I hope I dream of Boulder tonight

Wow, I’ve got a terrific headache. My son Christopher got back from the doctor a couple hours ago. The diagnosis? H1N1. The flu. He’s upstairs right now, slurping down rice and broth and a nice smoothie I whipped up for him, as I do for every one of my family members who get sick.

Except, right now, it seems like everyone is sick. And I can’t get that song, “Baby Can You Dig Your Man?” out of my head. It’s like something from a dream …

… or maybe a Stephen King novel. It’s a real Captain Trips.

The poor lamb arrived home yesterday evening after spending the weekend in Virginia attending the wedding of his father’s cousin. He and his sister, Claire, had a great time; it was their first formal event as adolescents/teens and were dressed suitably for the occasion, and drilled diligently on their manners prior to their departure. Since I wasn’t going to be around for helpful correction to their behavior, I had to trust God, baseball and the American Way to pull them through.

What I didn’t expect, through, was them to return with the flu.

It’s probably not the fault of the weekend trip, though; Christopher could have contracted this now hysteria-producing virus sometime in the previous week at school. And since he spent the entire weekend with his sister, either in the close quarters of a hotel room or on the eight-hour drive (each way), she’s likely to come down with it too.

We’ve got our own little quarantine going around here now; Christopher relegated to his end of the hall upstairs, Claire to hers, with some freedom of movement, and me trying to keep the little one segregated downstairs with the two of us.

Ooogh. I’m getting tired. These typing fingers are slowing down. The words before me are starting to swim a little on the screen. What? What’s that you say? No, I don’t know any old black ladies, but geez I seem to be imagining things. I swear I just heard the sweetest little old lady said something about Boulder. Huh. I’ve never been there. I bet it’s really pretty this time of year.

Baby, can you dig your man?

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