This morning, I was riding down the superhighway and stumbled upon this quote from George Lucas, regarding the next Indiana Jones movie they're going to start filming next year:
“'It’s going to be fantastic. It’s going to be the best one yet,' the 62-year-old filmmaker said during a break from preparing for his duties as grand marshal of Monday’s Rose Parade." (courtesy MSNBC)
Just one question...what strenuous "duties" must one have as Rose Parade grand marshal? Let me see...the qualifications for grand marshal - of any parade - are pretty much...
1) At least 3 people in the parade route know you,
2) Your hand works, and
3) You're breathing.
Oh, and your rear end has to be able to completely fit on the back seat of a convertible. THAT's the kicker. I hear that's why Rosie couldn't make it...
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
SICK
For the first time in several years, I was down virtually the entire last week with an absolutely horrible version of respiratory flu. Unbelievable. Horrible. And given to me by my children...
I did have enough common sense to keep a log of my activities. Hope you enjoy...
Tuesday - 8 AM: Take temperature, but it says 98.6 Sure. And the polls said we were up by 3-5 in the last week before the election, too...I'll believe it when I see it...
10 AM: Teaching final in class - nice, to think that I'm wrapping up my class by sharing my Christmas germs with everyone. Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! You won't wake up 'til then!
1 PM: Lone constituent meeting of the day, and we're driving in a car, no less. He's wearing a t-shirt and I am dressed like Nanook of the North. Think he notices? Feel fever climbing...what state are we in again?
3 PM: Finally make it home. I crawl into bed and turn on television and start flipping channels. Wow, those numbers going by on the bottom of CNBC really make your head hurt.
5 PM: Fever beginning to really escalate...feel like I may do some sudoku, but then I realize I don't remember the order of our numerical system anymore...
9 PM: Tammy wakes me up to feed me. Funny, I thought this wouldn't happen for another 40 years or so.
1 AM: Tammy finally goes to bed (on the couch...she's not stupid). Walgreens called to see if we can loan them some medicine.
9 AM: Tammy wakes me to see what my temperature is. It's 103.8. I wonder if digital thermometers have a joke chip that ever just spits out a sideways "8" to people to see what they'd do...
11:30 AM: I awake to see David's feeling better. He went to the doc yesterday (as did Jonathan), and even with a 100+ degree fever, he was yammering away. Freak of nature. David informs me he's feeling better in his normal, calm and subdued manner. "DADDY? DADDY? Hey Daddy - I don't feel as bad (cough, cough, sneeze, sniffle)." I actually catch a glance of the television, and I see Joel Osteen's on. Wow. One needs only to be delusional and filled with infection for him to make sense...yeah, Joel, positive thoughts ward off the "evil one." Right. What's the number for that book?
2 PM: Fever begins to break, because Lake Callicott's forming on the bed. Personal endorsement for Right Guard - it lasts even through the unholiest of sweathogs.
2:05PM: Dallas is on television again. Ah, the classics.
4PM: I'm on every medication right now except for Viagra, and I'll be honest, I wouldn't care right now if I was.
6 PM: Tammy leaves for Awana and our children's well-being is in my hands. Hope they don't weigh much, b/c I can't carry much right now. Too busy shivering.
8:30 PM: Tammy returns with a burger and soda from McDonalds' for me. I devour it, though I don't taste it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Let's hope Secretariat here helps me out.
1 AM: Tammy goes to sleep and asks if I'm going to work the next day. I mutter something in Armenian. I beg Jesus to take me home.
4:30 AM: I awake to my fever being...gone! GONE! I take my temperature, and the first time, it reads 106.5. While I know that's not true, for a moment, I wonder out loud, "Am I dead?" I take it again. 98.9! I figure even if I have to average the two, it's an improvement! I get out of bed, look at the sweat chalk outline of me in the bed, and really contemplate going to work NOW. Then I reconsider, put on a fresh set of skin & clothes, and retire for another hour.
7:30 AM: Should've gone to work 3 hours ago. It's not ugly again, but it ain't pretty. I've done something in my life to warrant this, I'm sure, though I don't remember a murder...
