We are ending this year on a BANG with illnesses all around. Both yesterday and the day before Andy went to bed with the kids. At 7pm. And last night my mum was gone, so I was all by my onesie.
Inadvertently and not at all connected, I found that Netflix has a fireplace video feed. But it’s not just one fireplace “show”. It’s “Fireplace For Your Home Birchwood Edition.”
Just let that sink in. Birchwood edition. *what’s the difference?*
There is also the ‘classic’ which I can only assume is non-birch, and the other one which has music as well.
Peeps, I’ve got choices. I only wish I had found this before Christmas. Maybe tomorrow i’ll be risque and use the one with music.
You see, I have grand plans. And if they fall through, then I can record myself singing all the Draco and the Malfoys that I could ever want. Then I’ll put them in a file for my kids to deal with when I die. Wouldn’t that be a surprise.
“Why is mom singing this wretched strange music? I mean, I know she liked the Harry Potter books, but she sounds like a cat drowning. Whatever that sounds like.”
Speaking of Potter, my grand plan for the year is to reread the whole series. I’m quite thrilled with the idea, as it’s been years since I’ve read the whole thing through. But oh – that last book…it kills me reading it toward the end. I love Lord of the Rings (books!) but they have nothing on the emotion this last book puts me through, in all its redeeming denouement.
We have almost finished up the last of our turkey from Christmas. I’m both thrilled and sad. Thrilled because most years we are home I get sick of it or don’t have the energy to make delicious turkey meals. However, this year I did have energy, so we enjoyed turkey sandwiches, turkey pot pie, and turkey soup (sooooo good!). I’m sad cause I love me a good meal, and this turkey’s done us well.
We have absolutely no plans for New Year’s celebrations outside of the home. It reflects an unfortunate social state (as I think most parents of young children also can attest to), but I’m content ’cause then I can just pajama my way through the night. Also, the family is sick and unlikely to get better by Saturday night, so it’s best we only infect ourselves.
We are planning to eat appies all late afternoon through the kids’ “midnight” (thank you king Julien on Netflix for this wonderful party of a deception) and up to midnight, if we can make it that long. Which I doubt. But if we’re feeling up to it, we’ll have a rowdy game of StarCraft as per our norm. Though without Fr. Darryl this year, as he’s apparently got himself a social calendar this New Year’s with a friend who’s back from Rome for a bit.
One day Andy and I might be social again. Or at least I will be. I think Andy would forever like to hide in a room with a computer.
Strange question: Can illness make someone sleep talk? I mentioned that Andy’s been sick like the kids, but last night, when he had a fever, he could not stop sleep talking which is totally and completely not his norm. And this guy’s suffered from insomnia, so he knows lack of sleep and it’s never been and issue of sleep talking because of lack of sleep. But really. I had to excuse myself for the evening and play Goldilocks between a different bed and a couch before I could find peace. And I won’t go into details about the children’s inability to remain asleep. The poor sickies. And tired mama.
Seriously, though, can illness induce sleep talking? I’m so perplexed.