After spending the past few days with my flu-ridden daughter, fighting 102 degree temperatures and projectile-sneezed snots, I suddenly got paranoid. Germophobed-out. I’ve been compulsively washing my hands…so in addition to the cold-weather dryness, my pale, wrinkled hands look like they belong to an 80-year-old. And right before Neptune’s bath time I chewed a full clove of raw garlic without gagging, chugged it down with a glass of water and am now contemplating an apple cider vinegar chaser. These are my flu remedies, in lieu of vitamin C and B complex, or a crate of clementines.
For myriad reasons, I cannot WAIT for Mexico.