High C's and El Gripe
I had a hard time getting up on Sunday morning. No amount of coffee seemed to help, and once I got to church I was tapped to sing, at the last minute because the fluffy stomping lady neglected to show up. I was okay with singing, but not okay with not having the time to do vocal warmups or rehearsal.
It went well regardless. Even did that thing I hate to do - sing soprano. I was pleased that the pastor had taken my advice, adding in some Christmas music with the worship choruses, mixing them together instead of skipping carols under Christmas Eve. One song in particular, "What Child Is This?" really got to me, well specifically one line which I am now thinking about a lot. Particularly in light of the nasty cultural enforcers I cover at NLQ 'The silent word is pleading..' Yes, it is, too bad there are some too listening to the sounds of their own voice to pay attention.
I'd been geared up to talk to and possibly confront Oily Jane, but she showed up five minutes before the end of service, crying and hugging on her husband. I tiptoed away, not enough of an asshole to be mean to someone struggling in some way.
The rest of Sunday was spent in the pool followed by the hot tub. At least until darkness when it became obvious I've gotten the gift that keeps on giving from Jim. His cold. Went to bed early to unsuccessfully try to sleep it off.
Today I've been going from couch to bed to desk to sink, working at about a third of the speed of normal honking, sneezing and blowing my nose. Wolfing down vitamin C, garlic and cold tablets. I wish I could find zinc here, it always seems to cut my colds in two. No such luck. Believe me, I looked. I even went to the Walmart subsidiary here Maxi Pali.
What did help was my dear friend's actions down past the gas station. Juice Man sells home squeezed fresh orange juice, coconut water, coyol wine, orange juice wine and other drinks over by the gas station. I love this guy, but I cannot remember his name. He's bright and sunny like his juice, so when the asthma is bad, or I'm feeling run down I run right over to the station to pick up a few big bottles of juice.
While I saw there he saw I was sick with 'el gripe' - a multiple term I've heard here for both flu and cold pronounced 'Ell Greee-Pay'. He mixed me up something that tasted like honey, lemon, hot water and......... whiskey! Whatever it was I went home and slept most of the afternoon. Better than going to Dr. Fernando who would just nag me about my lipid levels.
It went well regardless. Even did that thing I hate to do - sing soprano. I was pleased that the pastor had taken my advice, adding in some Christmas music with the worship choruses, mixing them together instead of skipping carols under Christmas Eve. One song in particular, "What Child Is This?" really got to me, well specifically one line which I am now thinking about a lot. Particularly in light of the nasty cultural enforcers I cover at NLQ 'The silent word is pleading..' Yes, it is, too bad there are some too listening to the sounds of their own voice to pay attention.
I'd been geared up to talk to and possibly confront Oily Jane, but she showed up five minutes before the end of service, crying and hugging on her husband. I tiptoed away, not enough of an asshole to be mean to someone struggling in some way.
The rest of Sunday was spent in the pool followed by the hot tub. At least until darkness when it became obvious I've gotten the gift that keeps on giving from Jim. His cold. Went to bed early to unsuccessfully try to sleep it off.
Today I've been going from couch to bed to desk to sink, working at about a third of the speed of normal honking, sneezing and blowing my nose. Wolfing down vitamin C, garlic and cold tablets. I wish I could find zinc here, it always seems to cut my colds in two. No such luck. Believe me, I looked. I even went to the Walmart subsidiary here Maxi Pali.
What did help was my dear friend's actions down past the gas station. Juice Man sells home squeezed fresh orange juice, coconut water, coyol wine, orange juice wine and other drinks over by the gas station. I love this guy, but I cannot remember his name. He's bright and sunny like his juice, so when the asthma is bad, or I'm feeling run down I run right over to the station to pick up a few big bottles of juice.
While I saw there he saw I was sick with 'el gripe' - a multiple term I've heard here for both flu and cold pronounced 'Ell Greee-Pay'. He mixed me up something that tasted like honey, lemon, hot water and......... whiskey! Whatever it was I went home and slept most of the afternoon. Better than going to Dr. Fernando who would just nag me about my lipid levels.
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