He came down with this malady Friday while I was mid-hosting duties for the evening, and from then, I only checked in via regular text since I had one of those weekends that included everything from a baby shower an entire county away, to back-to-back events of what my acquaintance Anita's husband calls "drinking for charity." (Those are the only times I ever see him, and swear-to-God, at the very next one, I am going to remember his name.) Every wardrobe change was meticulously laid out and coordinated in advance; multiple Emergency Backup Straights and Recyclables had to be deployed; and I only wish I'd had that Faerie Princess Fashion Phone Booth where I could make a quick-change on every corner. Today included an unscheduled alumni Brunch, and next up is an afternoon of Sam Shepard followed by the SuperBowl (where I have not even registered and entered a chili in this year's competition).
And that is no excuse. If I get sick, he is at my side, usually within minutes. And since he is a doctor in his spare time, he is far more useful than I am in any health crisis, and it is only because he's a doctor that he's allowed anywhere near me, because I banish everyone from the sickbed, requiring complete silence and isolation (PediaLyte, GingerAle, and pharmaceuticals are left at the back step). He is generally the same way, so it's all the more significant that his care is pretty well up to me and my husband-in-law.
By this morning, he was ready to sit up and take some broth, so I asked if anything sounded appetizing -- prepared to even go out and kill a lobster if that's what it took.
To my horror, he wants .... chicken and dumplings --- one of only a couple things I know for a fact, I can not make. I guess it's because they involve dough, and anything remotely in the hemisphere of baking is disastrous for me. I love them more than anything, and request them on my birthday, specifically because I can't make them. There are two warring clans in my family dedicated entirely to dumplings: my Grandmother (God Rest Her Soul) and my Aunt Helen's mother (God Rest Hers as Well). Church Homecomings became a hotly contested dark and bloody ground according to which side was chosen. It is only because they have both gone on to a Better Place that I can now admit, Man, I loved them both. Aunt Helen knows how to make the Nell Dumplings and the Lucy Dumplings, but as far as I know, she is the only one.
I am beside myself that I can't make them. I put out the facebook call for recipes, and I leave his nutritional fate and recovery in Joe's very capable hands. (Joe.... who already came home with the boxed set of thirtysomething for Valentine's Day! The 80s marathon menu is already in the planning stages.)
Meanwhile, I am standing by with a spare kidney just burning a hole in my pocket should Nick need it, because I might never otherwise be forgiven for this.
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