With a title like this, I wish I were being clever and writing some kind of lively blog post about how the Christmas holiday is an energizing shot in the arm, a boost of brightness in an otherwise dark and dreary North American winter, blah, blah, blah. Instead I’m here to whine about a cold.
Seriously, I haven’t had a cold in about 10 years. Because at the first sign of a sniffle or a tickle of a sore throat, I start popping over-the-counter probiotics like they are peanuts at the ballpark. If you’ve been in my vicinity over these last 10 years, I have surely lectured you about my magical cure and I have tsked tsked anyone who did not listen and therefore developed a severe cold because of wanton disregard of my “medical” advice.
Well this time, no amount of probiotics or vitamin C or ginger tea or hot toddies or straight-up whisky shots — don’t judge, I was desperate- was going to slow this cold down.
While Cindy was safely in Ohio, outside of the cone of infection, I struggled through the festivities, high on fresh oranges and pineapple and Vic’s VapoRub.
How sick was I, you ask? So sick that I didn’t cut a single square of red fabric, nor did I sew a pair of red 1.5″ squares together — that is until this evening. After 5 days of sniffles and lethargy, interspersed with whining and a side of fever, I finally felt well enough to cut a few more squares and to begin the daunting task of sewing together 3.5K squares together for my postage stamp quilt.
There’s only one magical cure of quilting fever: I must put my foot to the pedal, with no thought of germ infested airplanes or fellow gym members who don’t stay home when they are sick. I’m sewing away, but don’t worry, I’m saving my curative evening hot toddy for after I finish sewing for the night.