I am sick. Not some terrible need-an-emergency-room kind of sick, but sick enough to stay in my pajamas for 3 days. I did what people who are sick do. I laid in bed and flipped through the channels. I wonder if I would have recovered faster if I hadn’t observed so many commercials where the mucous family moves into someone’s sinuses. I do think that little commercial where Drew Brees rolls over in bed and conks out as they say, “Cold symptoms tackled, quarterback sacked,” is clever. It’s short. It’s to the point. You get the message.
I don’t usually take any medicine if I have a cold, but I rarely get a cold. And certainly not one that lands me in bed for three days. If I am sick, I take it as a sign that I need to stop doing and just rest for a while. Maybe listen for a message. Make some tea from the spice thyme and breathe in the steam with a towel on my head. (This tip comes from herbalist Stacey Quade. www.energyforlifeconnection.com)
Watching tv while being sick, falling asleep during one show, waking up in the middle of the next, made me realize how the shows are really pretty much all the same anyway. Someone is victimized by being murdered or by some terrible illness and the show takes us through finding the killer or the culprit. If I was watching Bones or House or Castle. I could fall asleep during one, wake up during another and it didn’t really matter. Some of the characters are interesting. I wonder why the shows have one-word titles and the characters are given nouns as names.
And sometimes in my blurry, sneezy head I was just hearing things incorrectly. I would register, “No More Dairy Family,” and wonder if I’d stumbled over to a health and wellness show on PBS, only to find that it was actually an ad for the show, “No Ordinary Family.”
I did get to see the show where Oprah finds out she has a half-sister, who was put up for adoption as a baby because their mother did not have the means to keep her. Although Oprah welcomed Patricia, the “new” sister, with open arms, it was not the most endearing welcome with their mother, who had flat out refused to see Patricia twice before. But even from the chilly reception, Patricia pulled the good out of it. She noticed when her birth mother said that nurse at the hospital said, “How can you give up such a pretty baby?” saying no one had ever told her before that she was a pretty baby. And she ignored that her mother actually gave her up, preferring to focus on the fact that after she left her at the hospital without the baby, she came back in search of her later, but the baby was already gone. Patricia seems to be a person tuned toward finding the good in any situation. She could probably be sick for three days and find something good to say about tv. And there’s probably also a lot of good to be found, going from being a single mother to finding out you are Oprah Winfrey’s sister.
So I daydreamed about whose long lost sister I might be. Maybe I am Ellen Degeneres’ sister. A little kid in line at a grocery store once told me I look like her. Maybe Mama couldn’t afford both of us, so she selected the one she thought would have a better chance of being a Cover Girl and having her own talk show. I like the Ellen Show, because she’s funny and keeps me current with relevant popular culture, for example because of her I know who Drew Brees is. That little commercial probably wouldn’t make any sense if I thought he was a violinst or a plumber. But since I wasn’t adopted and bear a physical resemblance to my Dad, I’m probably stuck with the sisters I already have or maybe they are stuck with me. Unless of course, my Dad had a fling with Mama. It could have happened. Maybe my Mom just fabricated that story around my birth of going home from the New Year’s party to take down the Christmas tree because she was going into labor and she didn’t want Dad to have to worry about putting away the Christmas decorations. She could have faked the whole pregnancy. I’ve seen it done on tv, with a pillow. Maybe I actually arrived in a little crate from New Orleans through the US Postal Service. Or maybe it was a sturdy cardboard box with holes punched in it. Thank Goddess we have Federal Express now.
Tonight on tv we have Glee and the State of the Union Address. That thing of falling asleep during one program and waking up during another probably isn’t going to hold weight, although it might make the State of the Union Address more interesting if the Congress broke out into song and there was a big Broadway number, including dancing across the aisles.
I am ready now to put the remote down and get back to life, if only that mucous family would pack their things and go.