super trouper lights are gonna find me shining like the sun smiling, having fun feeling like a number one

Last night the Stockard Channing home remedy seemed to work. I curled up on my couch with a mug full of whiskey, hot water, lemon and honey. I swaddled myself in fleece, the big red scarf, and a quilt. I watched about an hour and a half of Star Wars Episode 3. I passed out-book in hand, of course-and awoke this morning at 7:20am. I told myself that after a very hot shower if I still didn't feel well I could call in as no one expected me to come in today anyway. Imagine my surprise when I actually did feel pretty good post-shower. I even walked to work. I've had just about everyone tell me I shouldn't be here, but I'm fever-free and being pretty psychotic with the hand washing and the anti-bacterialing. I'm stuffy and coughing and tired. But I'm here. And on day 6 of 7 days in a row.

The weekend is within my grasp.

I did end up ripping out the lacy scarf and I'm finally happy with the pattern and the width, but I'm so sick of working with the yarn. It's a hand-dyed silk thing that's all noveltied out. I keep gazing at the wool I purchased last week longingly. I just want to push through and finish this project. I need to check if I'm able to bring my knitting needles on the plane for next weekend as when all those crazy runners are out running 13.1 miles my Mom and I can find a nice bookstore/cafe and sit and knit like the crazy addicted women we are.

I've started reading "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time" by Mark Haddon. It's a book I avoided due to it's book club quality, but Peter's reading his new book and mentioned that he liked this one. I like it. The stilted candence of the prose could be gimmicky, but it's not. The fact that it's written in first person with a very specific character could get annoying or cliched, but it doesn't. It reminds me of--and I can't believe I'm going to say this--but it reminds me of how I felt the first time I read James Frey's "Million Little Pieces." Though I'm not a drug addict in recovery, Frey wrote such a compelling and specific first person narrative it made me feel as if I could completely identify with him. Haddon writes this 15 year old autistic boy and makes him so accessible. I've also been reading this Phillip K. Dick "The Man in the High Castle" which is this crazy trip of a science fiction book that imagines the world if Germany and Japan had won WWII and all of the characters in the book are reading a best-selling novel that imagines a world if the Allies had won WWII. And nonfiction wise I've decided to read the much talked about as of late Bob Woodward Trilogy of G.W.B. I love that the administration encouraged the American people to read the first 2 and are saying that the last one is less than accurate.

In the annoyingly familiar famous words of The Rolling Stones:
You can't always get what you want.