Doctor's Visit

I was getting ready this afternoon to go see my Grandma. I was going to be helping my Mom take her to the doctor's. I was having something to eat in the kitchen, when my sister yelled across the house that Tracey was coming.
"Tracey?" What the hell?
Let me explain: Tracey is one of my Mom's friends. I have mixed feelings on her, but it's unusual she would just come to our house without my Mom being home.
Turns out she was there to get me. And, of course, I wasn't ready. Damn. Tracey was coming to get me because the three cars my family owns were either out, or in one case, on reserve for my sister who was going to use one to get herself to class. (She's taking summer classes.)
I was planning on doing a lot more to get ready (like, you know, brushing my hair), but I didn't want to keep Tracey waiting. Seems rude, since she was doing me a favor.
One of the things I hate about riding in cars with people like that is that I always struggle to make conversation. With one of my friends, it's easy, because we can't get enough of each other. Someone like Tracey, a real adult, who is way older than me and has daughters slightly younger than I, is a totally different game. It's not like talking to Kelly, where we can giggle about how stupid certain other students are, or Paul or Tony, where I can talk to those two about anything.
I went with talking about MSU, since her younger daughter is starting there in the fall. I told her about how much I liked the floor right above where she would be living.
Tracey talked to me about something I had heard of but haven't really looked into much. Her eldest daughter is at U of M, and she was complaining that there were all sort of hard drugs there. Mandy had discussed it to me, but I was never sure how widespread it was. I have friends at or who were once at U of M, and none of them ever talked about it. Of course, they're very hard working, straight-laced people. It's hard to imagine them doing blow off a frat boy's stomach.
The good news is, Tracey thinks that MSU is actually not much of a party school. Truth.
So we took my Grandma to the doctor's. It was mostly fine, but my Grandma was being more annoying than normal. My Grandma kept asking where we were going and why. She really hates going to the doctor. I don't know why. Worst thing that happens is that she gets her arm squeezed when they measure her blood pressure.
I judge waiting rooms by the magazines they have. I'm looking for something good, like Time, Newsweek, National Geographic, Wired. There are lots of other magazines I like to read, but I'm lucky if a waiting room has the first two, let alone something like Mother Jones or The Economist. Best I could find at this waiting room was Elle. Ugh. I'll take it.