My mom has this recipe for spaghetti sauce that I really like. It takes a little time to simmer, but it's not hard to make. However, I'm always loath to make it, because it usually portends grim tidings.
Example #1: It's 2000something, and James and I are living in Rexburg. I make the sauce in the morning for use later that night. I also take, like, 8 advil on an empty stomach (an accident, not a cry for help), and then have the worst 24 hours ever. James and I are doing The Importance of Being Earnest, and I spend the whole of rehearsal that night curled in a ball on a settee, unable/unwilling to move.
Example #2: It's 2000something else, and we're in Brooklyn. I make the sauce on a grey afternoon, and it splatters onto my arm. I wipe it off and as I do the skin rolls down like a window shade and I have a quarter sized burn just above my wrist. It's painful, and lasts for a while. In bright sunlight (or Rachel's bathroom) you can still see the mark.
Example #3: It's 2013, yesterday, in fact, and I make the sauce in the morning. Edie woke up grouchy and is not lightening up. She skimps on breakfast, and starts to feel fevered. She naps for a long time, and wakes up super hot to the touch. I try giving her lunch, which she won't eat. I give her a bite of ice cream, and she throws up alllllllllllll over me. It is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. She throws up three times, and I don't even move. I just stand there until she's finished, and then sort of half laugh/half sob for a while.
For worried parties, her fever went down by the evening, after ibprophen and application of cool washcloths (as prescribed by Dr. Silvia). She did not sleep well last night (and neither did anyone else, for that matter), but her fever was almost completely gone this morning. She still seems a little listless and tired, and isn't eating well, but is drinking and seems to be on the mend.
*carrie, this reminds me a lot of your story about georgia. I chalk it up to the universality of babies and mothers.