Chilly, wet and dark here

All the more reason to mentally escape - right now - to this hammock.

Waiting

Monday afternoon I waited for one hour in my rheumatologist's waiting room ... no Mr. Toto or other odd creature sightings, unfortunately.

I then spent another hour waiting in the exam room.

I nearly napped on the exam table but I have an aversion to those things, so instead spent another hour in an institutional chair. The magazines were old and mostly Better Homes and Gardens types so no good mindless distractions to be had.

I did notice however that the fluorescent lighting, large mirror and sink in the exam room would be perfect, if I only had a pair of tweezers to shape my brows and pull out a few gray hairs.

But I didn't.

So instead I scribbled some ideas for my next short story submission, made a mental note of a few brow hairs to pluck at home in my non-fluorescent lighted bathroom, and chatted on my cell.

And then my doctor came in, uttered a thousand apologies (her partner wasn't there and thus she had twice the number of appointments), checked me out and off I went for another four months. . .

Bowling, bowling, bowling ...

So today I took two nieces and two nephews - ages 8 to 15 - bowling.

One nephew sports a black eye, another a sprained ankle - both from junior high football.

My oldest niece has a t-shirt with a rubber band fastening it taut at the waist. The youngest niece sports pig tails and fills the air with chit chat as her teenage siblings (try to) play it cool.

It's funny how it starts out all mannerly - please, thank you, helping the little sister bowl - to little taunts here and there. Changing a name on the scoreboard above the lane to "gidygidywah hah" or "butt munch."

They're good kids, really. I wouldn't tackle all four at one time (without reinforcements) if they weren't.

On the drive back to their home, after 4 games, they get a little more rowdy.

The eldest dons the parental role from the shotgun seat as the three youngest - two of which are tall lanky teens/pre teens - are in the back seat. The boys look a little smashed in the back of my coupe - not too comfortable for growing adolescents. Perhaps that's part of the reason they're gently bullying their litle sister on the ride home.

As we head towards their subdivision they tell me they've moved. Didn't I know? Just turn here instead. You're going the wrong way, to the wrong house. They all gang up on me and become a team with one goal ...

I don't buy it one bit.

I am flattered. Afterall, this teasing is a sign of approval, of inclusion.