George posted a picture this morning that I love, wish I knew who the photographer was. I also wish I could tell who the girl is, caught in mid-air, perfectly spotlighted by the sun, graceful as any ballerina, but it's not quite clear enough. It looks kinda like Betsy, but could be any number of others. Clearly visible under the basketball goal and to the left is our house, one of those pictures worth at least a thousand words. Enlarge it to at least 200% for the full effect. Ah, the ephemeral beauty of youth!

Since I'm still not able to talk, sing or laugh without coughing, and since it is impossible to attend our church without doing at least one of these, usually all three, I am taking another "sick day." On a 1 - 10 scale, this cold has been an 11, a real monster. Most of the congestion is in my chest, but there is improvement every day. I tried to listen to St. Paul Sunday, but am getting a network error, whatever that is, so I put on a favorite CD, Voices of Praise by the Choir of King's College.

The good thing about this bad cold is that Mike has become more independent. I've been setting up the coffeemaker and opening Pop-Tarts ready for the toaster every night before I go to bed. He's been getting up early and letting me sleep. I still have to help him with the new brace and shoe, but he waits for that until I've had breakfast, and he's doing most everything else for himself. "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!" (Or is that supposed to be "a man," rather than just "man"?)