Tuesday, May 17, 2011


As I squinted at the sun through the car window this morning, I could feel a sneeze building in my chest. I was eventually overpowered and grimly gripped the steering wheel while trying to keep at least one eye open. Are you supposed to steer into a sneeze?
When my father sneezed he sounded like he was yelling, "Russia, Russia." You could hear him across town. My mother, on the other hand, has become a legend in her own time for her genteel sneeze. "Ahhh, ahh, uhhh. Ahhhh, ahh, uhh," she begins like a ritual. "Ahh chew who." She has endured a good bit of mocking from family for her technique.
I tend to sneeze in batches of three or four.
"If you sneeze three times it means you need sugar," my coworker advised.
"What?" I croaked incredulously. "That's all I've been eating."
A coworker once told me, to my delight, that I had a sexy sneeze.
I'm sure she meant to say that my sneeze was feminine, but the English language can be elusive to those not born with it.
Who says sneezing is a near death experience? It can apparently be a mating call.

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