The crew has recovered from the flu. There is a little lingering cough, and we are still watching the A.B., who had the worst case of it, but he seems to be okay. Everyone's good, except me. It is lonely to be sick after everyone else gets better.
I am employing a combination of my family's most trusted methods of recovery for this flu.
Method 1 (the Admiral's method): Ignore it. Keep working. Sweat it off. Take Airborne. Get Over it.
Method 2 (the crew's method) : Collapse somewhere and wait for someone to bring you pudding or soup or vitamin c drops. I don't like soup though, so they usually don't bring me any of that.
Method 3 (the Commodore's method) Take that stuff that starts with an O. Rest. Megadose on vitamin c. Drink orange juice.
Besides these things though, isn't laughter the best medicine? On the off chance that it works, here are a few things that make me laugh.
Rudolph Nuryev dancing with Miss Piggy.
The Commodore stranded herself by locking her keys in her car.
The Boy: Where's Mom?
Me: In the Rite Aid Parking lot.
The Boy: Yeah, but where's the right parking lot?
We never did find the key that would unstrand the Commodore. Instead, we sent her the A.B. He has long, skinny arms. The back window of the Y.S. is broken. It can be pushed down a little, with very little trouble, but only a person with long skinny arms can get in. We know this because the Commodore is terrible with keys. Two years ago, we locked the keys in the car in the St. Louis Zoo parking lot. The Commodore pried the window open, and the A.B. unlocked the door. When we got to the hotel that night, I found the spare key in my pocket.
Which reminds me of the time that the door of Tallulah jammed in Arkansas. We assumed that since the door wouldn't open, we had locked it. We had one set of keys with us, but the other was inside. I had had some trouble with the keys that we had, so we figured it just wouldn't work. The window was open, because the dog was inside, so all we had to do was push back the screen and hoist the Boy in. HA! The bottom of the window is six feet in the air. Then the Boy couldn't get the door open. So we put the A.B. in, but he couldn't get it either. Finally someone just pulled really hard on the handle and it opened. After that, we learned that if you slam the door, it jams.
I think I feel better already.