Thursday was, well, ok. Friday was a little better, Saturday was a stutter step, and finally Sunday - oh, blessed Sunday - no fever, no sore throat, no nothing. I'm reminded of the little illness we had a few years ago - the Norwalk virus (the stuff you get from cruise ships which we picked up in St. Louis one little weekend) - the doctor said, "You won't die, but you'll want to." Just unreal.
I did have enough common sense to keep a log of my activities. Hope you enjoy...
Tuesday - 8 AM: Take temperature, but it says 98.6 Sure. And the polls said we were up by 3-5 in the last week before the election, too...I'll believe it when I see it...
10 AM: Teaching final in class - nice, to think that I'm wrapping up my class by sharing my Christmas germs with everyone. Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! You won't wake up 'til then!
1 PM: Lone constituent meeting of the day, and we're driving in a car, no less. He's wearing a t-shirt and I am dressed like Nanook of the North. Think he notices? Feel fever climbing...what state are we in again?
3 PM: Finally make it home. I crawl into bed and turn on television and start flipping channels. Wow, those numbers going by on the bottom of CNBC really make your head hurt.
5 PM: Fever beginning to really escalate...feel like I may do some sudoku, but then I realize I don't remember the order of our numerical system anymore...
9 PM: Tammy wakes me up to feed me. Funny, I thought this wouldn't happen for another 40 years or so.
1 AM: Tammy finally goes to bed (on the couch...she's not stupid). Walgreens called to see if we can loan them some medicine.
9 AM: Tammy wakes me to see what my temperature is. It's 103.8. I wonder if digital thermometers have a joke chip that ever just spits out a sideways "8" to people to see what they'd do...
11:30 AM: I awake to see David's feeling better. He went to the doc yesterday (as did Jonathan), and even with a 100+ degree fever, he was yammering away. Freak of nature. David informs me he's feeling better in his normal, calm and subdued manner. "DADDY? DADDY? Hey Daddy - I don't feel as bad (cough, cough, sneeze, sniffle)." I actually catch a glance of the television, and I see Joel Osteen's on. Wow. One needs only to be delusional and filled with infection for him to make sense...yeah, Joel, positive thoughts ward off the "evil one." Right. What's the number for that book?
2 PM: Fever begins to break, because Lake Callicott's forming on the bed. Personal endorsement for Right Guard - it lasts even through the unholiest of sweathogs.
2:05PM: Dallas is on television again. Ah, the classics.
4PM: I'm on every medication right now except for Viagra, and I'll be honest, I wouldn't care right now if I was.
6 PM: Tammy leaves for Awana and our children's well-being is in my hands. Hope they don't weigh much, b/c I can't carry much right now. Too busy shivering.
8:30 PM: Tammy returns with a burger and soda from McDonalds' for me. I devour it, though I don't taste it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Let's hope Secretariat here helps me out.
1 AM: Tammy goes to sleep and asks if I'm going to work the next day. I mutter something in Armenian. I beg Jesus to take me home.
4:30 AM: I awake to my fever being...gone! GONE! I take my temperature, and the first time, it reads 106.5. While I know that's not true, for a moment, I wonder out loud, "Am I dead?" I take it again. 98.9! I figure even if I have to average the two, it's an improvement! I get out of bed, look at the sweat chalk outline of me in the bed, and really contemplate going to work NOW. Then I reconsider, put on a fresh set of skin & clothes, and retire for another hour.
7:30 AM: Should've gone to work 3 hours ago. It's not ugly again, but it ain't pretty. I've done something in my life to warrant this, I'm sure, though I don't remember a murder...
Thursday was, well, ok. Friday was a little better, Saturday was a stutter step, and finally Sunday - oh, blessed Sunday - no fever, no sore throat, no nothing. I'm reminded of the little illness we had a few years ago - the Norwalk virus (the stuff you get from cruise ships which we picked up in St. Louis one little weekend) - the doctor said, "You won't die, but you'll want to." Just unreal.
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