Angie is throwing up and we visit a hospital!

So Angie woke up feeling sick yesterday. Around 1 pm she began throwing up and did that several times an hour until 8 pm when I threw her in the car and we went to my new favorite hospital, Gilbert Hospital.

Before I go on, I know what you are all thinking: "What? Chris, the FedEx BCS National Championship football game was going on and you stopped watching to take care of Angie? You are a Saint!"

I appreciate your kind thoughts, I really do, but nothing is too good for my Angie! Plus she was puking a lot! I knew our good old friend, Dehydration, would be coming for a visit soon.

The people at Gilbert Hospital could not have been nicer! They gave me a nice chair, they put the football game on a nice small flatscreen in the room for us to watch and they have a soda fountain right there in the ER! Free Diet Cokes all night long! And as an added bonus, they took really good care of Angie.

We were there for a total of 5 1/2 hours with all kinds of tests, IVs, doctors, nurses, etc. The long and short of it is that she was really dehydrated, had a nasty virus and has to stay in bed on various drugs for a couple of days.

The only sketchy part of the whole evening was near the middle of our stay in the hospital when she was dehydrated and starting to go in and out of being lucid. I knew she was totally out of it when she turned to me at halftime of the game and said "If I die, you can remarry."

This was not what I was expecting to hear from my poor sick wife. She wasn't THAT sick, but she felt like dying. I copy the exchange below. Now all you women with perfect husbands can cast the first stone. If not, don't pretend your husband isn't the same!

Angie: If I die, you can remarry.

Chris: Don't worry, I wouldn't remarry.

Angie: Seriously, it's ok and I know you--you can't be alone.

Chris: I didn't say I would be alone, I just said I wouldn't get remarried.

Suddenly it was like a flash of white hot energy went through her entire body. She had a heaven-sent source of adrenaline! It was a hospital miracle! She was going to live!

When the doctors pulled her off me she was still screaming "I am beating you on behalf of all women" over and over. Luckily the drugs kicked in soon after and she was able to rest.

If she asks me about it today I will tell her she was dreaming and that the entire night was a blur of pain, drugs and football.

Jackson the Day Trader and Future Wall Street Baron

A quick one while Angie recuperates:

I usually make the boys school lunches (unless they get hot lunch but they are all so picky and for some reason the school doesn't offer pizza every day). This morning Jackson made his own lunch before I got up.

Christopher, sensing an opportunity, immediately alerted me that Jackson had not made a "normal" lunch. Here is the exchange:

Chris: Jackson, what did you pack in your lunch?

Jackson [confused by the question]: Nothing.

Christopher [running up to me]: He only packed cookies! He only packed cookies, He only packed cookies!

Chris [turning to Jackson]: What? How many cookies?

Jackson: 8.

Chris: [only sputtering noises came out of my mouth]

Jackson [very defensively]: What? Do you know what I can trade those for? I can have the best lunch in the school.

Sensing he was correct, I let it go. I admire his business acumen. Plus Angie was asleep so I couldn't get in trouble for letting him leave the house with a lunch consisting solely of 8 Oreo cookies.

I'm sure somewhere a mother or two or three lovingly packed some nice lunches that were all eaten by my son Jackson. It's not all a loss, though, as your son(s) and/or daughter(s) probably got a couple of Oreos out of the deal.

The street value of this pile of Oreos can only be calculated in an elementary school lunchroom:

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Jackson's future employment: