You Scream! I Scream!

I should preface this story by saying that I have spent at least 10 years looking for the perfect white shirt. I have only been successful twice. Once was about three years ago in New York. The second was a couple of weeks ago in Chicago. What makes the perfect white shirt, you ask? It has to be fitted but loose. It needs to have some sort of tone-on-tone stripe or slight pattern. It needs to not require an undershirt. It needs to have French cuffs. It needs to not have a button-down collar (although, I don't think that ever happens with French-cuffed shirts). As you can see, I am very specific yet vague in my desires.

A couple of months ago, I even scored one of these so-called perfect shirts for Shlomo. It was very difficult for me. I was currently without the perfect shirt and they did not have my size. I was a big person about it. I was happy for him to have it. Really, I was. Seriously, I was. Okay, I was a teensy bit envious. Okay, I was seething with jealousy.

Well, it remains to be seen if he still has said shirt. Tonight after dinner, we went to a special little creamery we like to call Baskin Robbins. It had been a rough day and I needed a little chocolate fudge on a sugar cone. I like to think of it as my cone of happiness. Shlomo got his semi-usual jamoca almond fudge.

We adjourned to the out of doors to enjoy our happiness in a cone. About two minutes passed. I was telling a story that could only be described as riveting. I looked over. Shlomo's scoop rolled off his cone and down his oh-so-perfect shirt. Miraculously, he caught the scoop in his hand. Well, he really kind of trapped it with his hand and cuff and stomach. He placed it on his cone and continued eating. We both laughed hysterically.

Riveting story continued for another two minutes or so. Shlomo had repeat performance of his act. This time, he did not catch it. However, he did manage to deflect it onto my jeans. They are my fat jeans that I usually only wear on airplanes, but not so funny. He thought so. I did not.

Perfect ending to my perfect day. I neglected telling this part earlier so as not to distract from the charm of my story. However, the results of Fargo's third biopsy came back today. I had dismissed the third biopsy because two had been benign. However, this one showed a malignancy. We do not have a prognosis yet. But, I know how it is going to end. I don't know when it is going to end. But, I now know how. It's sad. That's right...I am ending on a total down note.