Young kids are basically petri dishes.  My little grommet shows his caring/sharing side by gathering germs at school faster than I can say "Purel" and bringing them home, insuring that for his two days of sniffles, I will adopt the bug the way it was meant to be: as a full-blown 5 day sneeze fest, complete with swollen, watery eyes and a toasty little fever to keep me warm at night.  At least people move out of my way at the grocery store and post office.  Stay at home when I'm sick?  Give me a break, you try that with a first grader, a houseful of pets, and about-to-be overdue bills sitting in our mailbox.  It's about as realistic as me sleeping in beyond six A.M for the next 10 years of my son's school career (I'm counting on my first grader to get grouchy/sleepy when he becomes a senior in high school, and I'm scheduling my sleep accordingly).

But I'm lucky.  Right now, my job consists of emailing and conference calls outlining the various paid writing gigs I have.  That means I've joined the ranks of those who respond, "These aren't pajamas, they're yoga pants" when queried.  Saves on dry cleaning, too.  Heck, the business call I'm scheduled for today involves a publisher on the West Coast; with the time difference that's a bonus hour before I have to slap on a baseball cap!

But when the ski season starts, I'm not so lucky.  It's this simple: no work, no pay.  Ski instructors and other seasonal workers depend on making hay while the sun shines, or in our case making bank while the snow falls and the nose drips.  It means that I'll be teaching when the change in altitude from the chairlift makes me feel like I'm popping an eardrum,   and when the smell of Spruce Saddle's lunch makes me more queasy than usual (I do like the pizzas there, though).

So let me hoard those cans of chicken noodle soup and packets of vitamin C from the store....I'm going to need them, my winter gig depends on it!