Survival of the Fittest

Real Myths possibly is the best category for this work.   Cleanliness is next to Godliness or germiness is next to the deviliness.  Are any germs good?  I watched a commentary last night on Swine Flu.  When it was over I  began to think differently, not because of the commentaries, but because I began perceiving something quite the contrary. Swine live close to the dirt.  Are the swine carriers or filters? Provided, of course, you roast them with sufficient heat.  Is the child eating dirt (not uncommon) going to grow the healthier in spite of a good case of  dirt worms?

For days on end with five children and ten grandchildren, I have heard myself say, until I said it in my sleep, “Don’t eat your buggers.” Now I read that the child is ingesting the germs of the air and transposing them into natural antibodies.  Is this true, or did some parent or grandparent just get tired of the bugger sentence and make up a better way?  I have one granddaughter we need to bottle.  She could heal the planet.  She is a self contained antibiotic.

Recently, I realized I had forgotten what buggers tasted like.  I did not have a long drawn out bugger eating phase because my mother would punctuate her own “Don’t eat your buggers” with a resounding whack about the ears, which, by the way, could be the cause of my late life buzzing/ringing ears.  But that is another story.

So, I ate one of my own buggers.  Yup! I did!  It was very salty.  What does that say?  Salt hurts like hell on an open sore or whiplash wounds, but we know that salt heals. It is possible that which is gross also heals.  Too much of a good thing can kill a human; salt, Valium, Viagra, martinis and yes, even chocolate.  Variety and all things in moderation is the oldest common sense rule on our planet.  Teaching my granddaughter not to eat her buggers could in fact harm her.

I am going to think on this a while, go shopping and make the dry-cleaning drop, where I will not think a second thought about whom or what wore or sneezed upon the garment now tumbling around with my garments in the commercial communal tub. 

Now, everyone is sneezing into the bend of their elbow.  It’s the new polite thing to do. I will never again take the arm of a gallant gentleman’s offer.  Well, with the exception of my husband, whose buggers I am quite familiar with after all these years of extremely close contact positioning.

I am off to the grocery, where all the raw meat and produce are packed in germ free saran-wrap. That is except the new and improved more costly free range and organic fed or harvested food.  All these items lay out in the open, as unashamed as a Jamaica nudest beach.  In some stores saran-wrap is called handi-wrap, which makes me wonder which side of the handi-wrap were the hands upon during the sanitary wrapping procedure.  Oh, yes, how could I so quickly forget?  The store employees are instructed to sneeze into that crook in their elbow.  Yeah, right!  More on this later, gotta go.

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