White Dog whispered to Steve, "Do you think momma would be offended if I offered to eat her share of dinner tonight?" He answered, "With the way she feels right now I doubt she would mind but the meal isn't exactly health food for pups...and you would have to share!"
When Steve pulled the corned beef, cabbage and new potatoes that had been braising all afternoon out of the oven and lifted the lid, White Dog, Quinn, Nuka, and Puff swarmed the kitchen waiting with excitement. Those same usually delicious smells drove me to the bedroom wing of the house where I could shut the door and hide under the covers in the darkness.
Seems I have inherited the stomach flu that visited Steve last week and as I lay curled up and nauseous, I could hear the rest of the family enjoying the traditions of the day, including some lovely Celtic music. I had no desire to join them.
Later, the door quietly opened revealing Steve with a small tray. White Dog accompanied him and hopped up next to me on the bed. The tray contained a very different Irish tradition...plain oatmeal and weak tea.
I am counting the hours. Steve was effected for about 18 hours...if that is my barometer, I think I have about 12 more to go. Until then, River Dancing at the Smith household has been cancelled and there will be no Guiness ice cream floats (which sorely has disappointed The Mighty Quinn).
But I AM green!