My internet time is so limited right now, I sometimes can’t even read my email for days at a time. Hotels want my first born to get online. We’ve moved from Cocoa Beach into Orlando. We ended up finding an excellent Indian restaurant in Cocoa Beach and I had my first decent hot meal since we got here. I found a “health food store” (that’s what they still call them here in the South) and ate ready-to-eat food from there for a few days. I noticed it was the same store someone recommended in the comments. I finally was able to find something edible.

I’ve been a vegetarian for so long now that should my food become contaminated with meat, I get severe, vicious, gastrointestinal distress. Within an hour I get wicked stomach cramps that are so bad they hurt in my back and I literally am doubled over. Then I get nausea so bad, I usually spend several hours with my head hanging over a garbage can, barf bucket or toilet, only to be assaulted shortly after by it making a speedy exit out the other end. That’s right, folks. It’s no longer a choice, it’s a necessity. I only get poisoned when we eat out. And there was a point when we first moved to Washington that I just couldn’t face eating out anymore because I become violently ill everytime we did. We’ve finally found restaurants that don’t poison me, but eating at new restaurants scares me. Eating in Orlando terrifies me.

We met our roommate from college, Tony, for dinner one night. For those of you that don’t know, Steve and I were friends, dating other people then later engaged to other people when we met in 1989. It was a year and a half later when I was looking for a place to live and Steve and Tony were looking for a roommate. It was January when I agreed to move in with them in June. By March, Steve and I had finally started dating which led to a huge complication in everyone’s living arrangements. I laid awake many nights wondering what I was going to do.

On some level, I knew Steve was the one. I even remember the day I realized it. We were invited to a BBQ at the home of his boss, Frank. Frank had a three year old boy. When we walked in the door, Frank’s son shrieked and ran from the back of the house straight at Steve and Steve scooped him up and threw him in the air while the both of them laughed. It was at that exact moment that I knew. I knew he was the one. So this decision to continue with the plans for me to move in might jeopardize this relationship. In the end, Steve and I decided to go ahead with me moving in and if at any point things got weird, I would move back out. I had my own bedroom, so we figured I would have my own space to retreat to if we needed a break. It wasn’t the ideal way to start off a relationship, but on the other hand, we knew each other pretty well by then anyway.

In fact, the three of us; Tony, Steve and I knew each other to the soul. We didn’t just live together, we spent most of our free time together because we all enjoyed each other’s company. Besides Steve, Tony probably knows me better than anyone. And when we get together when travel plans allow, it’s like no time has passed, even though we live so far apart, we have families and our lives are radically different from the days where we played pool all night in the living room and went fishing on the weekends. And the dynamic of our friendship never really changed either. It was always two against one in big arguments that often had us laughing until we cried. One time Steve told me that I had to rub lotion in until it was gone so that it would “go in deeper” and Tony and I mercilessly ridiculed Steve until he was so mad at us he stopped talking to us. In case you were wondering, I brought that argument up again when we saw Tony and Steve got mad all over again. ;D I had to inform Tony’s wife that she better stick up for herself in this crowd. ;)

We ended up going to Fuddrucker’s for dinner with Tony. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get a hamburger bun with just cheese and portabella mushroom in between the bread. Sigh. By the time we got home, I realized that my mushrooms and bun must have been cooked on the grill with all the burgers because I was SICK. OMFG. As I was hanging my head over the trash can, Steve told me to just go in the bathroom and get the diarrhea over with. My stomach hurt for three days. Steve saw me holding my stomach the next day and I said “My Fuddrucker’s still hurts.” Sigh.

Last night I got Fuddruckered again and had to walk around Disneyworld bent over clutching my stomach. I swear I don’t know if I’m going to survive this trip. This time it was an Indian restuarant that I’m just shocked I got meat poisoned at. I thought I was safe at an Indian restaurant. I tightened my belt another notch today. Beware of the Fuddruckering. ;)