So, for the past week or so, Grammy, Papa, and I have been a little sickly. We only use the word "sickly" when we're talking about our poor health. I'm not sure why. Anyway, I've had a cold all week (Papa says it's because I go off with my friends every weekend instead of resting. He tells me: "Weekends are for resting, so you're ready to go back to work on Monday." I guess since he found out that I actually do have friends, he doesn't think I should leave every weekend.)
One day this week, I came home and found Grammy preparing her Honey Sick Tea in bulk. She had a huge bowl of her tea mixture, some freshly squeezed lemon juice and some honey and mixed us both a mug of it right away. Magic. I was making a thank you card while we drank tea with this card scrapbooking kit my mom got me for Christmas. I'm not very good at making cards because I always just stick random things on them, hoping they will be perfect, but they seldom are. Rachel got a card scrapbooking kit, too, and every card she makes is perfect. Just like every ice cream sundae she makes. When we both still lived at home and had ice cream for after school snack, Logan and I would finish our ice cream sundaes, and Rachel would still be at the counter making designs with her chocolate syrup or individually arranging the sprinkles. She's makes everything perfect. Like Grammy. Grammy and Rachel are almost identical. While I was making my thank you card, Grammy came over and sat down and told me she was just going to watch me and my creativity. I told her I'm not very good at making cards and that if Rachel were here, she would make a beautiful masterpiece of a thank you card. Grammy said: "Well, it might be beautiful, but I bet it would take her forever. I know about making things perfect and that means I never finish anything, like with my knitting and my quilting."
Grammy thought my card was beautiful.
Grammy has had a little cold, too, so she's been Snuffing a lot. One night, I was telling Papa how I was sickly, and he told me I should use some of this special nose spray he has:
Papa: I'll go get it. It will clear you right up!
Julie: Is it better than Grammy's Snuff?
Papa: Oh yes, it's way better than Snuff.
Julie: I don't know if I believe you.
Papa: Here, you take it and stick it really far up your nostril, then you squeeze it really hard and suck it up. You have to make sure you squeeze it hard enough to feel it drip down your throat.
Ew. I hate having things up my nose. Not that I often have to shove things in my nostrils, but the thought of purposefully inhaling a liquid kind of disgusts me. But I tried it anyway because I knew Papa would make me try it eventually. I went to the bathroom and did one nostril (feeling the cold saline spray run down my throat) and then Papa came over and watched me do the second nostril. When I was done, he said: "Wait, you have to do both nostrils!" I told him I already did it and he missed it. I don't think he believed me. After I sucked saline solution up my nose, I asked Papa if I could blow my nose because it was stuffy and dripping. He told me I couldn't and I should have blown my nose before I inhaled saline.
After rehab that night, Grammy and I went to WalMart because Grammy wanted to stock up on cold medicine, too; I mean, who knows how long we'll be sick! It could be forever! We went to the pharmacy section and read every single box of cold medicine, to make sure we were getting the best ones. In the end, we bought same kinds we always get anyway. Whenever I go to WalMart with Papa, he makes me go to the pharmacy section and help him pick out some cold syrup. He tells me that the syrup works better than the pills because it tastes so bad. I tell him they are the same but he doesn't believe me.
I've been sleeping a lot this week, too. Grammy thinks it is a good thing that I sleep a lot because it means I'm recovering. Whenever I tell Papa I'm going to bed, though, he looks at his watch and says: "You're going to bed already?! You must have worked hard today!" I tell him I always work hard. Every day when I come home from work, Papa asks me if I had a good day at work and I always say yes and he says: "Well you must have a great job if you always have a great day." I do.