Ill at the Quill

"Health and happiness mutually beget each other."

Addison - The Spectator No. 387

We're back but I returned to the Quill a little ill. I have been suffering from some symptoms that have strangely come and gone for about three months now. What do you know, the wicked little malady decided to rear her ugly head the last day of our little jaunt! We came home early Sunday morning and thought we were going to end the lovely weekend with a high note of a trip to the ER, which thankfully we were able to avoid. This morning I went to the doctor with full blown symptoms and am in the process of treatment. Evidently I am having an allergic reaction to ????? who knows what.

Good Dr. B., (I started to use the good doctors first and last initials but giggled when I realized that they are B.M. and did no think them distinguished enough for the title, but funny none the less, or maybe it is just more of my tipsy sense of humor!) knowing I am a writer and love unusual pens gave me a new one for my collection, I have named her Eppi. She is a temperamental and prickly little thing, her style is to get right to the point but she means no harm. Her job is counteract that which is negative so I guess I'll keep her close by for a while yet. I am however hoping that dear little Eppi will be able to retire after extensive allergy testing in the next few weeks and that she will be nothing but a lovely little memory.

Dr. B. did not want little Eppi to be lonely so he introduced me to BIG Eppi and her friend Mr. Decadron at his office and for good measure he sent home one neatly packed little army, and two nice full brown bottles of back up. The only thing is that these little protectors come with some whimsical ways. I took them as directed and then laid down to rest until time to cook dinner, so far so good. Well, dinner prep was a hoot. My poor hubby was a little frightened at what result the inebriating effects might have on dinner(I think he was just having flashbacks of our early days of marriage when proudly placed before him was the most delectable plate of southern fried chicken into which he promptly bit and the chicken clucked!, it was raw on the inside, I had cooked it too fast).

Now I am a tea-totaling Southern girl and have never been tipsy a day in my life but this had to come close. I DID listen carefully when the pharmacist told me not to drive and that because of the little cocktail I would be woozy. I distinctly heard the driving part but not the cooking part so I thought I'd give it a go. The whole time hubby was doing his very best trying to discourage me and I look him in the eye and say, "Hey, you never know, this could be my best meal yet!" He looked real doubtful and hovered a lot. Well, I almost made it through the foggy thinking, literally floating around the kitchen, and suddenly having ten thumbs, (yep, I counted 'em, not a a finger in the bunch!). For the first time I could not multi-task, I had to really concentrate in order to cook, this should have been a clue that I was impaired but I am a persistent little thing so I plunged head. And I almost made it until I gave a whole new meaning to the Galloping Gourmet!

No major mishaps and hubby is leaning on the counter beginning to relax, looks like he won't have to eat raw anything tonight so he thinks it is OK to leave the kitchen to the tipsy cook, BIG MISTAKE,that's when the fire started. At first I thought what was in the oven was burning, I peeked in, nope, everything in there looked fine. So I lift the lids on the pots, nope, all is well but what is that burnt smell? I dismiss it thinking something must have gotten on the burner coil, so I set the timer and wobble my way back to the couch where I sink down in relief. The smell intensifies, daughter comes out of her room, hubby appears from his office area, and even the dog gets in on the act, jumps from her bed and starts sniffing the air.

Now here is a cooking tip: Never ever lay a wooden spoon partially on the stove(touching the burner) and partially on the counter on a dishtowel (which is touching the edge of the stove near hot burner and smoldering wooden spoon) the result will be a fire. I popped my head up over the back of the couch only to see a burst of flame to which I yelped, "FIRE!" Well, let me tell you that I sobered up pretty quickly and literally galloped to the kitchen colliding with the above mentioned family members who did not want to miss out on the action. I scooped up the towel and spoon and tossed them in the sink dousing them with a blast from the faucet. The fire out, dinner saved, house aired, and me sent to time out, all was well and ended well. Hubby gave me a list of things I am not allowed to do until the little army had done its job. I am wondering how I can make this apply to laundry, so far I am not grounded from the washer and dryer( yet hee hee!).

(NOTE: Never operate this piece of equipment while under prescribed medication that heavily mimics symptoms of inebriation!)

All this said to ask for your prayers for healing (oh, and you might mention this typing thing also, typing tipsy is quite the task, thank goodness for spell check, for kicks I almost left all the errors just to let you try and decipher my post but they were so numerous that it just got embarrassing, so correct them I did.) I may be slow posting until I get my sea legs but I will try my best. Wishing you and yours happiness and health.

Woozily Yours,
Sandy B.

Photos: 1. a vintage get well card from my collection, 2. my kitchen stove