EYES -- I'm a little tired and rubbing my eyes. With my eyes closed, of course. Which brings up the interesting question, why doesn't it bother me to rub my eyes, with some pressure, with my eyes closed, but if I had them open, I wouldn't allow myself to touch them? The eye lids are touching them. And it doesn't seem to bother them.
There's two of them. I've never had to have a patch and nothing's ever gone terribly wrong with either one.
I don't usually think of the eyes as being all that strong. One, we blink all the time if someone puts their hands close. Two, even the tiniest speck makes them hurt like heck. They have a jelly-kind of look, like they'd be very easy to mash. I hope I never have to find out. They're certainly strong enough to do their job if you don't mess with them.
I'm definitely glad I've got them. I believe I'm on the transplant program -- I'm sure I am -- so maybe someday someone else will be using them. That's an interesting thought.
A bicycle built for two, things on the same switch, tandem, a man juggling two grapefruit.
NOSE -- Back in the old days, back when people cared about stuff like this, people used to say I had the family nose. But now that all the grandparents are dead, and dad, too, and a whole new generation has arisen that doesn't care about family noses, no one ever says it anymore. But I still think about it. When I see my nose in the mirror, to me it's the family nose, and somehow I got it!
Other than the family resemblance, it's a nose like any other. I used to get more pimples on it than I do now. Although I actually had one the other day, right up where my nose meets the rest of my face, on the left side. But it didn't act like a normal pimple, I picked at it, and now it's more or less gone. I also used to get a lot of dirty pores way back when. I haven't checked them lately. For some reason, with age it doesn't bother me like it used to.
As for what the nose does, it's the conduit picking up scent information and conveying that to my brain. Occasionally, my nose (or brain) is out of whack and I have olfactory hallucinations. I don't have them at the current time, but once in a while I'll pick up a whiff that I'm sure I'm reading wrong. If olfactory hallucinations is a disease or a sign of something worse wrong, at least it's one that I find halfway pleasant. Really.
Accessibility, leads elsewhere, place of consideration, some weeds to whack, more than one exit.
THROAT -- I was looking on Google Pictures today for a good picture of the throat. Let me warn you: DON'T! Not unless you want to see some dirty pictures, things you don't see when looking up pictures for eyes and the nose. The throat, like it or not, is now an erogenous zone, suggestive of the official sex organ where things go for reproductive purposes.
Anyway, the throat leads downward, carrying food and beverage to the stomach and intestinal realms down below. It also serves as the path for bringing things up, if need be. And we've all been there and done that! The throat has some tricky things to accomplish, knowing which direction to send breathed-in air and which direction to send food. When it gets screwed up, that's when we cough, which is also a good function in the throat.
It's like a customs booth, knowing what's allowed in and where it should go. And it's like a hat check and coat check place, putting things where they go. It reminds me of a dispatch officer, taking the calls and sending officers where they need to be.
The throat has a magnificent gag reflex built in too, that knows automatically that food hitting it is OK, but it goes berserk if it's someone's fingers or a foreign instrument. I had that yesterday when the suction tube at the dentist went too far down.
Lumps, breezy place, way station, checking goods in, dispatching, expelling, hacking, reflexive, swallows flying south.
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