First up, must be noted that illustrations have nothing to do with the content of this post... they're just snaps of various interesting details around the farm.
So I went to an art opening the other day, nothing unusual there, but Bob declined to accompany me as he just wasn't in the mood so I flew solo. It was an opening at a new gallery venue near where I used to work, and ironically it was a house we had casually considered when we were house hunting. Additionally, I knew several of the artist showing, so what could possibly go wrong?
I arrived and they had suggested that parking was an issue so I was ushered into a field, proximate to the driveway. I was then informed I could walk up the road or hike it country-style through a field where a narrow roadway strip had been mowed. Being an adventurous gal, I voted to traverse the field... despite wearing rather chunky high platform shoes. That was fine until I either missed a side trail or the path simply terminated and I had to scramble over a stone wall. Good thing I'm nimble!
I then walked up the front path to (of course) the wrong door and simply entered into what looked like someone's private living room but fortunately spied one of the artist/friends so was able to smooth my abrupt appearance. That is until the woman with whom my friend was speaking rose up to greet me and I mistook her for an acquaintance I hadn't seen in a long time so I embraced her. Awkward as it turned out she was the daughter of the woman who's gallery I was visiting whom I had never met; I'm certain she now thinks I'm very odd.
But things were lovely after that. The show looked very nice: much very abstract and painterly stuff, hung in a pleasant space. The director of the gallery (who I fortunately didn't hug impetuously) was conversational and enthusiastic about her new venue. I then did what one does at such events- I circulated and met up with artists and friends that I hadn't seen in some time, COVID having interrupted the gallery scene quite a bit.
All this chatting and yakking and embracing and schmoosing had made me vaguely hungry and curious about the food offerings as many openings have nicely catered edibles. I surveyed the table and selected the tidbit that I thought had the least danger of sticking between my teeth, skipping what looked like delicious pastry-wrapped spinach puff in favor of what I took to be a meat ball. Looked chicken by the color and seeing as how I have developed an affinity for meatballs recently, I popped it into my mouth.
As I chewed and swallowed it dawned on me that I might have made a very bad mistake. Uh... just what was in that small, beige lump I had just ingested? My official food-taster (Bob) wasn't there to warn me off suspicious- and dangerous!- items that I shouldn't eat as I will remind you, I am allergic to shellfish (*1)
So I hunted down the gallery owner, who was deep in conversation with two potential clients and I hated to do it but I interrupted their art talk and said, "Excuse me... what exactly was in that meatball thing I just ate?" She started explaining what was in the OTHER innocent pastry lump (the one I should have eaten) and I said, "Not that one... the little beige balls". Of curse she replied, "Oh that's a crab cake". Not the words I wanted to hear! I started panicking, thinking, "Oh great! I'm going to have a severe reaction at an art opening and possibly die!" Fortunately, someone overheard this and said, "Give her Benadryl". So despite struggling to remove the tablets from the child-proof foil packaging (all the while getting more and more stressed), I was able to down the tablets and hie it out the door to the nearest pharmacy. (*2)
I opted for the road route back to my car all the while contemplating my imminent demise at the side of a country lane, my heart pounding and my blood no doubt circulating all that lovely crab-based poison throughout my system. I knew where the CVS was and got there quickly.
Fortunately, there was a really nice young pharmacist on duty who took excellent care of me. She had an Epi-pen at the ready and observed me for a half hour. My lips were feeling funny and I advised the pharmacist that my throat felt sort of tight, but my reaction was mild and she assured me that the Benadryl most definitely helped and I had done the right thing. I was still alive after 30 minutes so I was free to go, although now I was a bit dopey from the two Benadryl... but I was still among the living!!
I texted my artist friend to say I was okay and I related to Bob my above adventure. All I can say is: please label dishes at openings and parties... or better yet, avoid things that trigger common food allergies. A significant portion of the population suffers from some form of allergy. But better yet, my comment to me is: Don't put anything in your mouth that you're not sure of!! (*3)
(*1) The specific family of crustaceans, that is lobster/crab/shrimp. I can do clams and oysters and mussels as they are in a different family but don't really see the charm as they all strike me as being kinda jumpy and slippery.
(*2) I went to the pharmacy as they would be able to administer an Epi-pen which prevents anaphylaxis which can kill you... and rather quickly. I am allergic enough that Bob once ate a shrimp appetizer of some sort at a reception and when he kissed me, my lips swelled up and I felt itchy. Another time, a friend brought a plate of some sort of shrimp platter and later that night I washed the dishes. My throat felt tight and "funny" and it dawned on me that just touching the shrimpy residue dish was enough to trigger a reaction through my hands.
(*3) And what do I always say to Robin the Good, as she skulks about the yard, devouring squirrel poop and the assorted bird droppings? "What have you got in your mouth? Don't eat that!" Or the horse! Neko had hives a couple of weeks back and I had to give her a huge dose of Benadryl. Do they ever listen? Do I ever learn?!?!?
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