Zoë came home from swim practice sneezing and coughing. Passed out most of the day in her bedroom. I'm refraining from picking my nose lest I transfer cooties from anything she's handled.
Our friend Phyllis, who was watching Peg while I rode today, said Peg was "too hungry to sleep" so she gave her at least a half a cup of soup and a popsicle. Doesn't sound like much, but it's way more than she's been eating. And the soup is "Suppa Toscana," which Candice Erba made with heavy cream, bacon and Italian sausage. If you're seriously hungry, this soup is the real deal.
Working on my bike while the girls slept when our friend Leann (Peg's dear friend of almost 40 years) called from near Boulder, Colorado. Was reminded that the deep sadness I feel about all of this is just a shared memory away from floating to the surface...I think I'm less "put together" around all this than I try to convince myself I am. Can (and do) turn into a blubbery mess on a dime.
It's hard...but I can't imagine going through this without friends and family. Just. Can't. Imagine.
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