Death by Oreo cookies

No, he isn't really dead but he is really sick. My kids are on a virus marathon this year. Every single micro-organism that is air borne within a 100 kms, it has a destiny with one of my kids.

Jacy Rodrigo was being indulged by his Mama as I let him eat Oreo cookies in my bed. Yes, that is my heinous pillow case. It was inherited from Rui's grandparents, free and don't forget, I am an archaeologist. We have virtually no ability to distinguish between what is appropriate for the 21st century and what is not yet an antiquity. Thus, 1970's linens. Hey, they were from before the revolution so you could even refer to them as antebellum linens.

We had a squall line last night that almost gave Lisbon its first hurricane in a long time. It never got a name but it scared the hell out of all of us. Gabriel climbed in bed with Jacy and tried to steal the Oreos. Jacy rummaged enough força to defend both himself and his precious. You can imagine the carnage.

Well, back to writing and back to moving forward with the dissertation.

Form for the day: None, I am writing the archival history of the site

Song of the day: Eric Clapton, Promises (Woman Calling Love Hate)

Wardrobe choice for the day: Head to toe blue robe from Land's End.

Although I smell fine, I never took my jam-jams off today.