THE HOT DOG HURDLE

My Supper tonight: 2 hot dogs - I have avoided eating a hot dog - hot dogs was Bob's favorite food ... he was eating hot dogs almost exclusively when we started dating 45 years ago. In fact, I teased him about it because he never deviated from at least 2 hot dogs in any given day. Eventually, he started eating other foods when we married because I went on a kitchen strike until he agreed to sample a variety of meals; I was tired of hot dogs, mac 'n cheese, pizza, and San Francisco Rice-A-Roni.

That said, ever since December 14th, 2018, I have studiously avoided even walking past the hot dog isle in the stores - I just could not face it without crying. And, I have been cooking and eating meals Bob refused to eat ... and when I do bring home take-out meals, I always bought things Bob didn't like to eat: this is my way of dealing with things as they are. In order to heal and keep my sanity, I had to distance myself from things that would constantly chip away at the resealing of the cracks in my life. Hot dogs was one of those things I avoided. Even now, I tear up.

But, tonight, I decided "would be the night" I slayed the hog dog shakiness and got past the lump in the throat - I managed to bite-chew-swallow without choking, crying, or vomiting it back up.

Bob's pancreatitis was a rare type of inflammatory disorder – his attack was not food or alcohol related at all. It was stress related. Even so, even the thought of a hot dog; and a beer with Supper was making me nervous! Rationally, I KNEW that neither a hot dog, or a single beer could seriously hurt me; and it has no relation at all to my widowhood.

But it kinda freaked me out.

More things to hurdle in my move to rebuild my life …

It may sound irrational to some, but the grieving/healing process is irrational.

One step at a time.

One day at a time.

One scab at a time.