Giving My Immune System the Finger

This weekend was awesome and not-so-awesome, in a you can have your cupcake, but you can’t eat it, too kind of way. My parents celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary on Saturday. My brother and his wife were in town, so we drove up to the mountains and met them (after a gorgeous day of skiing, apparently. We got an insane amount of snow on Thursday.) for a mind-blowingly delicious four-course dinner. And given the fact that I have inherited my fondness for the pressed, fermented grape from the ‘rents, we were not without Very Delicious Wine for the entire weekend.

Or, so I deduced from the miniscule sips I pilfered in between feeling woozy from the Superman-strength cold medication I was taking and a heedful of snot. (Note: Superman-strength medicine and alcohol still do not mix in a happy way, for me.) I also heard the food was excellent, and it certainly looked pretty, although I really couldn’t taste much due to the fact that my taste buds were swimming in mucus.

Anybody still reading?

I am not letting any lady-like tendencies get in the way of my descriptions of agony and want. I need you to know how crappy my immune system truly has been this winter, if I am to garner an appropriate amount of sympathy.

Sunday was another ski day, and while the plan was to ditch the un-skiing-inclined Funasaurus in the hotel room and make some glorious, glorious turns with the fam, I instead spent Saturday night hacking up a lung, and could barely make my ears pop going down the stairs. I decided jumping on a ski lift might make my head explode, and so instead we went to the movies while my family skied without me.

I Love You, Man was about as funny as the previews led us to believe, so it wasn’t a total waste. But it was hardly a powder day on the mountain, either. Sunday night was a repeat of Saturday, with another gourmet dinner and some incredible wine. Which I again heard was divine. Le sigh.

But once again my father proved his awesomeness by tipping heavily and procuring the restaurant’s jar of honey so that I could take it back to the hotel with me after I spent the whole meal pounding tea. I seriously chugged that shit straight out of the bear’s head, it felt so good on my throat.

The Funasaurus again proved his awesomeness by not divorcing me after I snotted out the window of his car when I ran out of tissues.

But all sickness aside, we had a blast with my family. There was laughing and surprises and talks of the future, and there may even be a chance that my brother and sister-in-law will make it out for a holiday this year. Which would be really, really awesome. Here’s hoping.