Really. Who has time for this?

Just this past week I was basking in how much better I'd been feeling. My food healthier. My energy  better. My skin clearer. My mood more, um, stable. Then WHAM! Sick. I haven't felt this bad in years. Thankfully it's a weekend. Poor Allan. I can hear him downstairs doing dishes and playing Geneva Conference to our three warring factions. Wait, make that four. The neighbor kid just showed up.

Because we had at least one person sick every day this week, nothing exciting happened. Except for hair cuts and really great naps. Oh, and AC started crawling. Exciting for her, anxiety-inducing for me.

Oh, AC...we just can't get over you. Thanks for consenting to be a Vandabailey. (Did she actually consent? I'm a little fuzzy on that doctrine....)

I wish I could luxuriate like this mid-day.

Gassy popped. RIP Gassy. You lived a full, rich life for a helium balloon (5 days).

I've been organizing monthly dinners out with some of my gal pals. Last night I was super tired and already losing my voice, but I knew I'd regret not going to get sushi (or in my case, a gigantic bowl of broth). I kept forgetting about my lack of voice, and would try and jump in with an enthusiastic comment and have it come out in a pathetic squeak. Sad. I had so much to say. Oh well. There's always next month.

AC just woke up, and there's one task Allan for sure can't attend to.