Happy Monday, you guys. Or, Happy Sunday / Fathers' Day / Master's Tournament Watching Day to those back in the States, and Happy Middle of the Night to those on the European continent. It's a tricky one, coordinating the holidays when your only real duty is to call your parents around a 10-hour time zone change. I have to say that my parents hear much more from me then Amos' parents hear from him. Chalk it up to the perks of no 9-to-5. (Or, in Amos' case, 6:45-to-5:45).
Also, a note on Father's Day: is it just me, or have the worldwide marketing departments taken the easy route with Father's Day and decided to just suggest alcohol all the time? Neither of our Dads drink, so it doesn't ring true as a 'must have' for Father's Day. I never seem to run into it on Mother's Day (no ubiquitous references to mimosas or sav blanc), but it seems like every card mentions a day drinking scotch, and every gift list insists on whiskey rocks, and come on, let's think a little broader then that, shall we?
It was a quiet weekend around here, and when I say a quiet weekend, I mean really quiet, and a bit feverish too: Amos got very sick on Saturday and spent the whole day in bed with a fever. The kid never complains about getting sick, so when he crawled back into bed by 10AM, I knew things were bad. When he got dizzy every time he got up out of said bed, I began to wonder. He was flaming hot and I was running the options over in my head: at what point to do worry about a fever and why-oh-why didn't we bring a thermometer over from the States? I made the ultimate wife call and said that until he was hallucinating, I wasn't going to fret over the fever. I forced cold medicine and water down his throat, pulled the covers over him, and then watched an entire season of Mad Men, waiting for him to get better.
By Sunday, Mike wasn't 100%, but his body temperature was back in the normal range. Those 24 hour bugs, man. They're brutal. He's back to work today, with just a small cough, and I have begun to clean everything in our apartment. I'm on a mission to avoid the bug ma' self. Amos is a stoic man, only mentioning he felt bad a couple times during his fever. I, on the other hand, cried on Friday when I stubbed my toe. To be fair, it hurt. A lot. I have quite a bit invested in avoiding getting sick.
I'll be back tomorrow with some good stuff: books I've been reading, coffee I've been drinking, Japanese food I've been cooking. Wait for it. Until then, call your Pops and say hello.