This will be more of a diary entry than a creative endeavor.
The anesthesiologist for my wife’s epidural today shared the last name of a man that serves or served on the Philmont Ranch Committee. It’s neither a common nor obscure last name, but you like to make small talk when a man’s jamming a needle into you wife, so I asked. No relation as far as he know. But he did share an anecdote about meeting a man with the same name I asked about at a rental car place. Turned out since they had the same last name they’d tried to get into the same car. This random guy was a CEO of a company in Illinois. I look my guy up on the web. Two pages later I uncover that my guy used to be a CEO of a company in Illinois. Same guy.
I doubt Facebook can match that kind of serendipity.
On the way in to the hospital I thought about every pregnant woman in a movie or on TV and how it’s always a frantic race. How nearly each time, some cop is involved to escort them to the hospital as if a woman even needs a hospital. It was funny to me how the reality of a birth is never what you see on the screen. From the drive in to the screaming and cursing the husband’s name to the beautiful pink child it’s not how it is. Not even close.
Our Doc got pulled over by the police for speeding on her way back. He let her off.