Melinda Morley

Flu season people.

In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all dying of the swine flu. Triple the numbers which were skewed before and now they’re even more skewed. (Wow, that took me three tries to type skewed. Strange things are happening in my head. Or should I say, stranger things.)

Not that we’ve been diagnosed and okay only two of us here are sick. And you don’t usually vomit with the swine flu.

But, it sounds so much more exciting than to say:

I have the “Seasonal Flu.” It makes it sound mamby pamby like “Morning Sickness,” even though it’s not. It takes you down at the knees and makes you beg for mercy or at least some ginger ale on ice. Now if you tell people you have H1N1, then you may get some sympathy. Maybe even a “I hope you don’t die” or “Can I have your computer if you die” comment and that is a much more interesting discussion. You find out who your friends are. (My kids are all fighting over who gets my laptop. None of them, I say! I’m taking it with me to the grave.)

And why did I make chicken enchillada soup for dinner? Because if there is something that I don’t want to puke up, it’s chicken enchilada soup.

Cowboy said it was the best soup he’d had in years, possibly EVER.

It was soooo good. Will it be as remarkable the second time around?

Let’s not find out, shall we?

I don’t think I’ll puke, but I can’t think, and I can’t type which is as good a time as any to go write my book. It could be highly entertaining to see what my delerious unspeelling mind can come up with.

I let you know how it goes….