- I enjoyed a particular talk at church yesterday. When I walked up to the stand to thank the speaker I extended my hand and said, "Thanks so much for your talk, I needed to hear that and it meant a lot to me." I saw the two other speakers in the meeting right behind the one I had thanked. Did I need to thank them as well? And if I did not, would I seem ungrateful for their words?
- Sometimes I feel there is a specific mood at church that lingers in every meeting. Yesterday it was a general gloom. Maybe it was the rain outside. Maybe it was the late afternoon and we were all adjusting to new meeting times. I just wanted to stand up and say, "it's not that bad of a life." And maybe it was just me that needed to hear it.
- When I'm turning left from the median of a busy road, I think it should be against the law for opposing traffic in the lane next to the median to yield. The far lane of opposing traffic never seems to catch on quickly enough. But you hate to wave to the good Samaritan who stopped in the near lane and mouth to him: "THANKS, DON'T WORRY, JUST GO AHEAD," while you wave him on. That just seems rude. So under forced gratitude, I always turn left. It's the "white-knuckle" turn of possible death.
- Tucson was re-baptized today. It rained all morning and in the afternoon the clouds cleared. Anna and I drove up to the sweetwater trail head and watched the unfolding of the sunset. The air was clear and crisp. The clouds were huge, with dark undersides and cottony-white tops. The mountains were lavender, sage, purple, red, rust, and blue all at once. And the desert smelled like desert, with the saguaros standing proud over their domain. To top it off, the desert doves were singing the tune of nightfall. Sometimes I hate scenery like this because all I can think about is how it will all be gone in a few minutes.
- The other day at a tumor board meeting in the hospital, a physician was introducing a patient case.
"The patient was a woman. Fairly...rotund."
The pause he gave between "fairly" and "rotund" was more insulting than if he had just said "fat." I committed at that point to use the word "fat" when I present patients who are well-nourished, no stranger to the knife and fork, obese, large, or rotund. "Fat" is the most concise, understandable, and efficient adjective and is also, in my opinion, the least condescending. Plus, I need more of it...