Tuesday, August 28, 2007

At Death's Door

Sergio is still sick and the only words he finds necessary to speak through his sore throat are, "I think I'm dyin'. Lady, I'm dying, seriously." To be fair, he is actually sick enough that I drove him halfway to school today before turning around and driving him home, plopped him on the couch and then left to get a haircut so he couldn't continue to tell me how sick he is.

No, I am not really that hardhearted. I just needed a haircut as it was getting particularly mushroomy.


We went to a barbecue over the weekend. That makes three vegetarian couples we owe return dinners to now. All of our best meals are meat related. Any ideas? Sergio played croquet, Eliot sniffed a cats butt for the first time and got a claw in the face, and I dominated a conversation. Good times were had by all.

We also went on a long bike ride, if anyone was curious about the results of the poll. As it turns out it is far quicker to get to the bookstore by bike on back roads than it is in the car on the highway. Also, I cannot bike up the final hill to the house. All of Sergio's sick whining still doesn't compare to my hill-climbing whining. Not even close.

Sergio started class yesterday but had to miss today because of phlegm. Not a great start.

I start hanging out in a 7th grade classroom next week. Eventually I will teach said class full-time. I choose not to think about that right now.

It was 39 degrees in parts of Eastern Oregon yesterday morning. I hope that weather miraculously makes it to Arkansas to give you guys a break. I hear it has been terrible.

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