My father has insisted - for my entire life and no doubt long before I appeared on the scene - that the cure for a sore throat is gargling with hot salt water.
[Gargle. Grimace. Splutter. Blech.]
Truth be told [Dad - don't read this part] I've never found that it has done any good at all, other than to leave me with the taste of sodium in my mouth for the rest of the day. When I was young, I viewed it as his litmus test to determine the degree to which I was *really* sick - hourly salt water torture versus going to school. Hmmmm....
Once I went to college - aha! Freedom! No more gargling for me, said I. I tried the varied and sundry over-the-counter meds, occasionally going to my doctor for some erithromycin when I couldn't shake it within a month, but a warm Morton's cocktail over the kitchen sink? Nope, not a chance.
But as I sit here making those pained squinty expressions whenever I swallow, I am weighing my options. Cup of Earl Grey and a Tylenol? Advil Cold & Sinus and chicken soup? Salt water gargle? Wait a minute...where did THAT come from? Does this just happen when one reaches a certain age - the parental advice takes on a different patina?
Of course there is Maura's remedy for colds, sore throats and general unwellness: a little bourbon and honey. She introduced me to that in Seattle a couple of years ago when I had a raging full-blown COLD complete with laryngitis, ear stoppage and throat filled with razor blades. Have to say, it did soothe the sore throat and let me sleep better. My doctor suggests that alcohol might not be good for a sore throat, but I figure that alcohol should help kill whatever little bugs are causing this right? Much better than, oh, gargling with salt water, one might rationalize. Perhaps I should test the two remedies and see what helps.
I went to Kisso in Olde City to get sushi for dinner last night. The sushi chefs are very nice and it's fun to sit at the counter and watch them make it. It amazes me that they still have any fingers left, given how they slice the fish. *Toward* their fingers. With very VERY sharp knives. If this were me there would be blood everywhere. Probably not good for business - sushi chef with gauze wrapped hands and a big thing of Band-aids on the counter.
I stopped by the warehouse this morning. They have installed the big (500+ lb) steel beam that forms the edge of the front deck overlooking the garden. Barry said it was a lot of fun putting it up. I sensed a tiny amount of sarcasm in his voice - go figure. They are working on framing the front wall of the den so that they can put the windows in and enclose the whole thing. My stipulation still holds: no heat until it is enclosed and insulated. It is about 40 degrees today and windy, so I'm betting this will encourage a speedy completion of said task.
The crew is having their "office party" tomorrow. Richard is taking everyone out for lunch, which I thought was a nice thing to do. I can't attend, but I contributed to the kitty for the festivites.
Tonight's project: cut the mats and frame the pictures I am giving as presents. Let's see....precise measurements, sharp blades, glass....perhaps I should go with the salt water remedy instead of the shot of Jack Daniels. Or not. The blood stains might help the recipients appreciate the effort.
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Quote du jour:
"I told you I was sick."
Erma Bombeck, on her tombstone
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