I think it was Thursday afternoon when my non-specific seasonal malady began to include a cough. And, true to form, by Friday morning I sounded like an octogenarian named Hazel who’s had a three pack a day habit for the last sixty years.
I’ll tell you about Hazel. She’s from the old school and doesn’t cotton to newfangled treatments like multi-symptom cold medicines. Hazel likes to sit on her front porch and throw bricks at cars that drive by too fast. Hazel doesn’t think there’s a problem with America that can’t be fixed by taking your youngsters out to the woodshed to learn ’em some manners and human decency. Hazel thinks this whole world has been on the fast track to hell since the Roosevelt administration. Hazel sits around and pops Luden’s cherry cough drops like they’re candy.
(On a sidenote, I was typing in a few things from the weekend into the Note section on my phone because, yes, sometimes I actually have specific thoughts I want to share. And I typed in “Hazel” and began to type “Luden’s cherry cough drops” and it auto-checked it and changed it to “Ludendorff”. So it looked like I was planning to write about a woman named Hazel Ludendorff.)
(And so I am.)
Hazel Ludendorff is my new persona whenever I’m feeling under the weather. Because Hazel is a tough old bird and she can withstand anything even though she’s not one to miss an opportunity to enjoy her ill health. Hazel likes nothing more than to guilt a neighbor into delivering some homemade chicken noodle soup.
Anyway, in spite of Hazel’s attempts to hack up a lung, it was a good weekend around here.
On Friday night, we had some friends over for a little party for P’s birthday. I made a big batch of crawfish etouffee’ and a chocolate sheet cake at the birthday boy’s request. Although, let’s be honest, he’s more of a birthday man than a birthday boy at this point.
Then on Saturday, the Cheetah Girls had a big game against the Wildcats. And I’m happy to report they played the game of their lives. They were running and paying attention and kicking the ball ALL AT THE SAME TIME. It was a great game.
I left the soccer fields feeling joyously optimistic, which is so unlike Hazel, and convinced that the Aggies were going to soundly defeat the Arkansas Razorbacks. I believed. I BELIEVED. And then I spent the next four hours watching my hopes and dreams get smashed to bits by an offense that didn’t seem to realize the object of the game is to get the ball in the endzone.
As soon as the game was over, Caroline and I headed down to the ranch to meet up with P and spend the night. It was a quick trip, but I was glad we did it, if for no other reason than the sunset on the way down there was incredible. Just that perfect shade of orange and deep purplish-blue with a little sliver of a moon coming up.
And then we drove back home on Sunday afternoon. I crawled into bed and slept for about four hours while P ran interference to make sure Caroline didn’t wake me up to ask me what color I thought God should have made the sky if it wasn’t already blue. I was hoping to leave Hazel Ludendorff behind by the time I woke up. But no such luck.
Hazel is still with me. Which means I’ll most likely be spending Columbus Day the way Columbus and his crew wish they could have spent it back in 1492. At a med clinic being treated for scurvy.
Except I don’t think I have scurvy.
But I might have a touch of the bronchitis. Or maybe it’s just Hazel’s rheumatism acting up again.