It’s an odd thing, but I rarely get sick. Common cold? Not over here it’s not! (Not that I don’t plan on a “sick day” in, oh, let’s say February, just to keep management from taking me for granted – but that’s between you and me.)
And yet in other ways I’m quite delicate. Like a little flower. A little pastry-eating, iPod-wearing, margarita-craving flower…
I bit down on a piece of hard, oddly shaped but delightful chocolate earlier in the week (from Switzerland, so help me!) and then spent the next three days feeling sorry that I had. Not over any silly concern about pant sizes or girth-control, mind you, but because it seems I have the gums and palate of a much frailer woman. You know someone like me, don’t you? One of those people whose mouth is torn apart by Cap’n Crunch or pizza crusts? Throughout the last few days, of course, I have touched it with the tip of my tongue, reminding myself of it...
Still hurt?
Yep.
Does it still hurt?
Yep.
Even now?
Yep.
What about now?
And so on.
But the pain caused by the crispy, crunchy goodness of a pizza crust is no match to the pain I’m in for once a good wind has gotten a hold of me. Fall in Minnesota is a lovely place for wind, and the same gusts that rip the leaves off the trees and send small children stumbling into fences also screams through my ears – the same ears that pop in elevators and make me someone you don’t want to sit next to as we descend into LAX, an airport with a particularly steep drop before landing.
Like I said. I’m a flower.
I say that, knowing full well that it’s not true. Actually, outside of the roof of my mouth and my ears, I’m a sturdy little thing with good teeth and a low center of gravity (“Pearl wobbles but she don’t fall down”, as the old commercial said).
Nevertheless, indoors, on a cold, windy day like today is what my ancestors wished for me, in that Czech/Norwegian/Dane/Scot/Irish/Swiss way they had; and once I finish help Erin move into The Little House in the ‘Hood, that’s where I’m headed.
Indoors.
About Bob Dylan
4 days ago
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10 comments:
I'm picturing those little children blowing into fences. I hope they have ...padding...or something.
You know my beliefs on the sick thing-mayhaps the margaritas keep the germies at bay?
I know, winds like that. Growing up in South Park Colorado, where the wind regularly blew 75 - 100 MPH with gust to 125-130. I always wondered why I walked with a lean, LOL.
My gum's are similar also, but it takes few times to really cause a problem. For some reason, pizza crust is particularly painful. But too much of anything will have an effect. I wish I never got sick, I usually get one to two colds a year, and the flu at least once. I always work though, even when I'm sick, dam workaholic nature.
After reading this I just want to coccoon under my comforter with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch. No make that Captain Morgan..No make that Captain Jack Sparrow...Ah yes, do make that Captain Jack Sparrow.
Peace -Rene
"A little pastry-eating, iPod-wearing, margarita-craving flower…" thats the way I will always think of you Pearl. I dislike wind too - best to be indoors...it will pass.
Hi, Braja.
You know, many of those kids ARE quite padded!
Hi, Derfina.
I think you're on to something! Tequila, limes, and salt all seem to kill all kinds of things: germs, my sense of balance/humility/inhibitions...
:-)
Hi, Eric.
Good theory! :-) Regarding getting sick, I think you should try the Margarita Cure, even if you have to go "virgin" on them. I think Derfina and I are on to something!
Hi, Rene.
Oooh! Captain Jack Sparrow followed by Cap'n Crunch with a Captain Morgan chaser! I like how you think!!
Pearl
Hi, Lilly.
You slipped in while I was responding!
I like thinking that that's how you'll remember me. :-)
Send pastries and tequila.
Pearl
Dear Pearl,
Thanks for visiting The House of Boyo and leaving your kind comment.
I've enjoyed rummaging in the rubbish bins (trash cans, as I believe you have it) of your blog like a Celtic raccoon (or dwarf, long-tailed badger, as we have it).
I too have a low centre of gravity, and maximise its potential by staying semi-prone through the winter months.
A pint of foaming, nut-brown ale keeps out the chill, especially if you've had your man Hengist plunge his red-hot falchion in it.
Word verification: ancive. Means a small naturally marinaded fish in Galician.
What ho, m'dear colonial whatsit. Followed yer link from No Good Boyo's blog-thingy. One sentence that had my eyes popping out of what remains of my head:
"what my ancestors wished for me, in that Czech/Norwegian/Dane/Scot/Irish/Swiss..."
Good grief - so you're the result of that wild office party at the European Parliament....
Word verifiation: bonistri - an Esperanto greeting reserved for transvestite midgets
I love being inside on a cold, windy day with a good book, a blanket, and the t.v. in the background. I love margaritas, too. They are great if you get cabin fever.
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