First there was the sesquicentennial of the farm, celebrating Bill's family's 150 years in this place. The house was full of family for a week, and on the big day we had 117 guests, music, food, drink and general gaiety. Joy abounded, although man-colds kept husbands and the toddler a little down, which should have been a warning.
After the last houseguest left, I had a day and a half until the reunion of my cousins, on the Metolius River - one of the prettiest spots in Oregon. Joy again abounded, long walks and long talks and the first signs that trouble wasn't content to just lurk.
I only was supposed to have four days at home before leaving for Chicago to babysit darling grandson. But as my throat became searingly painful and I made foghorn sounds when I inhaled, I decided I wasn't invincible, after all, and dragged my sad ass home from the reunion a day early and took to my bed.
After a loading dose of antibiotics I can face life again, and my NP promises I'll be good to fly. I enjoyed sleep uninterrupted by bouts of strangling coughs, and greeted the dew-bespangled morn chastened, but grateful to have so many lovely people in my life.
Thank you all; this is a great summer!
