Welp, my goal of having my first truly restful, non-ill Christmas was almost a reality. Almost.
I mean, to be fair I have been an autoimmune illness stricken carcass train wreck since October, but I truly was on the mend, but then the hubs went down with some sort of plague this past Monday.
This is only the fourth time he's been sick in 25 years, so it's an unfamiliar situation for him to be ailing to say the least. He never complains, but this thing hit him hard so I did my best to keep him comfy.
While in the midst of my ministrations to the one who was having trouble breathing, my daughter, who is currently in Illinois meeting all her soon to be family, called me and asked me if I would make a few dinners for her soon to be dad-in-law as he had fallen off a ladder while trying to string Christmas lights and had broken his foot.
He has thirteen dogs and takes care of three special needs kids as well, one that requires round the clock care, so when she and her intended asked if I could make them a couple dinners, well, you can imagine my response.
So, while the hubs was convalescing, I spent nine hours Wednesday crafting several pounds of homemade spaghetti, mac and cheese, garlic bread, and cracker candy. The boy and I delivered it to our new fam later. They are hanging in there.
That night I noticed a tell-tale burning at the top of my throat and figured that spending all night tending to the coughing and struggling to breath hubs had left me, well, incubating.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling dandy, aside from that bit of a throat burn, so I baked most of the treats needed for this weekend's Christmas festivities. By 4 in the afternoon I was in bed. The rest of the night was not pleasant.
My nose was a river, my face felt like it was being pummeled by ten angry be-gloved leprechauns with a penchant for anti-hobbit violence.
It was not a fun night.
However, this morning, aside from hacking like a person who had a life-long penchant for smoking Virginia Slims, I am upright. Somewhat. Ugh.
They say attitude is everything, right?
Which brings me to the one bright spot that this soup of suck week gifted me.
The troughs.
Right now, in my cow pasture there sits three troughs full of ice water.
Two nights ago the bruhs must have been watching Wim Hof Tik Toks or something because they decided to take in a couple ice baths. If I hadn't been so busy tending the ill and maimed I might have partaken in the festivities myself, as Lord knows I could use some carcass restoration, just like my house. Let's just say after the troughening there were wet shoes and towels everywhere.
The water from our well comes out of the ground at 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The boys filled the livestock troughs with the liquid ice water, then they added chunks of frozen snow to the mix. Of the three, only my son fully immersed himself in the freezing bath, and stayed there for two whole minutes, twice.
I am so proud of him, just think of all the restorative benefits he achieved!
Long ago when I wasn't a wellness train wreck I used to partake in things like running into the 37 degree Pacific Ocean in Alaska and having a good frolic. It warms the cockles of my frost bitten heart to see the tradition carried on...
Alas, the tradition of having some sort of illness every dang Christmas time needs to be drop kicked to the moon. Perhaps I should take a dip in the ice water and see what happens, it can't be worse that the current state of things馃槈
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's definitely not taking any ice baths anytime soon or ever iPhone.