The week we got back from New York, Cheech got sick. Then it was my turn, then hers again, and then mine again. Back and forth, back and forth for at least six weeks. And then at some point, Joe got in on the action, too. By the end of it, our medicine cabinet had beed raided and we had easily gone through a case of toilet paper (tissue boxes are for wusses). So this Thanksgiving, I have lots to be thankful for, but the one thing that truly stands out is that this entire family can finally breathe through all six of its nostrils.
Happy Thanksgiving, guys. This is the best holiday. Food + the special people in your life = ❤