Dear M. It’s a most inauspicious start to our journey. For starters, the longjohns I ordered 9 days ago have not arrived, and they were completely key to my surviving February Chicagoness. And then J.Lo fell ill Sunday evening with some sort of flu-thing that kept him home Monday from work. I took care of him with chicken soup and Gatorade (but forgot the Chicken in a Biscuit crackers, damn), but otherwise avoided him like plague he had clearly contracted. And somehow so far the children and I are unscathed. Thanks be. But from 3000 miles away, you came down with a similar somesuch? And I’m really not sure if I’ve ever in 11 years say that you’ve thrown up. So why the day before we convene in Chi-town. Just, why.
It better get better. It will. (It better.)
As the death flu tries and fails to take you down, I ponder my 9-year absence from the Chicagoland. Subways and city streets – how will it all seem? And our impending absence from the Internets – will we make it? We shall. We’ll take lots of notes in my English Major journal and retain photographic evidence of everything post upon our return. It’s all part of the adventure.
See you in like 17 hours.