Finished the final Betsy chapter today. And the final 1968: Fall chapter as well. A wonderful paragraph about a blackberry made all of the recent efforts seem worthwhile. Now I'm trying to come up with an apt title. This is the hardest part. Everything I come up with is either trite, pretentious, way to elusive, way too sentimental, or already belongs to another book. I'm thinking about something like "Two Rivers Elegy." Friends and husband nixed "Blackberry Elegy." (I told you I fancied that blackberry paragraph.)
On the mommyfront: last night we almost took Kicky to the emergency room when I realized that she wasn't trying to get out of dinner but was actually very, very sick. After I managed to teach her how to put the thermometer under her tongue, we discovered that she had a fever of nearly 104. Not to worry, the doctor said (after I had already played out in mind a diagnosis of meningitis, acute lymphoma), they aren't typically concerned about a fever until it exceeds 107. 107??!! As it was, you could practically see the heat rising off of her...wavy little desert highway aura. I brought her to the doctor this morning, and after having to trick her into allowing the doctor to "tickle" her throat with a Q-tip, the diagnosis wasn't even Strep, but a "virus." And because we have a deductible, this little virus will cost us around $80. And the saddest part is that doctor's orders were to stay home, missing the Purim party at her school. We did our best to replicate the festivities in the living room. Patrick and I donned costumes from the dress-up box and banged on instruments as we listened to the Big Band station on our digital cable. Afterwards we made a lemon cake covered in jellybeans. Tonight she went to bed feverless. But alas, Esmee was dripping from eyes and nose, and I feel that certain little tickle in my throat...
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