|A picture I took in France while walking the walls of Aigues- Mortes|
O.K. Here’s an odd topic for a blog: going to the bathroom. Recently, my cousin and I have been corresponding about our family, filling each other in on all the stuff the other one never knew. I wrote to him about the few things I remember about our grandfather, and it’s really not too much. Then this morning I remembered a little thing about him: he always went to the bathroom before he left anywhere. Wanted to be sure, I suppose, by 'using the facilities' one more time. I recall that one day on our way to somewhere, after I’d hit the bathroom on the way out, my mother saying to me that I was just like her father who always did the same thing. I suppose I should be proud. One never knows.