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Slush To 90

I’m going to hell in a handbasket. I’d like to think I’m aging well, but my body feels the need to prove me wrong on a regular basis. Never mind the general achiness, allergies and stretch marks, it’s the puking that gets me. Far too frequently I pick up some bug from the little man or his classmates that knocks me on my ass. Or has me praying to the porcelain god. Such was the case last night. All evening my gut was grumbling, but I managed to fall asleep at a reasonable hour. Only to be rudely awaken around 1am, and about every half hour after that. And let me tell you, Tofurky Jurky tastes awful coming back up.