Everyone is this germ-infested house has spent one rotten day fighting the Christmas Flu, except for my father, the remnant. I feel so badly.
I am not a puker. The only times I have thrown up in the past decade are when I got a concussion and while I was in labour. I have the stomach of a horse.
Butter chicken soars
From my mouth and nose and gut.
Note to self:Â this blows.
Avelyn boarded the Barf Train on Saturday night and went for a terrible ride down a very stinky, soggy rail for the next 24 hours.
Avelyn has always been more than a little strong-willed. If she isn’t happy, you know about it. Lately she’s pulled out a new trick: The Underbite.
Where she got this from, I have no idea.
As I type, the aroma of freshly baked Pecan Tassies is swirling in the air. Oh, goodness. They are delicious morsels of delight.