Do You See What I See?

Yesterday, I drove my mother to have her cataract surgery at the nearest facility that her HMO allows--in Redmond, WA right near the massive Microsoft campus. She wound up not getting it done after all. No details needed, suffice to say that her mind and body were not cooperating and it will all be tried again in or around February. She is well today; more frustrating for her than anything else.

Being trapped in the Overlake area of the Eastside in the middle of the day on a Tuesday has reminded what a completely different world it is during that time. Killing time among strip malls and chain restaurants isn't really my biggest desire in life and taking the opportunity for holiday shopping seemed the best idea at the time. The nearest "big" stores to the hospital were Fred Meyer and Sears, both of which got the majority of my shopping dollar on this day. It was really rather creepy, I have to say, wandering throughout these buildings in the sedative, slowed-down environment that dominates at 10:30 a.m. on a workday. Lots of retired folks (presumed) and either unemployed or those people shopping in the window of time that either precedes a swingshift of sits at the end of a long graveyard shift. Throughout it all, I think the most maddening thing was that, whether I was in Sears, the local thrift store, Safeway or Red Robin, there seemed to be no shortage of bad, contemporary verisons of old Christmas songs whining over the loudspeakers. How many "it girls" of the moment can cover "Santa Baby" or country western crooners can strum out "Do You Hear What I Hear?" I've never been a big Bing Crosby fan, but I started to yearn for him like a long-lost lover by 12:20 in the afternoon.