the opposite of suffering

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To stop this pity party in it’s tracks, let me tell you what I have actually done this weekend, because I got to say that aside from the obvious unpleasantries — a smattering of bruises on my every appendage, the inability to put my hair in a ponytail or even put socks on without help, embarrassment of having my husband cut up my food for me in a restaurant and no wine (!) because it mixes disastrously with Advil in me — it’s been pretty sweet.

Saturday started with one of the great one-hand-able foods of New York: the Murray’s whole wheat everything bagel. Murray’s is one of but six places left in the city that still make bagels the old-school way: by hand, with malt and always boiled. Just don’t ask them to toast them, because they’re almost always right out of the oven. I’ve got a near-constant hankering for their low-fat scallion cream cheese, but I’ve, you know, heard from other people that their strawberry cream cheese? Tastes like danish and is mildly addictive.

Next up was the undaunted Sarah Brown’s Cringe TV pilot shooting. I know this probably wasn’t the best time to do something crowded and public as there is just no way to casually tell people that you are wearing a sling because you fell down the stairs last night – “Oops!” – but it was so nice to be out. We laughed for hours (“We all lie, Deb.”), and did I mention we hung out with a fish, a dooce and a girl who says she pretty much hates everything but I don’t believe her? And that they all pretended to know who I was? I’m a sucker for flattery.

And today, we hit the annual Chocolate Show which was so good it almost made up for being aggravatingly crowded with people who do not consider slinged shoulders things worth avoiding bumping into. I have now consumed about a half-ounce of quality chocolate for almost every bruise on my body, and as soon as I can match that in bourbon, I have no doubt the world will finish righting itself.

Tonight, Alex makes dinner – it’s an old, odd favorite that I hope will become one of yours, too. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, by which time, I hope to be up to 22 words per minute.

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