so i’ve been fighting a bad case of the summer sniffles (ugh) since sunday and let me tell you, it’s no bueno. so much for that good immune system. anyway, i’ve been existing on a diet of ricola drops, day quil, soup, and lemon water and not only am i hungry but i’m also just really ready to be able to breathe out of my nose again. i’m also being extremely whiny. and maybe slightly dramatic. but i don’t tend to get sick very often (knocks on wood), so when i do, it’s like the whole world stops. because let’s be honest, being sick is just so… inconvenient. and for someone who lives and dies by her google calendar, unaccounted for germs always seem to throw a monkey wrench into the equation.
truthfully, this whole hating being sick thing is nothing new. even as a kid, i was so averse to taking sick days, i would literally plead my mom to let me go to school. seriously. i was that kid. “what if i miss the lesson plan? what if that material is on the test?” in fact, the only way i’d agree to being quarantined was if my mom agreed to go to school to gather my missed worksheets and respective books.
however, there was one thing i looked forward to on those “under the weather” days. actually, two things.
a bisquick biscuit and grease.
without fail, every sick day i stayed home from school my mom would whip up a giant bisquick biscuit (these being the pre-gluten-free days), which i would then slather with copious amounts of butter and jam, and we’d rent grease on vhs from the local library. we eventually purchased our own copy because we hated running the risk that someone else in san diego had the same sick day ritual and the movie wouldn’t be available to check-out that day. it was such a random ritual but one that i came to cherish so much.
and it’s those little memories, those silly seemingly insignificant habits we form almost accidentally that are the ones that stick out the most when we think back to our childhoods. getting sick this week took me right back to being eight years old, bundled on the couch in my jammies, hair in disarray, hoovering a biscuit dripping in strawberry jelly, as danny zuko and sandra dee canoodled on the bleachers in the background.
and while these days a biscuit would probably make me sick(er) and i don’t even own a VCR anymore, it’s still fun to pretend that a case of the sniffles equates to quality time with momma, a pastry, and the pink ladies.3