Frosty

The hills are alive with the sound of...arthritis. Dear Winter, suck it. Sincerely, my left knee.
It's Friday (yipee!) I just subjected my children to an evening with Gene Wilder, Willy Wonka style, as Josh is out with Matt for his bachelor party (Matt's, not Josh's.) I decided Willy Wonka may be just as brilliantly written and performed as Mary Poppins, if not more. I love and treasure them both. I'm also kicking myself for not winterizing our medicine cabinet, as I debated doing on Tuesday, because now a virus of the sneezy/sore throat variety is descending upon our entire household. I'm drowning my sorrows in tea and homeade chocolate chip cookies. I may advance to hot and sour soup tomorrow - it's my fail-safe cure for anything. Now I just have to fight against falling asleep, as this Benadryl causes my pillow to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Zac came home from school today and told me that he's building me my own museum when he gets older. The boy knows me all too well. I was actually bummed because I'm missing the overnight CSI exhibit at the Oklahoma Science Museum tonight. I'm such a nerd. Kasey's teachers asked if we were getting a puppy for Christmas because evidently it's all she wants and she doesn't have one. I told them our dog sleeps with her in her bed at night and they both laughed hysterically. Oh, that girl. I'm missing my brothers' concert tonight in Tulsa; I wish I could have been there. At least I'll get to see them again soon.