poor Logan

Logan has whatever dreadful bug Blake had the other day and is at his house, in bed feeling miserable after being up all night praying to the porcelain goddess.

I stopped by and dropped off a bounty of sick-boy stuff, jell-o, juice, gatorade, applesauce, tylenol, saltines, and soup. Please send him resful, recouperative thoughts.

I'm not feeling fabulous, but I haven't been barfing (yet) so I'll count myself lucky.