Cure Whatever Ails You

I know that you are all on the edge of your loungers (please don’t tip over) just DYING to hear all about Queretaro and our work assignments. I promise you will.  But first, breaking news.

My dear friend Sally came down with a killer cold a few days ago.  Not to be outdone, I decided I wanted one of those too.  So, here we be, dos Amigas in need of a cure.   

Ginny from Worcester (pronounced Woos-TAH) heard me coughing and sneezing.  She insisted that we IMMEDIATELY adopt her fool proof cure.  She guaranteed that a hot toddy would get Sally and me on the road to recovery.  (Or was that alcoholism?  I forget.  One of those.  Or both.) So what if it is only 10 AM?  

Being an obedient Catholic school girl, and wanting to protect the rest of the group from our germs, I immediately sprang into action.  Despite being somewhat competitive, even I had to admit Sally won the sickness award.  So off I went to the market.  My sweet young fruit seller was glad to see me, despite my tiny order of only two lemons.  I normally am good for a couple of kilos of bananas.  He pointed me in the right direction for miel (Spanish for honey.)

Past the CDs and stuffed animals, beyond the floral displays, beyond the fruit and boots.

NUMEROUS Mexicans stopped what they were doing to help me.  What a gracious, welcoming culture!  
I left with lemons, honey and a bottle of what my Grammy would call medicine, except she pronounced it “med-SIN”).   My black medical bag was now complete.

Take a look.  The white plastic bag contained a cup half full of honey, scooped  from a huge barrel.  The big cup was from Woolworths.  (They are getting to know me there. The cashier that kissed me last time asked me in English “you sick”?) 

Did our “med-SIN” work?  Well, take a look at Sally and you tell me. 

We are feelin’ no pain!