Let's see, life kinda kicks you in the ass once in a while. And October was one of those months. The start of October held 18 hour work days leading up to our annual Gala (which went well - the worst part of the evening being my car not starting at the end and having to have cute boys jump start it), followed by finding out that my darling J was coming home from the tour early! A whirlwind week of having my baby back to do dishes, only prolonged my inevitable "I just had a major event, and now my body's going to collapse with whatever sickness is floating around" about 5 days, just in time for me to be sick for the whole week prior to Italy, in which I had my first experience of having to let someone go on staff. So after finally making it to a doctor, who informed me that I indeed was sick and needed lovely medicine, I was healthy enough to do a little bit of apple/pumpkin picking with the littlest maksimow and her-chicks:
I then packed up my suitcases and got on a 12 hour flight across the ocean to Italy where I had a whole 12 hours of healthiness before the 36 hours of almost no sleep and working like a dog led me to illness number 2. So yes, I spent my 6 of my 8 days in Italy with no tastebuds, congestion like the Holland Tunnel at rush hour, and bearing a plague that would fell even the mightiest of oaks. But I did get to stay in the olympic village:
So I finally was feeling like myself, just in time for another 22 hours of travel to come home. And now it's November, my cold is almost nonexistant and life should calm down.
whoo, I'm tired.
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