Yeah, yeah, it’s just a cold
This picture has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m about to write. It’s simply a ploy to lure you in to the bout of whining in which I am about to engage. My apologies, but…
…do not tell the children, these adorable trusting veggie-munching children, that I’ve been bad. Really bad. I’m talking impure thoughts. I mean really not natural. Not organic at all. As in the idea of picking up another massive delivery of fresh veggies and bountiful fruit that insists on being sliced and sautéed and chopped and canned has got me a bit bent. Seriously? I’ve already got a fridge full of enormous cabbage heads and pathetic parsnips and so help me I swear if I see another bag of string beans I’ll tie those lanky things together and wrap them noose-like around this killer sore throat of mine.
Don’t mind me, I’m just a little peeved because I’ve got a cold. Not just any cold. I’ve got this miserable, long-lasting, super-power bug that I caught back during the French Revolution. Or sometime long ago in an era far away where mere mortals were ruled by microscopic thugs bent on snot production. It’s not pretty.
So you’ll forgive me if I am too busy wiping my nose to get out to the garden these days. I did make it to Target though, to apply for a special security check to access the locked-down stash of Sudafed at the pharmacy aka Ft. Knox. And since we were there already, I told Acadia that after I got my fix we could head over to pick out her birthday piñata and corresponding loot.
Now, being a greener Biener of course I have a brilliant brown-bag, tofu-toting, eco-solution to the quandary that is a piñata. Unfortunately that earth-friendly answer is lying unconscious beneath the layers of cold-medicine-induced fog in my brain. At least I loaded all those plastic bobbles and individually wrapped nuggets of high fructose corn syrup into my canvas bag at check out.
Aarrrggh, I’m spiraling downward faster than Alice in the rabbit hole. I’ve given up hope that I’ll ever breathe through this useless appendage squatting between my eyes and my mouth again. The only hope, the only thing hanging out there that might possibly turn things around and get me back to hugging some trees is the harvest festival at the farm this weekend. Surely a day of crisp blue skies, fresh apple cider and hay rides can knock that eco-sense back into me.
If not, woe is me, this Biener’s a goner. I’m going to have to start blogging at Nyquil and Nachos dot com.