Friday, November 4, 2011

Resisting the Inevitable...

Like clockwork, when the weather changes over the last couple of years, I have gotten a bad (and I mean really bad) sinus cold that puts me down for several days, weeks, even getting into the months category.  Well, my students were sick this past week and I felt something coming on, so I tried a new tactic:  the vitamin and herb therapy promoted by the orthomolecular therapy guys, brought to my home via Airborne tablets.  So the report? Well, its been keeping the cold at bay at least, though my head is getting a little congested.  It will not keep us from our fun plans for the evening however!  What are they you ask?  Well, yesterday was 7 months for us, and we are getting in the habit of celebrating every month.  The Catholic church down the road has a massive fall festival going, complete with rides, junk food, and cheap stuffed toys to win.  Sounds like fun to me!  If we get good pics I will be sure to post.  

But here is what I'd like to leave you with today, one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems, that I dug out to read to my boys this week, in hopes of keeping them smiling as they fought off the sniffles.  I hope you enjoy it! 

by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

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