Deep in the Cezannes French Husband and his friend Thierry went on their annual wild mushroom picking adventure.
Last year they picked over 12 kilos of those cute little things, fat ones skinny ones and wiggly ones too.
Like I said our mouths were full when he called. I barely slept that night. Fear hung over my head and the next day I swore I would never eat wild mushrooms again.
Last night French Husband prepared pasta with the wild mushroom he collected. He was so proud. I enjoyed seeing him glow. The aroma of his wild mushroom sauce filled the kitchen enticing me. By I held my ground, even when Chelsea, and Sacha joined French Husband and licked their plates clean. "Mom, you sure missed out!" Rubbing it in my resolve they added, "If we all die tonight you will have wished you ate some!"
Last night somewhere around two in the morning I woke up with a pounding headache, I knew if I had ate the wild mushrooms I would be swearing it was their fault. But I hadn't.
The headache continued causing a violent storm within me… through the night and up until about an hour ago… I hung on to the side of the bed wishing headaches would leave me alone. I am on the other side of the the storm, barely, heavily medicated like a ride on mushrooms without the trip.
Hell I missed out and still got sick. Lucky me.
But I will not eat those mushrooms no matter how cute they are, or how loving French Husband prepares them.
P.S. I do not know why this underline thing is on and I am too pooped out to figure out why.
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