This last Sunday I was expecting to be away from bentspoon.net for at least three days. Our family was invited by another family to go to their cabin in Lake Tahoe so that we, and our kids, could go snowboarding / skiing. Plans changed, as plans do with kids, and our oldest headed up Friday after school with the family; our oldest is best friends with their youngest.

That was great. It was an awesome experience for him. He was a little out of his comfort zone, but he was with people he trusted, which made the experience positive. So Sunday, after my wife returned from a business trip the night before, she, our youngest and I headed up to Lake Tahoe so we could join in on the fun.

Three hours later there we were, pulling into the parking lot of Homewood -- an old school kind of ski slope. Our oldest had opted for a lesson that morning, which he had just finished. Our youngest was excited to get on the slopes, but...and here was the but...he didn't want lessons. The last time he had been on skis was three years before.

Three hours later, the four of us were in the car heading back home to the SF Bay Area. The oldest was too tired to do any more, and had no interest in staying to ride the next day. The youngest made six futile attempts at skiing on his own with the help of his parents, who ride snowboards, and would never be confused with ski instructors.

And I thought this was not fun. We actually did make a good time of it. We talked a lot on the ride home. We stopped for dinner at a diner. We stopped at our favorite ice cream spot when we got home. We made the best of busted plan.

Then the next morning I woke up with a sore throat. I was a little tired. No big deal. Then later in the afternoon I had a headache. The morning after that the headache was excrutiating. Could it be? Two months earlier I had contracted strep throat, and this felt terribly like that.

A quick trip to the doctor, and yes, I indeed had strep throat again. And with this I had absolutely no desire to even turn on my computer, forget about reading email, or checking in on bent spoon.

The day was lost to lying in bed, and struggling with...well, struggling with my self. Despite analgesics, and decongestants I was restless, and overcome with the malaise of illness. My aching body -- head, joints, sinuses, muscles -- was all that existed. There was nothing else. There were no world politics. There was no Global Warming. There was no gap between Rich and Poor. There was just me, wishing that this fog of discomfort would soon wane.

Ten Advil, three amoxycilin, and eighteen hours later the fog is lifting, and here I sit typing. And here I sit trying to remind myself of that moment, of being in the moment, of having nothing else in my life except for experiencing what I was feeling, what was happening. The context of the event was not positive, but the immediacy of the moment is a great reminder that whenever I'm doing something, anything, I need to be in that moment, focusing on the now.

Well, pardon me. The kids just came racing into my office, and are screaming for scotch tape or something. I've lost this moment, and need to work to focus on the next one.