Flu. If that word is heard instead of read, you might think we’re about to discuss a bird in flight, or an airplane taking you on vacation, or time passing by while you enjoy yourself immensely on that vacation. Not even close.
I came down with the flu Wednesday, right about the time church was about to start. I had to come home, which means I missed out on our KRoc kids leading worship. 🙁 Three days later, I’m still not over it, and I’ve now coughed the calorie equivalent of six 2-hour Zumba classes. And my throat is sad about that.
Fortunately, I have a home remedy for this very situation. So I’m sipping that healing tea right now, and already getting a little relief.
This seems like a good time to show you my recent find, since it figures in the recipe. Last year, I picked up a honey jar to stick in the bee man‘s Christmas stocking. But then a month ago, somebody broke the jar while transporting it back home after showing the ladies at Home Skills Fellowship how to make a honey-mustard salad dressing. The investigation continues.
I was all set to drive back down to the Marysville Co-op (probably my favorite “store” in the world … I love everything about that place. That will have to wait for another post, when I have more energy) and plunk down another $11.99 for another jar. But we put ourselves on a strict budget about three months ago, and the days of just running down to the store are over. I have to think about these things before I take money out of its designated envelope. So I was looking at that jar and thinking about how often Dave dips into it and wondering what I should do. And then it dawned on me. I didn’t need a whole new set; I really only needed a new jar.
I took the dipper down to the thrift store and started browsing. Ten minutes in, I had only knocked one thing off the shelf — a big glass vase, behind which a tiny, just-the right-size jar was hiding. (Sorry again, man with the broom). But once that vase was gone (literally) and I could see behind it, I had my jar. And it only set me back twenty cents.
Don’t you love a good ending to a heart-thumping story? Yeah, me too.
Back to bed for me …