They must be related

It never failed. If we had something fun planned when we were growing up, Tamara was going to get sick. Every Christmas she'd faithfully get her part in the Nativity play at church and every year she'd have to drop out at the last minute. I remember watching her from the manger scene as she sat miserably in the front row with an enormous box of kleenex and bleary red eyes. The church ladies smartened up and started giving her parts in the play that wouldn't cause too much disruption when she couldn't do it. Nobody minded too much when "little Dutch girl" or "fourth camel" weren't there. It wasn't just Christmas though. All too vividly I remember the time we went to my cousin Bobby's wedding and she puked all over me in the hotel bed the night before the ceremony. And my own wedding, when she came down with a 103 fever and missed all of the rehearsal day activities (she did pull through in time for the wedding though, and she wasn't even the bridesmaid that passed out at the altar). Yes, Tamara was incredibly gifted in the art of poor sickness timing. If she and Louie ever get married, he had better give her a fake date and then make all the plans for the real wedding a week later, then maybe she'll have recovered from the pneumonia or violent puking or whatever it is that she'll inevitably contract in time to actually walk down the aisle.

Fiona is cut from the same cloth. Within the past year: Puking and feverish on parade day after Thanksgiving, croup for Christmas barfing when we had guests invited over, and most disappointing of all, cold and fever on FAIR DAY! She woke up from her nap with a fever of 101 yesterday and has had a steady stream of snot running down her face ever since. All the "fair fun for ewe and mee!" that we promised Tamara isn't going to happen this trip. At least Tamara understands, having been there many, many, MANY times before.