There is an Italian way of cooking chicken called, "Pollo al Mattone," (mattone is a heavy tile), or more popularly called in the United States, "Chicken Under a Brick." According to a 2008 NY Times article, this method of cooking also has Russian roots. That fact, I was unaware of, but I have seen a heavy skillet or brick or some sort of weight placed on top of a split chicken to weigh it down in the skillet or on a grill in order to increase the surface area of the chicken and give its skin a crispier searing than traditional cooking methods. It's delicious, to be sure, but that's not what I want to talk about.
We just had our busiest week at work, fall payment due for college classes. During these times we--literally--wait on over a thousand people, many of whom are sick, and we hand papers and pens and credit cards back and forth. Sure enough, Friday I started feeling sick (really Thursday). Saturday I managed in the morning to get my shots of "yellow" photos, but I felt weak. My family was supposed to go out of town, but we only made it as far as a local restaurant. Last night and today, I spiraled down, down until I was at Walmart FastCare again. What is happening to me?
Allergies. Allergies from beyond. The doctor was concerned--um, very. She said they were raging out of control, my nostils were worse than swollen, they were small slits barely open. I left with 6 prescriptions. I know no one wants to read about someone's sickness. It's boring, and I've been sick a lot this year. Never--regarding lung capacity--have I felt so near death.
So here you have it, Lungs Under a Brick. Some sweet lady sitting next to me asked if I were o.k. She was on a day trip and had lost her blood pressure pills. She said she would pray for me; the kindness of strangers, non è giusto? (Isn't that right/the truth?) I was so grateful. Other friends saw me and said I would be alright. I'm sure I will be as soon as I can get rid of this brick and struggle for breath. I don't know how I wrote or drew this today.