I enjoy watching, for the most part, the ABC comedy show, The Middle, because it often reminds me of the home I grew up in. It makes me laugh and that's a good thing, especially since I've been wretchedly sick this week. A virus entered our home through the boy, who doesn't want to be mentioned in my blog, and traveled to my husband and now to me. It seems to be one of the perils of living in close confines in this low-ceilinged house under the weeping willow tree. When I was a child with six siblings it was rather amazing how fast a virus could travel. My mother would lay us out on the different sofas, chairs, and makeshift beds in the living room so she could keep an eye on us, now that she was the family nurse. Our kindly doctor, not wanting her to bring seven sick children into his waiting room, would make a house call. I still remember the scabies episode that required my mother to give us several baths a day. complete with application of ointment and fresh clothes. It's a good thing Mom was young and healthy. . . and that she loved us. Tonight I am reminded of the old hymn , "Blest Be the Tie That Binds." I wish more current artists would sing it, because it's a song I've always loved. There's nothing like standing shoulder to shoulder in a church pew with voices raised in thanksgiving. Here's a version from YouTube.