This is what my MIL said to Beast on the phone Christmas morning. I was not well enough to go to church Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. She called and the phone got passed around and when Beast had the phone, MIL asked to talk to me, and he told her I couldn't talk and had no voice. I heard her ask if I went to Midnight Mass (always went when we visited her for Christmas, but my parish has 10:30 Mass the latest), and he told her no, nor did we go this morning. I woke up when we should have been at the church already. She then said "Oh wow! She really must be sick then if she didn't go to church"
Yes I am. Augmentin = horse pills. Constant coughing due to lung spasms for lack of sufficient oxygen = raw throat. Devildog hates the "psst" I have to use to get someone's attention, despite the fact that's how I call my kids when we're in public. The number of "psst" is the number child I'm calling, and it's more fun to see what kind of looks I get from people than a game of Marco Polo. Everyone's becoming more proficient at figuring out the mix of charades and handful of sign language signs that I remember. And when all else fails I get pen and paper or use my cellphone text screen to get the message across.
Merry Christmas family, you got a wife & mother that can't nag you because she can't talk. Now I just have to figure out which one of these yayhoos put in that request to Santa. Next year they're getting a huge pile of coal.