Heal Me, Oh Great Chocolate

In defense of my beautiful, wonderful daughter, I feel that I must right an injustice that has been done her.

It would appear that I did NOT catch a cold from her. In fact, I don't seem to have a cold at all.

What I actually seem to have is THE FLU.

Which my poor, maligned daughter clearly does not have. (Yet.)

My husband informed me this morning (from sunny, warm, Florida) that, "lots of people at work have the same symptoms you have.

You don't have to be one of Pooh's Supersleuths to know what that means:

It's all my husband's fault.

So, to my darling princess: Mommy is profoundly sorry. Your sweet, slobbery hugs and kisses are indeed making Mommy feel so much better. However, if you could stop coughing and sneezing on Mommy, she'd really appreciate it.

And yes, those are candy wrappers next to the disgusting, used tissues in the photo. Just because I've completely lost my sense of taste doesn't mean that chocolate doesn't still have a purpose.

(I apologize for the crap picture taken with my webcam. I couldn't muster enough brain cells to use the real camera.)

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In other news, we received word today that hubby's DNA test has been received by the labrats at FTDNA. Since he's doing a 37-marker test, they estimate another 6 weeks before we get the results.

If I had any feeling left in my head, I'm sure that I would be immensely excited.

What exactly is a "Pooh," anyway?

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