...instead of on my tourney bed, huddled next to James to suck the heat off of him. ~sigh~. On the other hand, I'm not totally trashed and aching all over. And my friend Caia, who is a respiratory therapist, called me before they left for the event, to see how I was and give advice if I needed it. Made a depressing afternoon a bit brighter. And I think I am getting better, slowly- I'm not coughing nearly so much, and I'm getting more sleep, which is a good thing. Caia said I'll really be making progress when I don't need the rescue inhaler.
Wanda had the local NPR affiliate play as we drove downto Oregon City to pick up Zippy the Wonder Volvo from the mechanic. By the time we got there I was ready to slit my wrists- they were doing a retrospective on all of the Oregon soldiers who's died in this damn war. My son turns 21 on the 2nd, and I cannot imagine losing him there. (Of course, I can hardly believe that he's 21! Wasn't he just that little boy with the blond curls and little pink toes?)
Tomorrow I'm taking Wanda out for breakfast (she's had a really bad week) and maybe to troll our favorite Goodwills. I think a fun new hat would make me feel better. :-)