Streptococcus. That's one of those words that are just so much fun to say. Sometimes I sit alone and say it slowly under my breath: streptococcus. Even more so today now that I find out Cookie has strep throat -- he's downstairs now watching Spongebob instead of being in school where he hasn't been since Thursday. And I almost had him out the door -- got him all showered and dressed this morning, made his sammich for lunch, got on the phone to return the message left from the clinic yesterday and they said it: streptococcus. (Did she say it that way or is that what I heard?) So there was no sending him to school after all -- which was just as well, since he'd sneezed a few times and sent huge gobs of gelatinous booger onto his sleeve and down the front of his white uniform shirt.

At some point Frylock must summarize the weekend festivities surrounding Don Vito's big Seven-O. I'd do it myself but I'm, you know, kind-a busy saying it: streptococcus.