Not for the faint of heart

My mind and my mood go in strange directions when my feet are up in stirrups. This morning I thought about:

--how, despite the elastic band that’s permanently around one of my wrists to get my hair out of my face, I’ve gotten whipped cream, mouthwash and pecan pie in my hair over the past week. Don’t tell me that my nipples are perky for a woman of my age unless you want me to spit mouthwash all over you. That’s just how I roll.
--I’m reading a book right now that’s all about the intricate workings of the female body and yet I didn’t know that there’s an area of the female anatomy called the vestibule. Is that where visitors are supposed to leave their coats and boots before entering the house? The things you can learn from the anatomical charts on the walls of a doctor’s office.
--Thank goodness some people know how to write about this stuff well because otherwise it’s so cold and clinical, or just bad.
--Why aren’t there more warming trays in the world?
--Why did the tradition of the red tent go out of style?
--Latin is pretty, especially when used in unexpected places.