Hospital Waiting Rooms
So, sitting in a hospital waiting room as my father-in-law, a really entertaining and very good man has heart surgery. Knowing that there are prayers to be said, and saying them in spurts as I listen to my wife and sister-in-laws talk, and talk, and talk, and talk...more and more talk.
And having a few laughs as I sit back and wait for my moment to heckle. One wise-ass comment after another.
Because that is why I am here.
I'm certainly not here to listen to their banter about their hair and what color their toenails are. I swear to God there was a spine-tingling conversation about pedicures that had me dizzy by the time it reached a conclusion that sounded a lot like the beginning of the discussion.
Come on, guys, how much time have you spent considering the length, and/or color of your toenails? For me, if they don't cut a hole in my sock, I honestly don't think about them.
And hair? I must admit that ship has sailed, but the discussion on how I want what I have left to look like consists of the moment when I sit in the chair at the shop and tell the girl, 'cut it off, you can't screw it up.'
So, this morning I am reminded of the fundamental differences between men and women, and it is absolutely mind-boggling that we can even get along a little bit. While the toenail conversation was in full force I was thinking of the Yankee pitching staff, my inability to chip a golf ball, what I was going to eat over the weekend, my upcoming fantasy baseball season, and how much I missed being at work.
And don't even get me started on the cheerleaders who tried hard to ruin the basketball game that Matt was playing in last night. Whoever developed the concept of cheerleaders should have thought of the 'no singing or talking' rule that I was contemplating as I watched them.
And they wonder why we need the heart operations first!
To my father-in-law...heal fast...I need someone to talk about the important things at the next family gathering...and be thankful that you were under as I looked at all of your daughters toenails.
And having a few laughs as I sit back and wait for my moment to heckle. One wise-ass comment after another.
Because that is why I am here.
I'm certainly not here to listen to their banter about their hair and what color their toenails are. I swear to God there was a spine-tingling conversation about pedicures that had me dizzy by the time it reached a conclusion that sounded a lot like the beginning of the discussion.
Come on, guys, how much time have you spent considering the length, and/or color of your toenails? For me, if they don't cut a hole in my sock, I honestly don't think about them.
And hair? I must admit that ship has sailed, but the discussion on how I want what I have left to look like consists of the moment when I sit in the chair at the shop and tell the girl, 'cut it off, you can't screw it up.'
So, this morning I am reminded of the fundamental differences between men and women, and it is absolutely mind-boggling that we can even get along a little bit. While the toenail conversation was in full force I was thinking of the Yankee pitching staff, my inability to chip a golf ball, what I was going to eat over the weekend, my upcoming fantasy baseball season, and how much I missed being at work.
And don't even get me started on the cheerleaders who tried hard to ruin the basketball game that Matt was playing in last night. Whoever developed the concept of cheerleaders should have thought of the 'no singing or talking' rule that I was contemplating as I watched them.
And they wonder why we need the heart operations first!
To my father-in-law...heal fast...I need someone to talk about the important things at the next family gathering...and be thankful that you were under as I looked at all of your daughters toenails.
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