Feelin' mighty low

This past Sunday was probably the most low-key football Sunday ever. Probably because I was feeling pretty low -- with a stomach virus. Welcome to back-to-school time. When whatever germ is rolling around the classroom will be coming to your home soon.

Man! I spent Saturday in bed, feeling pretty much like who-did-it-and-ran. And the one thing about being too sick to move is, you end up watching commercials because you just can't be bothered changing the channel. One commercial started to stand out. It was for an insurance company, and I must have seen it five times--two guys on a roof with a rope tying them together. The one guy apparently needs to repair the siding, I'm guessing, and he's going to rappel down the side of the house while the weight of the other guy keeps him from plunging to the ground. He jumps, they both go flying off the roof, and one guy does a swan dive into a tree.

By the third time I saw it, I was thinking, "The one guy really looks like he's going into the tree." On the fourth viewing, I'm waiting to see him go into the tree again, thinking, "Is he REALLY going into the tree, or is he going behind it?" On the fifth viewing, I'm thinking, "Did they use dummies or CGI to make it look like the guy really went into the tree? Because it REALLY looks like he went into the tree."

And this is what happens when you're sick to your stomach. Your head aches, your back aches. Of course your stomach aches. The fever kicks in and then -- you get crazy thoughts going in your head about the making of insurance company commercials.

Normally, I never even watch TV before 9 p.m. And what I DO watch is TiVo'd, so I skip the commercials. Therefore, I submit the following theorem: A stomach virus was planted in our school district by the New York ad industry in a dastardly plot to get everyone so sick all they can do is mindlessly watch TV, and NOT change channels. (But seriously, it looked like a REAL GUY flying into a tree.)

So, Sunday afternoon, I was feeling a bit better, and I decided to take Cara to the high school track -- so SHE could run and get in shape for soccer. Nothing like pushing somebody else to exercise. I felt like a head coach. She gave me three laps and announced that it was too hot (is 86 degrees too hot -- when you're a kid!) and too muggy (I kind of thought it was residual illness that was making my breathing labored) to go any further. I told her to walk a lap to bring down her heart rate safely. She circled the team bench and crabbed, "Let's go!" Which led to my big lecture about health, exercise, and cooling down properly. To which she replied, "Turn up the air conditioning!"

Ryan, meanwhile had been at a buddy's house. I called the friend's house to say Cara would be coming over to walk him back home. The dad said he was about to take them all to a park to play soccer--and Cara was welcome. "I'll go!," she says. Enthusiastically! Huh!? She runs to their house but was back in five minutes, with Ryan.

"It's too gross out there to play soccer," he crabs.

"Can you believe him!? He doesn't want to play. You're crazy," Cara says to him, and takes off.

Cut to me, slackjawed, "...And I thought the insurance company musings were crazy."

...Week two...done!

--Catherine Schetting Salfino