It turns out that whatever viral bad guy knocked me arse over teakettle last week was just the nucleic acid equivalent of a warning shot over the bow. I was feeling better, I really was. I bucked up, trouped myself over to my Mum’s for The Big One….
Wait…hold on. You want pictures from the big one?
The big hit this year was “Photobooth” on my MacBook. A few samples of the big fun…
It would appear that the urge to photograph oneself with a computer camera is overwhelming and spans generations. (Erin really got the hang. There are several shots that I can’t show you. We have standards here at Chez Harlot.) The universal reaction to seeing oneself in realtime on a computer screen? “Hey…that’s me!”
For Auntie Rams, one of the dancing pictures…
This year we focussed on teaching the next generation of dancers. Get ’em young, that’s our motto. A very good time was had by all, yours truly especially. I felt like I had really kicked the virus, was feeling way better and then whammo. Saturday morning woke up and could hardly move. Misery abounded. I remember very little (blissfully) of Saturday and Sunday…and only the vaguest miserable patches of yesterday. Last night I took three extra strength cold/flu pills and lost consciousness, and today I’ve almost regained the will to go on. (I may not have regained the ability to write coherently or with any real wit, so forgive the lack of entertainment in this post, will ya?)
I’ve always suspected that knitting was pretty much an automatic function for me, and here we finally have proof. Knitting I don’t remember doing.
The tally continues to rise, really slowly…thanks to our good friend Mr. Influenza. (This flu is absolute revenge for the conversation I had with Ken last week where I totally dissed the flu shot. Never let it be said that viruses don’t have a sense of humour and a poignant grasp on irony. They totally do. I am weeping, feverish, snotty proof.) I’m almost finished with the emails up to the 19th December. (Sorry, sorry…I suck.) If you haven’t had a confirming email from me, then your contribution isn’t recorded yet. This means the number is headed for epic, epic things. Be amazed.
Happy New Year. More tomorrow, when I am theoretically less sick, more engaging and playing with eggs. (You’ll have to wait and see what that means.)