Flu stew

The week started out well enough. I went to the Boardwalk Kennel Club dog shows with Sue, Mike, and Travis. They were taking a small string of dogs, including A.C., and I took the opportunity to do what I love best (who knew one can be born to scoop poop so contentedly, and find such satisfaction in catering to the needs a bunch of dogs?), and went along to help. I had no expectations for A.C., but he surprised all of us, going Winner's Dog and Best of Winners on Saturday, and Winner's Dog, Best of Winners, and Best of Opposite (over specials) on Sunday. On Sunday, he was handled both to the point, and to the BOW and BOS by Travis, who is 13. He's got a lot of talent, but he's also got a lot to learn. A.C. carried the kid, and clearly won the point that day on merit. I was thrilled, and surprised to find I was mostly thrilled for Travis, who whupped up on both his mom and his dad with that win. Photographs of A.C.'s wins have not yet arrived, so for now, revel in his haul.
More rosettes in one weekend than I'd previously accumulated in more than 30 years of showing dogs.



I got home in time for the Super Bowl, and the Giants' incredible late come back. It was one of the best played Super Bowl games I can remember, and it capped with a victory an already victorious weekend.

Travis had been coming down with something all weekend. I went to work on Monday feeling like maybe there was something brewing in the back of my throat. Then, Monday evening while I was doing my consultations, the chills hit. I've never experienced such chills. They would hit, and my body would arch and spasm. I felt like I was doing a bad imitation of Linda Blair in the Exorcist, and I've never been so glad not to have Phone-A-Vision.

By Tuesday morning, the misery had hit. I didn't get much done all week. It was muddy outside, and I was too weak to even wipe off the dogs when they came in. There are still muddy footprints all over the house. I spent the week on the couch. All I was able to do when I got up in the morning was get up, make the bed, throw on my bathrobe, grope my way to the kitchen, and shiver and shake and tremble through making the dogs' breakfast. I did try to go back to bed. But, when I went back to it, it was unmade and occupied.


Entreaties to get him to move were successful by inches. I was too weak to resist that face, and he knew it. He won. I took to the couch. That's ok. My couch and I are one.

The boo-boo on his nose is from the frozen, gnawed
leather cover on the soccer ball. Poor baby. I can't resist him.


I slept all day Tuesday and Wednesday. Mail stacked up in the mailbox. Newspapers piled up on the doorstep. The bird feeders went unfilled (the wild birds, not the parrots - I made my weak, feeble way up to the parrot garret on my butt, too unsteady to navigate the winder steps any other way. I'm sure they'll say that I neglected them. They can, after all, speak - but shut up! I fed you, didn't I? Patience and a fever do not travel together well.)

Then, on Thursday, I was able to sit up some, and realize that I was still alive, foggy and gummy, but the fever of 103 had broken, and there might still be hope for my recovery. I was mind-numbed and bored, but my head still crashed enough that I couldn't read, and I could not really see the lap top screen for more than a few minutes at a time. Fortunately, KnitPicks to the Rescue!! One of the packages that had accumulated on my front step was my KnitPicks order. So, I finished up the last cocoa Gloss sock in a hurry (for future reference, 2 pair easily from 150 grams.) Now I am sitting looking at some yummy, yummy balls of embryonic socks in Essential Tweed tones of Inca Gold and Russet. The gold is already on the needle. Long live Magic Loop.

And finally, I paid my bills this morning (ok, about a week late, but I consider this last week as the Lost Week From Hell,) and our awful, springlike, unseasonable, horrible, icky too warm-weather has passed, we've hit the freezing point, and when I went to call in the dogs, they came - first Hudson at a canter, and then Crow at a trot in these pictures - running through the first flurries we've had since December. I want my winter back (can you tell I'm fully convinced that this weather is responsible for my flu? And it must be my commitment to fight global warming that's got me suddenly, unexpectedly, and quite diligently praying for snow.)
Ok, that's it, a sort of stew of thoughts from the Lost Week, just in the interests of keeping this blog fed. Oh, and I highly recommend the flu as a great kick start for rapid weight loss. Five days - 7 lbs. That's ok. I needed that.