I swear, in my old age I’m getting to be like freaking Goldilocks. I’ve only got the motivation and energy to socialize when the weather is decent. Not too hot, not too cold…or I fall back into the hermit habit (a behavior I picked up from the husband, I might add). This weekend I should have spent more time socializing. It was Indian Summer revisited (why couldn’t we have had this weather the Saturday before, for our reception?). Friday night we did make it out to the all ages Low show, at the Triple Rock. Lucky for me it was an early event…so I was able to enjoy it without the usual show-induced exhaustion. It was lovely. Got to see some of my favorite Duluthians and afterwards we visited with other friends for a bit, too. But somewhere along the way it all went wrong. Saturday we were supposed to see a friend who’d be up visiting from Chicago. But his band got in to town late, played their show, and left immediately afterwards. I don’t know that I’d have been good for too much excitement anyhow. Woke up with a sore throat and that uh-oh inkling of a cold about to blossom. By Sunday it was in full bloom. Managed to get two playground visits in for the little man before it hit me head-on. Today it’s at its peak (I hope) and so we had to skip out on a morning play date. Luckily I seem to be the only one afflicted in the household. So things could be much worse. I could have had my jaw broken, for instance. Poor Starfire. When one of the nicest guys around gets his jaw broken, for no good reason, well, my already shaky faith in humanity takes one on the chin. A weekend of reading (and re-reading) such happy tomes as Walter Mosley’s Futureland, Greg Egan’s Distress and Ray Bradbury’s classic Fahrenheit 451 did little to help this feeling. Get well, my friend, and take plenty of pain meds.
