So this year’s Feastival is over. I think we would call it a success. 106 guests over 12 hours, with two prominent elected officials that I could not chase away because my guests liked to talk to them. (As long as they did not bring an entourage of handlers and turn my event into a photo op, I could tolerate having uninvited guests.)
Spouse even managed to…
…remain for most of the event. He tuckered out about 1800 and went next door to rest.
The party continued until the last guest and last sibling left at 2300. Thankfully, my family die-hards stayed to help clean up.
I retrieved the Spouse and we both hit the sack.
We were planning to get up early on Friday and take a load of garbage (11 big bags in all) to the dump, but my own health had another plan. About 4am, I had an attack of my lingering chronic illness that I keep mostly at bay by managing my diet, drinking lots of water, and not overextending.
Those illness-management controls went out the window on Thursday. Without knowing it, I became dehydrated. I nibbled all day, which isn’t good. I was a ball of energy with my guests and probably expended tens of thousands of calories running to-and-fro. My pedometer indicated over 20,000 steps (about 10 miles of walking — in my own house!)
Friday was a “black Friday” for me. Trust me, you do not need a description of what happens when this condition flares up. I spent all day Friday tending to my health to recover — resting, drinking fluids, and eating more sensible, light meals including my uncle’s curative chicken soup. (No, not turkey soup!)
Spouse helped me a great deal — he was always asking me, “what can I get you?” then popping up to get me water, something to eat, a pillow, … whatever. He said, “for all those years of tending to me when I was sick, this is the least I can do!”
Today, Saturday, I am feeling better. Spouse and I will dump the trash and finish cleaning. Weather is supposed to be warm, so I may even get out for a short Harley ride, depending on how I feel. (No worries, I do not ride when fatigued.)
Life is short: recovery takes more time as one ages.