Bonjour! Valium anyone?

Julia has a nose bleed - five tempo packs so far... Getting worried. She has a croupy cough, and coughs until she pukes. Patrick just came home and has given himself a knuckle prison tattoo - Four letters starting with F and ending with K. It's not Fink, Funk, Fisk or Folk. Yesterday he tattooed his forearm with a huge cross and JESUS above it. He's like old school Catholic - Don't sin or Jesus will come down and give you an ass-woopin'!
...And let me just quote my greeting to him - Scrub that shit off your hand or I'll do it for you. I don't care if you need boric acid or an ax - don't come out of that bathroom until it's gone.
My Back snapped out on Saturday. By the way.
We have a French exchange student here until next Sunday. His friend prefers us as a host family better than his own, as do all of the French exchange students in the Ostfildern area. Possibly because I am eating muscle relaxants and don't care.
Faites que vous aimez. Do whatever you want.
Aidez-vous à tout notre bon vin. - Help yourself to our good wine.
Saut sur nos meubles! - Jump on our furniture.
Mangez tous nos aliments! Eat all our food!
They opened a "Teddy" Store in Ruit last weekend. It's like the dollar store. Patrick bought a big red plastic trumpet thingy. It opens like a telescope. So far everyone who has come to our house has tried it. Every French exchange student...
And it scares me every time - which makes me jump - which makes my back spazz - which makes me eat more valium - which makes me not give a shit.
And where is my husband while all of this is going on? He returned from China/Tokyo with a severe case of Die-o-ree-a.
Julia, as I said before, is sick and coughing. She is in our bed. I told Uwe to sleep in the other room, but no, he didn't. So... After struggling out of bed (remember, my back...) twice to get Julia more cough medicine I was hurting. I had just fallen back asleep, and having an awesome dream that someone had gotten me a heating pad for my back. It felt so nice. It was so real... No, it WAS real. But, it wasn't a heating pad, it was Julia. Her fever spiked to 103.
I asked Uwe to get her a Tylenol and a glass of water. He got her a glass of Sprudel. Nice carbonated, fizzy, bubbly water. Which stayed down for 3.5 seconds. I was flailing like a beached whale, or a turtle stuck on it's back trying to get the puke pan. UWE! UWE! Where's the puke pan! He comes back in the bedroom and is yelling at us. The Scheiß thing has been in my back all night! Meanwhile,,, Julia was puking her water back into the glass. It was foamy. Puke pan was retrieved from floor, too late. I got up, and started to change the sheets. Because when your back is out - changing sheets is a piece of cake. Uwe stood there. I guess he was waiting. Waiting to go back to bed. Waiting for me to hurry up. He did finally help, but pretended he had never put a fitted sheet on a mattress before. Or maybe he never had. As soon as one corner was on, the other corner popped off. He did that three times. Julia finally told him he had to bend the corner of the mattress up. No shit Sherlock.
This whole cough/puke thing has been going on for three weeks. First Alex, then Patrick and now Julia.
I am ass-deep in dirty laundry.
So now I have written about why I don't write. I guess this counts.
Uwe left yesterday for India, and from there he goes to New York.
Jimmy crack corn and I don't care, Jimmy crack corn and I dont care, Jimmy crack corn and I don't care, my masters gone away.
Time for another back pill.