Before I left for New York, my son Heath had a bad cold—the kind that starts with a sore throat, then morphs into a stuffy nose…and lingers for weeks. So, when my plane touched down at LaGuardia and I felt the start of a scratchy throat, I knew what I was in for. Two days later, as I circled Central Park for the Shape Half Marathon, I was drugged up on DayQuil and sucking on Chloraseptic lozenges. The morning after the race, I headed out for meetings armed with a wad of tissues. Yuck. Thus, I was grateful when I met up with my friend Jaime, a beauty publicist, for lunch, and she slid Farmacy’s Honey Savior across the table to me.