The Husband is sick. This is slightly odd in that I am not. This is how it usually works:
- The Husband gets sick. He has the sniffles for one day, creates a mound of kleenex, is miserable. The next morning, he wakes up chipper as can be, not a sniffle or sore throat in sight.
- Two days later, I wake up with a sore throat. It’s killer. I suffer for two days.
- The sore throat moves to my nose. I struggle with sinus headaches, stuffiness and sniffles for a week.
- The sniffles move to my lungs. I cough for a month. I start taking sleeping pills just so I can get enough sleep to get better because Buckleys tastes awful and doesn’t work and Robitussin lasts half an hour and prevents sleep.
I know. It’s not fair. But this time, the Husband has been sick for three days. I think this might be a record.
He’s miserable. So I’m going to make his some chicken soup.
Gingerbread houses. On the weekend, one of the activities for the kids at our family Christmas was decorating simple gingerbread houses. They seemed to have so much fun and the creations they came up with were pretty impressive, all encrusted in candy.
This coming Monday, I’m doing a repeat of this activity with my youth group kids. Perhaps I’ll be able to come up with a pretty creation like the one Lindsay shared a couple weeks ago.
I am amazed how pretty these things can be.
I need some so I can stop running my huge bag of flour back and forth from pantry cupboard in the back entrance, to kitchen, and back. Turns out this wish has been, oddly, answered. Come back tomorrow to find out how!