Potato A-Gogo!

So, anyway, where were we?
Oh yes. When last we met, six and a half hours ago, I was about to take a nap. And I did. I think. I’m not too sure. I don’t remember. I don’t think I dreamed, and I don’t remember waking up. This can only mean one thing: I was comatose. It was all very While You Were Sleeping. (When I came out of the coma, I was married to Sandra Bullock, so really, all’s well that ends well or something. Even though that’s not the way the movie itself plays out.) (“I can’t believe she SPOILED it for us!”)
But that doesn’t explain what I did this afternoon, does it? No. And there really isn’t any explanation, either. There is no “story”. Nothing with a moral or a meaning or a rhyme and/or reason. There isn’t even a whimsical anecdote. This is just an excuse to show you my lunch, really. Before I ate it, of course. (Because believe me, there was indeed the chance my lunch would show itself after the fact as well. But I wouldn’t photograph that. No. Remember: I only like pretty things!)
When I devised my plan this morning, it sounded like a very good idea. I’d go to Kiev, order pierogies and potato pancakes (small orders), and survive the double dose of fried food without so much as a whimper from my stomach. I’d burst with Eastern European pride, I would, and, once home again, settle comfortably in front of my computer to write all about it. Well, such was not to be. Eight hours later, I’m barely settled and certainly not comfortably, and bursting all right, but not with pride. And my stomach? Full-blown wailing!
Check out the artillery that did the damage!

And of course it didn’t stop there. Nyet. I had to sweeten the deal with a large prune hamentasch from Moishe’s. I didn’t take its photo, but it looked remarkably similar to the one I showed you earlier this year. Except less suggestive.
So that was that. Oh, and there were dogs too, today, who you can see in my Dogabout gallery!

Tomorrow:  Detox. Rehab. Tofu. Steamed.