A couple of ibuprofen and a glass or two of wine last night had me thinking I was well and fine. So I woke, got Isaac to school (both girls were running fevers) and perused the cookbooks for a recipe that matched the ingredients on hand. Blueberry it was. And good it was. Big sister & I agreed that it's probably harder to make a bad pie than a good pie, so I'm not bragging about my mad pie-making skillz or anything.
As the day wore on, I wore out. Sometimes you can't ignore an illness out of you. This would be one of those times. Luckily, Motrin and liquor can mask it for a little while.