Do doctor's offices consciously put you in an examining room to wait instead of the 'waiting' room? Why call it a 'waiting' room, when you can't even read the first paragraph of that magazine you've been wanting to get your hands on? Instead, they shuffle you off to a cold, sterile room with NO magazines (or heat) and leave you there for an eternity, clad in the equivalent of a large paper towel, trying to think warm thoughts. Maybe they figure you'll be less able to complain about the wait through chattering teeth?
It's amazing how often I function by rote. Twice, I have turned onto my mountain road without thinking - only to have to turn around and go the safe route. The mountain road itself is fairly clear, but the road down the mountain is now treacherous - accentuated by a fatal accident on Christmas Eve. My mind is often elsewhere (home way ahead of the physical me), or I am arguing with the radio. Time to tape on the seasonal notation to my dashboard: WINTER!! I'll tape it right next to my "BREATHE" note.
I may be enjoying winter a little more this year, thanks to Marianne. I say this, as I gaze at January's Men in Kilts.
Our family is a small one, and it recently got smaller. My uncle passed away on New Year's Eve. He had been ill for a long time, so it was a blessing of sorts, I suppose. Rest in peace, Big Daddy Uncle. It got me thinking about my cousins and how interesting it was that we are all spread out over the country, with little contact if any. I adore my aunt, my mother's sister, and have a very fond memory of the one and only time just the two of us spent together: my uncle was out of town and I was living on my own, I believe in my late 20s. My aunt invited me over for dinner - lamb chops! She loved them, but my uncle did not, so this was a special occasion. We had the best time! I spent the night and I awoke the next morning to her beautiful, melodic voice telling me to "rise and shine". She has the kind of voice you should bottle and open when you need comforting.
My other memory involving that side of the family was from way back. We were all over at their house when we were kids. While the adults were doing their adult things, the kids were in the family room poking around for something to do. Not surprisingly, I took charge - although my cousin was older by 15 minutes, I was the bossy one. My uncle was a golfer, something alien in our family, so I decided to investigate the anatomy of a golf ball. My cousin (who was reliable and trustworthy from birth, the rat) had a pen knife. I made him hand it over and I cut off the covering. Then I proceeded to start unwinding the rubber band ball. I am sure you can see where this is going. Never being known for my patience, I took the knife and sliced through the ball. And hit the pressurized liquid center, which exploded into my eyes. Which temporarily blinded me. Which sent all the cousins and my sisters screaming upstairs for reinforcements. There was much hysteria, except for my uncle, who calmly led me to the sink and rinsed my eyes. I was soundly punished and, if I remember it correctly, the self-same cousin (my age almost exactly - born on the same day, 15 minutes before me in another state - and there the similarities ended) spent quite a long time gloating. I believe he always held it against me that I would snap his plastic pants when we were tots just to torment him.