"Lo, Children Are An Heritage of the LORD: and the Fruit of the Womb is His Reward" - Psalm 127:3

Monday, November 25, 2013

Sick

 It's been a rough weekend.  We were planning to go to Fort Collins on Friday, but I had too much to do at home, so I put off the trip, planning to leave Saturday.  Well Saturday ... this was my view all day.  I was extremely sick so I stayed in bed and watched/listened to the National Bible Bee online.  It was a great blessing to listen to it, but I felt awful.

One of the few moments I got out of bed was when it was just starting to become sunset.  The sun sets in the opposite direction, but the color behind the mountains was beautiful.

 Sunday I was feeling much better so we loaded up and drove to Fort Collins.  Unfortunately we hit the trifecta in a bad way - all three boys were sick yesterday.  The two year old was sick while we were driving, but thankfully the other two waited and made it to toilets.  This is sure one nasty bug.  Anyway, hopefully everybody is better now and I really hope we didn't manage to pass it on to anyone here.

So, to change to a more cheerful topic, I'm going to include one of my favorite poems - by Shel Silverstein.  It is called "Sick" and seems appropriate...

"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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