Things I learned today ... from strangers:

I wasn't alone drinking barium sulfate. I met a man, and it was almost like *happy* hour. I don't know this person's name. I don't know what his CT scan is for or what lies ahead of him. I do know he's funny ... that he would rather see his "last ex-wife pole-dancing than have to drink the rest of this crap."

I wasn't alone in the CT room. I met the technician. She's never had a mammogram because she's only 35. She used to go to Texas Scottish Rite Hospital, like my son. When she was born, her fingers were webbed. They corrected it, and she liked going back because they have such interesting things to look at, and the popcorn, yes, she remembers the popcorn, and the jello from the cafeteria. She thought it was fun, kind of like my son does. Because we're lucky ... neither she nor my son (nor I) have ever been as sick as some of the other young patients that the hospital treats.

So I learned I'm not alone. And unlike the woman next to me also waiting for her mammo, I didn't have to stay for a sonogram after.

Perhaps focusing on today, being in the moment, living wholeheartedly there, in the moment today, resulted in me now reflecting on my blessings.

My mind on my pennies, pennies on my mind

Pennies.  Pennies are on my mind, and it's TB's fault ... or rather his credit.

He asked me ... If each day you were given 100 pennies, and you placed one in a pile for every good thing that happened, and one in a pile for every bad thing that happened? Well, don't you think you'd likely end up with more pennies in the good pile at the end of the day?

I was thinking about it when I started to get pissy about a few kinks in my afternoon ... and so I began mentally thinking of the "good" pennies I was blessed with earlier in the day ... like the one I got for secretly tickling my boy's left foot (in a photo I posted on another site), and the one I got for making him laugh ... or the one for being able to take him to the doc myself in the first place (with my mother accompanying us, as she always has for the past four years we've been getting him treatment).

There's also the one for his knee being awesomely healthy ... and of course for no bloodwork today, no medications. And it made me feel a whole lot better about the penny or two I had to put in the "bad" pile. I may have been a little less focused because, well, I just got finished hanging out with that kid who sneezed popcorn all over his shirt sleeve as we were leaving downtown ... and I may have had to fix a thing or two ... I may have typo'd, but caught it, fixed it. Add another penny in the good pile then.

Perspective is a gift, indeed.  Thank you, TB.

PS:  You KNOW you wish I had typo'd the title of this note.