I just realized that I pushed the publish button without writing anything.  That is what coughing, hacking, constant NyQuil and Mucinex ingesting will do to you.  I am tired of hot tea.  I'm tired of hot tea with honey.  I'm tired of hot tea, honey and rum.  I'm tired of toilet tissue (only because Beerhound is too cheap to buy tissues).  I'm tired of feeling like a glazed donut and hawking up fluid from my lungs that looks like the same goop coming out of Argo's nose after she's gone on a good run.

I'm especially tired of Beerhound using my illness as an excuse to take a nap.  The "I'm going to come and keep you company and take a nap with you" is getting old.  First, he doesn't need a nap.  He's not four.  Second, he snores and takes all my blankie.  Third, he casually asks me if I'm ever going to stop coughing so he can get some rest.  Fourth, nothing in the house is getting done.  He insists the status quo of our horribly messy house never changes because I'm not able to lead the charge.

I say, "Go forth big boy, blow the bugle, jump on the horse and tackle those wild savages.

(speaking only of dust bunnies, wads of tissue Rue has discovered and shredded, and dirty dishes.  I would never say that about Native Americans.  I'm part Native American.  There is absolutely nothing wild about me unless I drink Vodka and Absinthe.   As far as being a savage, well, I eat with the right fork, fold my napkin, eat with my mouth closed and never entertain the thought of murder and mayhem unless Beerhound is keeping me awake with his snoring and gaseous expulsions or some stupid-ass conservative makes a remark like "our founding fathers built this nation on the foundation of the bible"

**Ben Franklin liked to entertain people, while he was an emissary to France, in the nude not to mention all the women he noodled.  Thomas Jefferson physically removed most references to God and Jesus Christ in his own personal bible.**

and "I got divorced because I loved my country too much".)

Beerhound never takes my advice.  He visited Custer's Last Stand.  It made a big impression on him.  The dust bunnies in this house outnumber him by the hundreds.  He's not dumb.  It only takes a few Indians with arrows or dust bunnies with sharp objects, and you're a dead man.

I came downstairs today, after a week in bed.  I'm appalled and now I'm tired.  So I'm going back upstairs to hack and cough some more.  But I'll leave you with these two thoughts.  I wrote them for our home school section and our passions section.  Just in case you don't read those sections.  And because for reasons that only a computer savvy person would know, those sections are not saved in perpetuity like our "Home" posts.  We'd like them saved.  Sometimes they're pretty darn cute.  Sometimes they're not.  Carol and I don't really care.  We just want to have them on hand so that a year down the road when trotting around Scotland drunk as skunks, we can publish them and claim we're still keeping up with our writing.

Homeschool Conundrums:

I have nothing of value to add here.  I'm trying to get Emma through her college applications.  This entails, on my part, putting together a transcript of all her classes and grades awarded.  Printing out a graduation certificate and helping her to write a thoughtful, insightful paragraph filled with bullshit that will impress college admissions boards.  Actually, I'm pretty sure she could just make a note stating that she is 1/4th Native American and that she has overcome multiple family deaths, not to mention successfully managing being Bipolar and she'd be a shoo-in but she'd rather take the easy way out and write some stupid essay that no one is going to read and that no one will remember 24 hours after they read it.  But hey, that's the new and improved collegiate system.

Applause all around for higher education.

Our Passions:

"Tis the season of our discontent"  Passions, really?  I just want to get through the winter.  I hate the winter.  If I didn't hate Florida so much, I'd probably be a winter bird or turkey buzzard or eagle.  I'm not sure what they call them.  I'm too young anyway.  Beerhound is on his second job - he retired after 24 years from the Navy - and he still has 10 years left before he can retire again so we ain't moving to Florida anytime soon.  Not that I would.  Virginia is the farthest south I deign to live.    So...., right now my  passion is daylight savings time.

I will say we have had warm weather.  Therefore I will not take this opportunity to complain about living in a red state during an election year and being subjected to Mr. Can't Do Cantor or Governor O'Donnell, he's on his way out anyway.  Thank you sweet Jesus.

My passion - definitely daylight savings time.  I noticed it's a leap year also.  Our calendar sucks! but at least I'm not a Mayan believer.  I'll put up with one more 24 hour cycle of gloom and be happy for it because sooner or later the happy day will be here and though I will miss an hour of sleep, I'll gain an hour of glorious sunlight and be that much closer to sweat, humidity, air conditioner, mosquitoes and warmth.