Monday, November 10, 2003


I have returned from our nation's capitol to our nation's real capitol. And damn, it was cold.

As always, it was nice spending time with the boyfriend. This weekend, though, had a special twist:

This was the weekend I almost died.

Don't get me wrong: I don't intend to live forever. In fact, I'd wager that I long ago passed the half-way mark on this journey. But I wasn't planning on dying over dinner on a cold Saturday night, either.

Here's what happened. After a few hours of Happy Hour at JR's, Bradykins and I decided to grab dinner. Fortunately, just down the street is Annie's, home of an outstanding... prime rib dinner. [cue ominous music]

One bite -- one bite -- into my prime rib and I knew I had a problem, as a throat-sized piece of meat wedged in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, then tried to cough it up, but the meat was going nowhere. And there was no breathing going on, either. And no noise... no grunts or other signs of distress.

I think it was about then when I realized I wasn't going to get out of the predicament without help. I looked over to Brady and tried to pantomime my distress, but he was too busy buffing his nails as shocked as I was, and, well... neither of us wanted to make a big scene over it. I thought maybe some water would help, but the water just sat in my sealed throat, until I managed to spit some of it back up... which fortunately alerted the diner next to me of my dilemma. He, in turn, solved the problem the old fashion way: with a couple of sharp smacks on my back.

Once I could breathe again, I no longer wanted prime rib. From now on, I think I'll stick with soup.

Scary stuff. Could have been scarier:

And how was your weekend?