Strep 'n' Stuff

This weekend I was knocked down and out by strep throat. Started feeling a little poorly Friday evening. Friday night- never slept more than 20 minutes (ok, maybe 30) at a time. No coughing- just a really really really really sore throat. Went to a meeting early Saturday morning and did an errand and then said to myself: Nope. Can't talk yourself out of this one. It's time to succumb. But before you succumb completely, go to the doctor.
They did a throat culture and I was 'VERY POSITIVE' for strep. Is it possible to be only 'slightly positive'? Got my penicillin and went home to succumb. I cannot even explain the difference in how I feel today vs. Saturday and Sunday. Sir Alexander Fleming I thank you from the bottom of my throat.

I was in charge of Teacher and Staff Appreciation at my daughters' school yesterday. It went well. I am glad it is over because it has been looming up there in my brain for quite a while. I really do hope they feel appreciated because I know what they do is very hard work. We served them Panera's sandwiches and salads and these yummy cookies from Eileen's. I was really nervous because there is such a fine line between having enough food and staying within your budget. We also gave them gift bags filled with handy items donated by parents: post-its, pens, markers, stationery, candy, gum, microwave popcorn, index cards, and most popular (based on exclamations), colorful sharpies.

This morning the girls and I were snuggling in bed and J said: Mommy, what if all the toilets were broken at school, and everyone had to go to the bathroom at the same time? They could go to the 'Pottytorium'!

So, speaking of weird... I had this strange dream last week where I was living in a different era, Like maybe the 1940s and I worked at a hotel that had wooden floors and was 3 stories tall and had balconies around a fancy lobby. I worked on the 2nd floor in the kitchen and dining room coordinating things for guests. I witnessed one of the workers fighting with someone. Then he shot and killed him. The person fell over the balcony railing to the lobby below. He didn't know I saw it happen. When the police came he explained that it had been self-defense. After a very thorough search of the hotel, the weapon couldn't be found so they couldn't charge him. Later that day I was talking to the shooter and the light was coming in these high windows into the lobby and over the guy's shoulder I could see the silhouette of the gun in one of the chandeliers. Then I woke up! Oh, yeah, and in the dream, all the people were African-American, including me.

And Last: in my previous post I referred to a mystery excavation. Jon and Pete, I appreciate your consideration of these clues and what they might mean. A Hermit and Graffiti taggers are much more interesting and exciting than what it really was. It was actually a pile of stuff left on the lounge chair in my office after Youth Sunday. Some of it is still there.