If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours, you’ll know why

Well, it’s sad times here at our house. P has been stricken by what appears to be the stomach bug that I’d thought we’d managed to dodge. As I sit here on the couch watching The Golden Globes and wondering if Sandra Bullock’s bangs are of the clip-on variety, he has been quarantined to our bedroom. I should probably go check on him but I’d hate to wake him up. Or worse, catch what he has.

However, I think we all know that once the stomach virus enters a home it takes no prisoners. Which is why I’ve been very careful about what I eat tonight since there’s a good chance it might end up on a list of foods that are dead to me.

The irony is that I really thought Caroline was coming down with something. On Thursday night she was completely congested and had that glassy look in her eye that is usually a harbinger that cold season is about to take you down. We were up several times during the night and I even offered to let her stay home from school on Friday, but she insisted she wanted to go because it was the end of the 9 week grading period and she was desperate for perfect attendance.

That trait skipped my generation.

After school on Friday she seemed better but we still laid low most of the weekend. It was rainy and cold here which is the kind of weather that just begs you to stay in your pajamas and be completely unproductive. And who am I to say no?

Late Saturday afternoon, Caroline had another basketball game. It brought me as much joy as the first one except they were playing a team of girls that seemed to have a little more experience. Which is my polite way of saying they were way too aggressive according to the league rules and the refs didn’t call them on it. Not that I’m bitter about it.

When the game was over, P and Caroline packed up and left to go to the ranch for the night. And I was ALL BY MYSELF. I debated all my various options and ultimately chose pajamas, the couch, homemade mac and cheese for dinner and the Miss America pageant.

And let me tell you, I chose well, young Jedi.

(Is that even a real line from Star Wars? It seems right but I am not a fan of the Star Wars movies because they involve space and spaceships and science fiction.)

I grew up watching the Miss America pageant. It always seemed like such a big event. I’d grab my little notebook and keep track of various scores as they scrolled across the screen. It probably speaks to the fact that I grew up in the 70’s that I truly believed that being Miss America was the female equivalent of a boy growing up to become the President of the United States. A boy would have to work hard, make good grades, build a political resume, but all a girl had to do was be able to play a decent rendition of Moon River on the spoons and have hair that defied the laws of gravity for all her dreams to come true.

In recent years I haven’t watched many pageants. I think this is directly related to the fact that most pageants are no longer aired on a major network and I forget to regularly check the T.V. Guide to see what’s on CMT. But on Saturday night, ABC brought the pageant back complete with our favorite host of bad television, Chris Harrison. Well done, ABC. Well done.

And so what could have been an average Saturday night with carbs and pajamas, turned into a veritable extravaganza of sparkly gowns, big hair, smiles that have seen more than their share of Crest Whitestrips, and black two-piece swimsuits that looked like the underwear section of a 1978 J.C. Penney catalog.

My cup was already overflowing when the talent portion began. American viewers were treated to an array of talent that included a rendition of Papa Was A Rolling Stone and an Irish Riverdance complete with a moonwalk.

And then Miss Arkansas showed the world that she was a yodeling ventriloquist. At that point I might as well have just turned off the T.V. because the only thing that could have topped it is if one of the contestants had answered, “Is that NeNe Leakes’ sister?” when asked about the WikiLeaks controversy during the interview portion.

But these girls were way too polished for that. Miss Nebraska even used the word “espionage” in her answer which is probably why she is our new Miss America.

And, bottom line, no one admires how well you can engage in a debate about national healthcare when you look that good in a swimsuit. Although I’m sure I’ve turned heads at the neighborhood pool when people hear me discuss my thoughts on U.S. foreign policy.

After the pageant was over I still wanted to make the most of my free night so I watched P.S. I Love You with Hillary Swank and thought it was pretty good. I also can’t figure out why no one ever mentioned that Harry Connick, Jr. is in it because I would have seen it long before now had I known.

I went to church on Sunday morning and came home with tentative plans to go see The King’s Speech before P and Caroline got home. But then P called and said they were on their way.

They walked in and P announced he wasn’t feeling great. Unfortunately he didn’t mention it until after I’d kissed him hello. And then I went to unpack Caroline’s bag and came across several bones from various dead animals about the same time P’s stomach virus kicked in.

I don’t know which made me feel worse at the time. But I have a feeling which one might make me feel worse in twenty-four hours.