A day to knit - and the farm-witch's guide to loving sick people

There's nothing really exciting going on, here. Well, I guess that depends on if you want excitement of the 'oh, this is so fun' kind or excitement of the 'what the hell is happening to me?' kind. If you are (sick) a person who hungers for the latter, bring some Bailey's Irish Creme and come on over. Things 1,2, and 3, despite all my vitamin C drops and thorough handwashings, have cought the little bug that has been circulating around our environs. I shouldn't complain. In exception of the bug we caught (net, anyone?) at the onset of winter, we've managed to avert many of the 'communal' ickies this winter. Still, they are needing a nursemaid and guess who is on the job? I have finally come to realize that taking care of sick people is only as hard as you make it. When you are foolishl applying all the preferences you know that person has when they are not sick and miserable and whiny - you are literally asking for grief.

It's kinda like when you have children. You have Thing 1 - things go reasonably well and after a couple of years, you figure you at least know enough to have thing 2 and help him or her to survive infancy. You find out how little you learned the first time around when this creature does not sleep through the night at 6 wks old, but nurses EVERY TWO STINKING HOURS for a full year - until your bags under your eyes nearly droop all the way to your Ms. Parton boobs and, then, abruptly, on his first birthday, he grabs some food out of his father's hand and NEVER nurses again. Ice pack, anyone? You get my point (absent the whining, of course). So, the trick is two-fold: 1. YOu must walk into the room (every time) of a sick person with a mind-wipe of gargantuant proportions. You don't really know this person at all. You don't know that they don't like melted cheese - you wait apprehensively to (and this is part 2, by the way) LISTEN to their every word. First the 'this is where it all hurts and why aren't you able to solve all my misery' and then the 'this is what I want you to do to make it up to me that you are not the miracle healer of colds' After the speech is over, you must get to it right away. Oh, didn't I mention - it is during the listening time that knitting is most helpful. To clear your mind, to help you concentrate, to pull you out of 'holy sh*t' panic mode, and to keep you still so they feel relieved of all their strife. Then, peanut butter cookies usually satisfy them all - chocolate chips optional but strongly encouraged.

PLEASE FORGIVE ANY ERRORS OF THE TYPOGHRAPHICAL NATURE AS I HAVE HAD A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF SLEEP AND AM IN THE PROCESS OF BAKING TO SHUT THESE PEOPLE UP SATISFY MY DARLINGS.