Sneeze into your arm, not your hand. Wash your hands before, during, after. Use antibacterial lotions when you can't wash. And by the way, don't do any of this too much, or else you'll become more susceptible to MRSA and other drug-resistant illnesses. AAAGH! I'm glad I somehow managed to reach adulthood without knowing all of this. Even better, I raised two sons in germ illiteracy, and neither of them was sickly. My sister-in-law is a germ freak, and both of her sons were sickly all the time. On one hand, I don't like dirty. I don't like to be dirty myself, and I don't like for my house to be dirty. But messy--well, that's no problem. I just don't want organic materials sitting about in a state of decomposition (although technically, that's happening all over, as our skin cells shed, etc.).
The morning tv programs are into their usual cold-and-flu season health warnings. If they aren't dramatically orating about the negative effects of fat, they're warning about germs. What if fat prevented germs? Maybe that's why my slender husband is still fighting this snotty head cold, and I'm still fine. As much as I love his mustache and beard, I do find myself hesitant to go near the man when mucus gets involved with facial hair. No kisses. Just hugs. Quick hugs.
He seemed to sleep well last night--no major coughing attacks--but he's really groggy this morning. He should have stayed in bed when I got up, but he didn't. School starts back for him next Monday, so he's trying to get himself into a routine. Why should he care about morning routine? He teaches afternoon classes. He could sleep until noon every day and still get to work on time. As much as I love the man, I actually like getting up first and having that little while of quiet time alone. But the only way I could make him stay in bed would be if I duct-taped him into the sheets.
Speaking of duct tape--what a smooth segue, eh?--I was at Walgreen's the other day, and this woman was fingering a roll of hot-pink duct tape. She herself was wearing all pink, so perhaps she was thinking of accessorizing. She muttered to herself, "What will they think of next?" so of course, I had to respond. Turns out she has a totally pink bedroom and bathroom (such a surprise!). She added, "My grandkids think I'm nuts." That tickled me, so I told her, "That must mean you're doing something right!" After all, why bother being a grandparent if you can't be somewhat eccentric and fun?
Not that I'll ever find out what being a grandparent feels like. Neither son and wife seems in any big hurry to enter the world of parenting. That's okay. No one should be rushed. Still, yesterday's newspaper had a section featuring photos of babies born in 2007, and not only was I intrigued by the names of these little folks, but I was also looking at the faces, thinking, "If S and H had a baby, this is what it would look like." It's kind of hard to imagine which gene pool would dominate. There's my huge son--only 6 feet 5 inches tall--with his slightly curly brown hair, his big blue eyes, his ultra-dry skin, his relatively small mouth and large teeth. And then there's his wife, who is 5 feet 2 or 3 inches tall, with shiny straight dark hair, big brown eyes, wide mouth, a gap between her two front teeth, and silky skin.
Younger son and wife don't look quite so different from each other. D is 6 feet tall, but W is also tallish, maybe 5 feet 6 or 8 inches. D has blond wavy hair, green eyes, and good skin. W has reddish-brown straight hair, good skin, and light colored eyes. (Blue? Green? Why don't I remember?) One feature that she has that might affect a baby's appearance is her nose. We all have somewhat chubby noses. Hers is slender, aquiline.
Of course, any grandchild would be beautiful and welcome. But that's not in the cards for the near future. Still, this is a new year. Maybe 2008 will end with an addition to the family.
Uh-oh. I gotta stop that. I know better than to plan for the future. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was pondering the tenth anniversary of my blood clot. As I lay in the hospital in December 1997, I wondered whether I would live to see another ten years--or even ten weeks! And here I am. My left leg is still quite a bit larger around than my right leg, and it's still discolored. It still hurts, and I still sleep with it elevated. But in general, if I need to walk, I can walk. I'm in relatively good health, considering. And I think of Amanda, my niece who was killed in December 1993 when she was only 11 1/2 years old. Just when we think we can plan for the future, we learn the hard way that the best-laid plans of mice and men will go astray. The greatest pain in my sister's voice is when she talks about what might have been--how she'd imagined what a beautiful bride Amanda would have been, only to have her child die before she'd even had a first date.
Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. Right, John Lennon? Dr. S.
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