I just wrote a blog about how I'm sick and blah blah blah WHO CARES? I'm not going to bore you with my aches and pains. Instead I will share with you a not so fond memory from my childhood.
In town to celebrate Thanksgiving and my birthday, my grandparents were staying with us for a few days. The family was seated at the table for dinner, a day or two before Turkey Day. I was probably about 7-years-old.
A tall glass of red Kool-Aid and a plate of ham sat before me. I took one bite of the ham and pushed it away.
"It's too salty!" I exclaimed in disgust.
"It is not. Now eat your dinner," either my mom or dad insisted.
"No... it's gross! I can't eat it."
"Just drink your Kool-Aid and take a few more bites."
Begrudgingly, I was obedient. I swallowed the Kool-Aid and ate a few small bites of the ham.
"I don't feel so good..."
Okay, the details get a little bit fuzzy here. But the image of Kool-Aid-colored vomit is still quite vivid in my memory.
It was probably just a coincidence, but I blame that flu--which knocked me out of commission for my birthday and Thanksgiving--on that damn ham, and indirectly on my parents for making me eat it, of course.
That flu was quite a doozy. I couldn't keep down anything. Any. Thing. In fact, it was during that very flu that I first experienced the joys that are suppositories. You want to hear a kid scream bloody murder? Suppositories are the way to go.