It's Hairditerary

'Scuse me while I cough my brains out.

*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough
*cough*cough*cough*cough*cough*

But it's not my fault. It's hairditerary. No, not hereditary. Hairditerary. Many moons ago, when I was but a papoose, the Padre had bronchitis/pneumonia/meningitis all at the same time, mostly caused by a spinal infection from the Navy forcing him to get a flu shot. And he nearly died, as you might imagine. Because of that, he now has scar tissue on his lungs and coughs *extremely* loudly and frequently. Fast-forward eleven years to our family trip to Disney World. I get croup. Yes, I was twelve years old and had croup. So now I have scar tissue on my lungs and cough loudly and frequently. It's hairditerary, the Mother Ship says. That version of the word comes from ancient days in the iFiddle family when great-great Aunt Ethel used to say things were "hairditerary." See, you learn something every day.

Leah