I am sitting here sipping some black cherry raspberry something-or-other tea with some honey and lemon juice mixed in, listening to The Decemberists, and looking at this truly awesome dogblog. Really, it almost makes up for being sick. ….Almost.

Why is it that tea always smells at least slightly better than it tastes? This is a universal constant, insofar as I can tell.

Gracie has this thing where she sprawls all over the bottom wheels of my spinny computer chair, and I can’t get up without running her ears over. Why is that? Surely she knows this will only end in tears.

Hmm. I definitely have a fever. Should I do something about it? No. Although, sleep might not be a bad thing. Don’t you just hate it when you’re tired, but you’re cold-tired, meaning you can’t actually sleep because your head is clogged with mucus? I hate that. However, it’s great for reading!

I had lots of great things to talk about, I know I did.

Oh, one of them was about Beowulf. We go on walks very often, as you know if you know me at all, and he has recently taken to following us. The only difficulty is that his legs are much much shorter than everyone else’s, including Gracie’s. So he bounds ahead valiantly for a while, then bounds less exuberantly, then trots, then finally plods along. Then he starts crying, extremely pitifully, until someone carries him the rest of the way home. It’s quite adorable. When Ed was very small one of his first words was “Up!” because of the exact same reason! And thus cats are human, QED.

Not really.

My first word wasn’t Mama or Dada either, it was “eye”. Rickers aren’t normal, really. I was 13 months old, and Mom was reading an alphabet book, and she got to the letter I, and I pointed to my eye and said “eye!”. I don’t actually recall this, but Mom likes to tell the story. I love alphabet stories. When Ed was just born (so I wasn’t quite 2 and a half), Mom had had a very bad morning and was a bit frazzled. I walked in with Pat the Bunny, one of my favorite books (this I do remember! My beloved Pat the Bunny). I sat down and spelled out “P-A-T. T-H-E. B-U-N-N-Y,” with my finger on the cover. As Mom tells it, she was so flabbergasted she didn’t believe I did it and asked, “What did you say??” I dearly loved my little books. I remember every night putting them on their little shelf very carefully with the rest of my toys. Sigh…good times. I’m in a reminiscing mood because Mom just got out a lot of stuff from the cedar chest the other day. It’s so strange because I remember wearing those tiny clothes but I don’t remember them being tiny. I love being a kid.

*sips her tea and sniffles*