Somebody Fed the Mogwai After Midnight

So maybe it wasn't after midnight. Maybe it was around 4 o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and the culprits were a giant Coke Icee and an entire bag of Reese's Pieces. But whatever the case, The Panic made a resurgence right in the middle of McDreamy's fairytale adventure in Enchanted. Right there in the Mayfaire Cinema, the acid poured into my stomach, the heat rose up into my face, and there was a vague ringing that was probably caused by the incessant beat of my pulse against my eardrum.

And I may have pushed it to the side, shoved it to the back, tried to forget about it as I chased K.Lo through the living room as she squealed to be tickled and listened to her charming performance of the ABCs (often sans T, U and V, but who needs those letters anyway?) and held the Sesame Street book while she reverently pointed out Elmo and Grover and The Count (who she will tell you says, "ah ah ah"). But all that time, they were loose in my brain - cutting the wires and crossing them, revving the engine and leaking the chemicals into my system. I persevered - held tiny baby N. Lo who is very darling -chatted, had dinner.

And then there was later...there was the gagging. But as promised, the gloves came off. I battled back for all I was worth. Through Saturday night and Sunday brunch - and I pushed through and had a great time. And I gave it the old one-two in the car...Sunday evening...I was winning. Until Monday morning. And then, I gave in and let it all go. I sat on the cold bathroom floor with my back against the tub, sweating slightly, and somewhere in the distance, I think I heard someone count me out.