And so we continue through winter

Although the mornings are cold and frosty, the rain has stopped and the fog doesn’t seem to be taking over in the valley as I had thought it might. When I was a child, after the rains there came thick, dense, wet fog that often hung on all day. We would go weeks without seeing the sun in late December, early January. I was always so thankful when we turned the calendar page to February. The sun was usually shining and the days getting longer.

Winter, as you know if you have been around here for any time, is not my favorite time of the year. Being retired, it is a bit easier to take in that I don’t have to get out in the early dark cold mornings to drive through fog or rain. One morning a month I do leave early for a meeting with the school chaplains.

I was out a bit early on Tuesday to get my hair done. My hairdresser always sends me a text the day before to remind me and I quickly reply that I will be there. When I walked through the door, just a minute before 9 o’clock, she had already mixed my color. I laughed and said, “wow, you sure trust me to be on time.” “oh, yes,” she replied, “you are my most prompt client, always on time.” She had her small heater running, right in front of the chair, knowing how I like to be warm. How can you not love a hairdresser like that!

Next week I have an early morning appointment at what I call “the booby hatch.” Time for a mammogram and bone density test, and for some reason the bone density person only works early mornings. Perhaps, like me, they do best in the early morning. That’s why I’m writing this post just past 7 a.m. My brain is sharp at this time of the day. Even when it’s cold and dark.

8 responses to “And so we continue through winter

  1. I suppose it might be surprising to say that we rarely have fog here. A friend used to call every morning and ask if it was foggy. She lived fifteen miles north of us, near a stretch of coast with frequent fog in summer. Gary likes to say that the climate shifts every six miles as you travel along the Oregon coast. The local hospital changes bone density machines frequently so I have given up being tested—the machines are not consistent and my four tests were each done on a different machine.

    • As with the last two bone density tests, I’m sure I will get a call from my doctor’s office with the admonition, “do not fall.”

      • Oh, yes, and my alarmist doctor (whom I hope never to see again) spent my previous two appointment telling I would be in a wheelchair and explaining how to fill out DNR forms. Delightful women. I have fallen, and hard, but only broke my little toe recently when I walked it into a table leg. Now that we are sometimes in Portland I will look for a better caregiver there.

  2. May your mammogram be totally unremarkable. Years ago a friend and I would go out for lunch after our mammograms–for “chicken breast sandwiches.” That lightened the necessary task!

    • Now that I am on Medicare I get the 3D imaging which is much easier to take than the other type. But, still, I don’t do this every year, more like every 3.

  3. I also hope your mammogram comes back completely unremarkable.

  4. I just scheduled my mammogram/bone density test for early February. I will be most interested to see if the measure put into place to prevent further bone disintegration have worked.

  5. fog is often here in my city – Auckland region is on a very narrow band of land and both the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea (attached to the Indian Ocean) hit it from both angles…we can have fog in parts until early arvo – any old season it seems…

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