Living is, well, relative.

Yes, I'm alive.

Spending upwards of 16 hours a day in bed alive. Leaving work mid-day to take a nap alive. Thanking-God-Every-Day-Antibiotics-Exist Alive.

My biggest fear out of this whole hot mess of infection was that I'd end up with pneumonia. I am still hacking disgusting, unspeakable things. When I talk too much or attempt to laugh, I end up with a coughing fit that sounds like the end stages of emphysema. People back away from me when I start that. I can't say I blame them.

On the plus side, I actually went out for dinner last night. I know this seems like something I do often (and it is) but since I arrived back from DC I've been spending every possible hour in bed. So being out in public was a Very Big Deal to me.

I go to my favorite Italian place -- Mona Lisa's. It isn't much, a strip-mall Italian restaurant next to an Office Depot and a Thai place. Looks average from the outside.

The inside ... still pretty average, except for the blessing (!) from Pope Benedict for the restaurant. Yep, old school Catholic Italians. These are my people -- if I were Italian or Catholic, that is.

They make a dish there that makes my heart sing with joy and happiness. It is called the Chicken Mona Lisa. Boneless skinless chicken breasts covered with buffalo mozzarella, spinach, mushrooms, sundried tomatoes and a lemon-butter white wine sauce. Served with some steamed veggies (last night was broccoli, zucchini and yellow squash) and a bowl of pasta on the side. This makes for two very good meals, as I always take half home. I have tried to finish it all once and ended up with a bellyache. A damn fine bellyache, but a lesson learned nonetheless.

Last night, though, I wanted dessert. I wanted their tiramisu. I love tiramisu. Good tiramisu is hard to find, much like good biscuits and gravy, good Italian beef sandwiches and good pizza. There has to be a certain kind of magic used and most places don't have it.

Turns out they were out of it. They make it themselves (of course) and they were out. I have been chasing this elusive tiramisu since I got here.

The owner, Joe, had stopped by my table earlier. Yes, I've become a regular at this place, I can't help but enjoy each and every time I come there. We talked for a few minutes, I told him I loved his food and that I enjoyed coming in.

So ... Joe found me some tiramisu. I have no idea where it came from, only that "it wasn't theirs" but he hoped I'd enjoy it.

and I did.

And if theirs is as good or better than that one, I'm gonna marry into that family. Damn skippy, that was good tiramisu.