Did anyone get that?

As ever it is that one dips one's brain into the hot bubbly morass of feverish jumble, rhinos among us must still own a sense of obligation to expurgate the synapizationary verbosity into the ether of our common illusionary swamp of understanding our shared milieu.

While she never would have expressed it that way, that was the message I took in from my Piano Teacher Rosemary this morning, when she blurted out with full eye contact, "YOU HAVEN'T BLOGGED IN QUITE A WHILE!"

And it's true, I have not. Peggy and I have both been fighting this silly bug giving it back forth to each other, with neither one of us really ever getting out of bed for more than an hour a day. I suppose I should have spent my hour in front of the computer. I would normally show you a picture of one or other of us at this juncture, but in this case I fear it would ruin any remnants of a relationship I still have with any of you.

So here's the deal with this bug? I'm tired of sweating, coughing, hacking, creeping to the loo, taking hot baths, cold baths, bundling up for hikes to the mailbox, ordering pizza delivery three times a day, having nothing taste good, and there is more.

(I intend to spare you MORE whether you wish IT or not.)

Bottom line is I just haven't felt like BLOGGING lately. And you know there is a certain wisdom that comes with age that can not be denied in this case. That wisdom is this: "Everything has already been said!"

In this case the words already said were once in the head of OGDEN NASH....I invite you to revisit:

"COMMON COLD."

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!

You shall not sneer at me.

Pick up your hat and stethoscope,

Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;

I contemplate a joy exquisite,

I'm not paying you for your visit. *

I did not call you to be told

My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;

by fevers hot and scaly grip;

By those two red redundant eyes

That weep like woeful April skies;

by racking snuffle, snort and sniff;

by handkerchief after handkerchief; **

this cold you wave away as naught

is the damnedest man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!

Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;

The Cold of which researchers dream,

The perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.

This honored system humbly holds

The Super-cold to end all colds;

The Cold Crusading for Democracy;

The Fuhrer of the Steptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals

Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,

But bred by scientist wise and hoary

In some Olympic laboratory;

Bacteria as large as mice,

With feet of fire and heads of ice

Who never interrupt for slumber

Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth.

Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;

Don Juan was a budding gallant,

And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;

The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,

And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.

Oh what a derision history holds.

For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds.

Ogden Nash

* YOUR VISIT: The rumors are true, doctors at one time came to YOU!

** HANDKERCHIEF: A square sturdy but light piece of cloth one would blow one's nose into and then shove into a one's back pocket or purse. It was typically good for about a week. It has since been replaced by something we call a box of "Kleenex."