Poor lamb

I've been playing nurses all day today as my girly-girl descended into high temperature territory yesterday afternoon and was up in the night being a bit sick, and very hot.

The shame of it was that she was due to go to one of her best friends' birthday party today, so all yesterday evening and this morning I encouraged her to lie quietly, keep taking the medicine to get her fever down, take naps and drink lots of water and juice, with the carrot that if she did she was more likely to get better and then she would be able to go to the party. She was as good as gold all day but...

Not to be.

The syringe-fulls of ibuprofen are doing a grand job bringing the fever down (we looooove drugs...drugs are goooood), but her flushed cheeks and our fancy-pantsy forehead thermometer (takes a scan of the temperature near the temporal artery in the forehead in a manner not unlike Star Trek...these 'ere new fangled inventions...ain't they MARV'LUSS) show it goes gliding back up to around 103 once the medicine wears off.

So we had a duvet day, snuggled under said bed coverage on the sofa, watching some silly film from the 60s (great fashions in it!) and generally chatted and hung out. But I had to eventually break the news that she wasn't going to be able to go to the party. She was really disappointed, but very brave about it. And then (breaks your heart) she kept asking, "Has it started yet?" and "Is it over yet?" with resigned deflation in her voice. Awwww.

Had a lovely day at Crafty Pastimes' 12 hour crop on Saturday, although I got naff all done as usual. 12 piggin' hours, and one class layout to show for it. Which was a lovely class by Penny and I suppose I did teach a class too...but still. 12 hours!!!! Well...actually probably 9 3/4 hours for me, as I left home a bit later than intended because I realised when I got up at 6.30 that actually (despite shining my mobile phone into my knicker-drawer when I went to bed - Husband was already asleep and I didn't want to disturb him) I actually had not one clean pair of knickers in the whole house, so I had to put a quick wash in the machine and the house looked like Widow Twanky's Laundry with bloomers all over the radiators drying like mad. Imogen suggested I should have arrived at the crop 'commando'. She's a trollop and I just ignored her. Bwaahaaahaaaa!

I have therefore finally come to the conclusion that I am a Library Scrapbooker. Just like there are two types of studiers: when writing an essay or somesuch project, some people like (even 'need') to have the stereo on, or perhaps the TV, and they enjoy learning for exams in a study-group environment. I, on the other hand, have to disappear to the quietest spot of the quietest library, and get completely irritated with anyone who so much as rustles a sweet-wrapper and disturbs my thought processes. And, blow me down, I think this works for my creative scrapbooking juices as well. Sit me in a crop with a ton of ladies, and I just chat, and shuffle paper about. Even if I have all the right papers, embellishments, photos and whatnots, I still can't manage to put together anything that resembles something a 10 year old did on a good day. BUT sit me on my own, with peace and quiet (and possibly something soothing on the stereo, but certainly not rock music), and I put together lubberly lubberly things.

So. Who's up for a crop where we do a sponsored silence for charity? Eh? Eh?