Can you die of a sore throat?

My throat hu-u-u-u-uuuurrrrrtttts.  It feels so good to type that because it hurts too much to say it out loud.  If I could talk I’d spend the day telling everyone who looks my way how much my throat hurts.  Seriously.  It feels like I swallowed a neck-shaped piece of burlap, followed by a box of burning matches, followed by a little guy who rubs the burning burlap all over my throat every time I swallow or talk or whisper or eat anything that does not come in a carton and is not kept in the freezer.

The kids have been troopers through my involuntary vow of silence.  Rocco speaks a lot of sign language and Vincenzo mostly just needs to be whacked with various bats and swords periodically in lieu of being spoken to.  Kevin’s as sick as I am so he’s okay with the temporary break from my daily debriefing of  all the things I could have bought but didn’t that day and whether or not we got just the right shade of cream for the bathroom and if he thinks the cat likes me or him best.

My throat has less than 24 hours to heal itself before Thanksgiving dinner or I’m going to have the quietest, raging temper tantrum ever because my brief Internet searches have yielded results about Ice Cream in Turkey but haven’t found a single thing about Turkey in Ice Cream.  I could,  however, make my own sweet potato ice cream or get some green bean ice cream imported from Beijing.*

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Chocolate moo’d shakes from Jamba Juice

*No gravy ice cream, however; Ben & Jerry’s has apparently discontinued Wavy Gravy Ice Cream.  Though I’m pretty sure I could make a gravy popsicle in time if anyone has one of those insta-freeze thingamajigs…