Last weekend we were drinking hot cocoa, and building snowmen, and crying over the inescapable truth that just-built snowmen will eventually melt (see Penny pic below). We were even dancing and listening to Christmas music. (Early. Yes. It couldn’t be helped. We’d agreed we’d hold off ‘til Thanksgiving . . . unless it snowed. And snow it did.)
This week, sickness whirled through our home like a tornado. And, just like a tornado, it touched down here and there – seemingly at random – wreaking havoc with one and leaving another wholly unscathed. For those who were hit, there was only the tiniest window of warning before the damage was done. (And by damage I mean . . . the kind of damage that would cause me to call Mike sobbing that our washing machine wasn’t working right -- and that life could not presently be borne without a working washing machine.)
It’s a good thing it wasn’t the plague. In four short days our family of eight would have been whittled down to three.
But! As quickly as it came, it blew on out. This weekend we were back to usual weekend activities. And today we even made a mini Thanksgiving meal of sorts. We’ll be at my parents’ on Thursday, but we’ve had a turkey sitting lonely and unappreciated in our freezer for some time, so Mike cooked that up, and we invited Mike’s parents to come join us.