A portrait of my husband, once a week, every week, in 2013.

It’s been a hard last few days. Hooper’s had a runny nose for a few weeks now and came down with a 103+ temperature just a few days ago. Willy had a fever as well and spent two consecutive days in bed, for the most part. And, oh yeah, now Van’s sick. Somehow, amongst all the shit thrown my way, I’ve managed to get Van’s clothes sorted and organized; that kid grows faster than pubic hair after marriage. I’ve also managed to put together a special gathering at our house today. I cleaned the yard, brought stuff that had been stashed in the corner out to the garage, and cleaned the house. And, oh yeah, I ended last night with two glasses of wine; so it ain’t all snot rags and shitty diapers. I’m sure my fate as the only healthy one in the house is doomed and I’m trying hard to ignore the reality that I most likely will be joining them soon.

Best cure around, according to Willy: Grandpa’s cough syrup. AKA whiskey. Ain’t nothin’ like attacking the germs with the peaty burn of whiskey.