Ahhh, but the cuisine...the cuisine

These tales of the past week are coming in the same way I'm getting them back in my memory. Disjointed, out of time sequence, and disheveled. Learn to live with it, I do ;-)

Last Thursday Morning...waaaaay too early.

A woman walks in my hospital room and says loudly, "State Joo name pleze". Naturally, me feeling a little better and the eternal smart-ass anyways said, "Joo name."

I'm fairly certain she neither understood nor appreciated my humor, and she kind of chucked my tray onto that side table contraption that can spin in front of the patient and serve as a table for eating. I offed the cover, and much to my non surprise, I had no clue what 75% of the stuff on that tray was. After about 5 minutes of playing, "What's that smell?", I determined the following to be true:

The yellow/off white stuff in the small plastic bowl was the main chef's own invention. Hash browns and scrambled eggs mixed together to form a cylindrically shaped masterpiece of tasteful delight known as a $#!%&^. I decided to pass, because such a thing of beauty would only be destroyed if I ate it.

From that point forward, I knew my eyes, ears, color receptors, and instincts would have to be my guide. If the item was green when by all logic it should have been orange, I passed. If the smell was similar to the grease pit in the back alley of Sung Ho's Wok in Brooklyn, I passed. If the item seemed bloated in any form, I passed. And finally, anything that was once red meat or chicken that passed through a blender before it made it's appearance at my bedside? Pass.

America's hospital's. Yeeeesss, they're expensive, but think of the poundage you'll lose while there. They could market it as the latest craze:

"The Auto-diet", brought to you by your friends in the kitchen at your nearby Florida Hospital. All you have to do to enroll is state joo name.