I woke up this morning to the truly wonderful aroma of momma’s home made chicken soup. Okay I slept really really late today. Having endured a minor procedure on Monday, my internal clock, and my body, are all messed up. So I thought… mmm… soup. And then I thought… surely hubby isn’t in there cooking?!? Awww. He’s not really a gourmet, so I thought maybe he bought something pre-made-up at the market and just warmed it up. But still! Sweet!

The closer to the kitchen I stumbled, the hungrier I got. I tell ya, this soup was really starting to make my mouth water! Anyway, in the tradition of action movies, I’ll cut to the chase. I shuffle to the kitchen, slavering, only to find that indeed, he had been preparing a meal… for the cats. What I was smelling was Friskey’s Chunks O’ Chicken.

For just a moment I really really missed the hospital drugs. Good stuff that.

So this minor procedure involved a couple of stitches in the mid-section. And suddenly, I wake up in the middle of the night, in absolute agony from just trying to roll over, and I think… dammit… if I was Bruce Willis, I would have been able to take a bullet in the gut and get back up and have a fistfight with someone… and win.

Granted that I couldn’t win a fistfight against Bruce Willis (Or Segal, or Stallone, or Jolie or whoever is popular for pretending to kill people these days) on the best of days, but seriously. Life just isn’t like an action movie. If someone looked at me funny in a dark alley I’d be out of commission for a couple hours, but taking a bullet (or a couple of sound kicks even) would not leave me racing through the streets of Bejing after the notorious drug smuggler who killed my family and burned down my grandma’s house. (Sorry, Gran)

Also, I find myself completely out of one-liners right now. Dammit where is Segal when you need him!

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