lunch

It might sound a little cheesy and dated, but I really miss reading blogs. Blogs that just show what's happening in someone's life with either an uplifting vibe, comical perspective, artistic touch, or whatever it may be. I miss reading funny stories that happen to other people or feeling sympathy for difficult times or just reading about a good weekend. I used to have dozens of friends, family, and strangers that wrote and shared just like this, and not because they were being sponsored or trying to sell anything.

I love instagram and use it all the time, but it's hard to share a story without going a little overboard with the posting. And, while perusing Pinterest earlier, an inspirational quote came on my feed, as they do, which said "write the book you want to read." Well, it's for sure not a book, but I want to read REAL. Let's start with lunch today.

Harry and I both work downtown cue whichever song you prefer about "downtown" and meet up for lunch pretty much every day. Harry bikes from his firm over to my office building, which makes us sound fancy. There are many options for eating within the "skyway." For non-Minneapolis people, these are enclosed bridges that connect the buildings in the city so that when it's -20 degrees outside you don't die while walking from one building to the next. They are best pictured in the film Mighty Ducks, when the team is training with roller blades in the city. See what I'm talking about here.

Anyway, the point is we eat lunch together, and it's tasty. However, today as I'm about to get in the elevator to go back to work, Harry gets a nosebleed. Now, Harry gets a lot of nosebleeds, thanks to a broken nose from either his hockey days or a stupid trick he tried to do on his mission. I'm not sure which. So I'm not alarmed and give him my napkin, thinking it'll just be a few drops. I take the trash while Harry sits down and proceeds to freaking bleed. out.

I come back with another five napkins, and within 30 seconds each one has been stuffed up the nose and soaked through. I run to get another 8 napkins, same story. I sit with Harry, watching blood drip onto the tile floor in front of him and wonder if I'm about to watch my husband die. Another 15 napkins. Blood all down his front. Leaking between his fingers. As I start making plans to call the ambulance, one giant blood clot gag gag gag...i really did gag right there in my shiny office building spills out of his nose and the bleeding immediately stops. i'm gagging in real life now...gag.

Harry looks up from his mountain of bloody napkins which has more elevation than any geological formation in Minnesota and halfheartedly smiles, even though blood had started coming from his mouth as well. He looked like he had turned to cannibalism for lunch.

He lived. I lived. Needless to say I did not kiss him goodbye.

Image from our less bloody experience at the Twins MLB game.


peace and quinoa
trying really hard to make that in a way that i like

rrww