We went to Colorado for Brian's Grandpa's funeral and it was actually a very nice funeral. The minister had known him well, and he had many Biblical quotes ready that had to do with fishing, because that was something Brian's Grandpa had excelled at. We sang a bunch of hymns, and when we sang, Zelma sang along. She sang along the way an almost-seven-month-old-baby sings- random notes and nonsense words, but a nicely kind of noise, anyway. It was the cutest thing I've ever seen. Of course, I'm not at all biased.
I guess the trouble probably began with the room temperature potato salad we ate after the service. Brian ate a big plate of it, whereas I just had a little dollop. We didn't give any to the baby. Brian later became very very ill. It was probably food poisoning. We somehow managed to fly back home, and after we got here, I got ill, too, though considerably less ill than Brian had been. I still couldn't get up out of bed for longer than five minutes for the better part of yesterday. Zelma appeared to briefly believe that I didn't love her anymore, but we made amends and all is good between us now.
I suppose things could have been much worse. Our flights went well and the baby doesn't seem to have caught anything. We had a nice visit with Mumsy and Kathleen - if you just ignore all that sickness and death stuff.
If you know us, you know that we also had food poisoning on the day we were going to get married, and we had to postpone the wedding. The anniversary of that day is March 9th. We generally celebrate it by eating something nasty that I have baked. Now, since the dates of food poisonings are so close, perhaps we can celebrate each year not just for a day, but for an entire week.