My stay in
Charlotte was largely uneventful. I generally relaxed and chilled and for the
first time in my life "waited" for my husband to come home from work
and dish out lavishly cooked meals.
My baby did not
appear to have developed a palate for American food. I stopped accompanying Worse Half for the
"included" breakfast at the hotel we were staying at.
The
West Coast Trip
We made a short
trip to the West Coast where I met my lovely uncles, aunts and cousins and
caught up with Rima, one of my closest friends from school.
Rima was driving
us to Universal Studios. Unfortunately just before that, Choto Kaku (my
youngest uncle) and Ann (his wife) took us for the All American Breakfast. The
quantities were beyond humungous. Worse Half ordered the standard eggs and realised
later that each portion was six eggs! wooo. Live life King size!
I tucked into
the pancake happily enough...but didn't feel too good soon after on the way to
Universal studios.
"Rima, I
croaked weakly, (the pancake egg mix just about restrained by a hair's breadth),
we have to stop, I can't wait for the washroom." Rima, of course petrified
that I was going to erupt into a smelly puke fountain all over her extremely
well maintained car, made some smart manoeuvres and pulled up in the brake down
lane of a fast moving freeway. I practically collapsed out of the car.
The Great All
American Breakfast found its resting place in a large all American ditch.
I looked up to see
Worse Half grinning at me with a love-struck moony expression, an expression seen so
rarely, that at first I put it down to him feeling queasy at my puke sight,
"It’s so cute to see you throw up. I missed all the puking in the first
few months because I wasn't around.”
"If you
don't stop watching me puke...," I started venomously.
Worse Half hastily
withdrew from my line of vision. Or rather my line of puke.
He would
certainly not think it cute if he was at the receiving end of the all American
pancakes!
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