Yesterday I went to the local dialysis clinic to see my Kidneyologist. It was just a followup to check on a diagnosis I received many years ago about my kidneys and how they were behaving badly at that time. I had teeny, microscopic little bits of blood in my urine and it was deemed to be a bad thing. So, I’ve been taking blood pressure meds for the last 15 years, or so, to help deter the blood leakage.

Sadly, the meds don’t help with urine leakage but I don’t mind. Diane might, but I don’t.

My kidney guy is Dr. Smiley and I really liked him. He sent me to the lab for a urine test which I passed with flying colors. I didn’t spill even one drop! I was directed to place it on a table in the lab, which I did, but not before getting the attention of the young lady who gave me the bottle and those directions. When she noticed me, I held up the little bottle, said “cheers,” put it down and walked off. She nodded knowingly.

Thinking about urine makes me wonder how pretty much everyone in the world knows that it’s very salty. Why is that?

Next, I’d like to address all of you who find it necessary to drive in the fast lane, all the time. In Oregon there is an un-enforced law that everyone must drive to the right unless they are going to pass. Lots of people don’t do that, of course, and in our small corner of the world it poses a problem.

Highway 30 is a nice 4-lane road all the way from Portland thru Columbia City. That’s about a 30 mile stretch of road on to which many, many people must make a left turn in order to get where they wish to go. There’s a chicken lane in the middle that helps facilitate the turn, but the fast lane drivers create a situation where left turners must stop and wait for an opening. Most of the time the slow lane is open, no one in it, but these folks just don’t see a need to move over, to be a courteous driver, allowing left turners to merge. Nope, they just edge a little closer to the chicken lane as if daring drivers to edge into “their” lane.

I bring that up because it happened this evening. This time it was a large, gray-fuzzy-haired woman, but we’ve seen all kinds. Mostly, they are young, and don’t care. Diane and I always drive right to ensure we don’t impede those who need to turn. But, then, we’re special.

Those of you who live in high density areas may not see the problem since you have divided highways and traffic lights for cross roads all over the place. That’s not true, here. Much of that 30 mile stretch is through  countryside, past farms and such. So, it’s a crap shoot to make a left turn. Sometimes it’s pretty exciting, especially when you’re the passenger, as I always am, and prone to be at the point of first contact should a collision occur.

Jack and Wynette know exactly what I mean. In order to access Highway 30 coming from their house, the traffic gods must all be in accord to afford them an opportunity to cross both the southbound and northbound lanes. Actually, it’s eastbound and westbound, but when you look at a map it’s really north and south. It doesn’t really turn west until you get to Rainier.

OK. That’s all I’ve got. Now I must go eat the weenie Diane heated up for me. In the microwave. I got soup, too.