Dennis Hollingsworth

Wuh. Happy Frickin' New Year.

Well, it's not the first time we have camped out the New Year esconced in bed. It's just that this time, we're not downing pints of Haagen-Das and watching DVD's with the phone switched off.

We're recuperating for the first hours of 2006.

Stephanie came out of the surgery today just fine, although she feels like she has been hit with a baseball bat. Reinjured to fix a broken shoulder as the good doctor sutured her bones together, it's back to square one of pain. She'll be alright, she's tough.

I, however am waylaid by a cold (by contrast, I'm a wus, hear my whine) caught in Michigan over Christmas. Like a hurricane that spins at a shoreline for too long, this spinning contaigen doesn't seem to lose its energy. It's an upper respiratory type that works its dirty deed at night and keeps my body locked in a low feaver, zapping my laryx for days. Nasty.

And the news is all about a California Flu Virus or somesuch (knocking on wood, I don't want to add that immunity to my lymph system library)... but what about this Novi Michigan Cold Germ?

And if you would like to know, here's a pic of the surreptitious innoculator of pathogens himself. Dr. Germ I presume?

Happy New Year, everyone!