I See!

I went to see Dr. Cataract today and guess what ... I can see! He worked his magic with the laser and now

The sky is brilliant blue!!!!!
The trees have leaves!!!!
The street signs have words!!!
Faces have noses!!
The television has HD!
The Hub has flecks of gold in his eyes.

The windows are dirty.
The corners have cobwebs..
My hair color needs retouching...
My skin color is splotchy....
My face has more than a couple of lines .....

Oh.

I see.

Prepare for Impact

Well, that was fun.

Rubi was impacted. No, she was not suffering from impacted wisdom teeth nor was she particularly impacted by the current economic downturn.

No, it was an impaction that required a gloved finger, a good grip and a strong stomach.

She is feeling much better now, thank you.

As for me, I think I may be impacted from this event. Permanently.

So, wow.

So, wow. The women's locker room at the gym.

Disclaimer Number One: I rarely frequent the women's locker room. I have a pee-before at home and pee-afterwards at home policy.

Disclaimer Number Two: This blog post may contain material upsetting to anyone-with-common-sense or good taste. Reader discretion is advised. But now you've got to know.

Disclaimer Number Three: For the last time, I do not make this stuff up. How could I?

So, wow. The women's locker room at the gym.

The locker room is full of activity today, meaning there are lots of ladies in various stages of naked. And in various stages of fitness. Mostly not-so-fit. Seinfeld once had an episode which discussed "good naked" and "bad naked". And although I'm sorry to burst the bubble of my male reader, the women's locker room is an example of "bad naked".

Very bad. Really very bad.

I keep my eyes straight ahead. Well, mostly. It's very hard when naked people are walking around or stooping or toweling. It's a little like a train wreck, I guess, except worse.

So, wow.

I finish my business and go to wash my hands--eyes straight ahead. Things are going okay (relatively) until the time comes to dry my hands.

In the past, I have seen women use the hand dryers to blow-dry their hair. Naked, of course. They turn the nozzles up and flip their hair around. Yeah, other body parts are sort of jibbling and jinkering about. It's unsavory.

Today, however, a woman is standing there, naked, of course. But no hair drying. She is hefting her, um, bosom in the air and drying underneath. Underneath the bosom, yes.

To make matters worse, she sees me standing there, trying not to gape, hands dripping. She kindly turns the nozzle toward me. Standing there with one hand on her, er, bosom and the other on the streaming nozzle of air she says, "Would you like to dry your hands?'

So, wow.

LOL is a Crock

I am seriously over 'LOL'. I actually never really believed a word of it. I mean, really. How often does something make one 'laugh out loud'? Sure, something might make one smile a bit (SAB) or something might make one 'emit a giggle' (EAG) or even engage in a 'cock of the head eyebrow raised amused nod' (COTH-ERAN).

But laughing? Out loud? It's pretty rare, at least for highly evolved senses of humor like mine. And it usually involves video of old people falling down (why is that funny?) or models careening off the catwalk. Good stuff indeed.

Perhaps it's just the element of surprise that I enjoy. Maybe I'm a genius or something (maybe?), but I usually see where jokes are going before hearing a punch line and so I end up nodding and weakly smiling.

Which reminds me of the time a nephew of mine was telling lame 8 year-old jokes. I raised my eyebrows and weakly smiled and said things like, "hey, that's funny" or "you tell good jokes" or "is there something pointed nearby so I can poke my eyeballs out?" He finally wrinkled his nose at me because I didn't laugh uproariously--like his mother.

Warning: Do not laugh uproaroiously at your children's jokes. Such a practice is bound to lead to disappointed children and irritated adults.

Note: It would have been way funnier to watch him fall down.

So, I find myself pleasantly surprised this morning to LOL at a comic strip. Granted, I did not engage in a sustained episode of LOLing, but nonetheless, I LOLed. So, I wish to share the object of my Laughing. Out. Loud.


Now I need to know. Did you LOL? SAB? COTH-ERAN? Or something else altogether, like 'you have a sick sense of humor, missy' (YHASSOHM)? My inquiring mind wants to know. So let your comments rip!

Do You Hear What I Hear?

I fear that my cataract is growing. Rapidly. No, it didn't spread to the other eye. I believe that my cataract outgrew the relative confines of my eye and has spread to my ear. Yes, my ear. How else to explain the most strange things that I am hearing lately?

It must be the cataract.

For example, I heard on the Rachael Ray show that, in a nod to the 80's, shoulder pads are back. Shoulder pads. I obligingly wore those wretched things 25 years ago and I am done looking like a linebacker. I even think I heard the fashion guru say that shoulder pads will add curves to my straight figure. Well, maybe, if I stuff them with kleenex and stick them on my chest, if you know what I mean.

It must be the cataract.

I was in stall number two in Target on Friday night when I overheard a strange conversation. First of all, bathroom stall-to-stall chatting is kind of freaky, unless it's Daughter and I, in which case it's usually hilarious. But this is the conversation I SWEAR I heard unless, of course, it was the cataract.

Girl: You know how when you drink like, a lot, and like, you hold your pee and like, as long as you hold it you don't get drunk?

Other Girl: Uh, yeah.

Girl: And you know, like, how weird it is when you like, can't hold it anymore and as soon as you pee, it's like you're totally drunk and like, acting all crazy?

Other Girl: Uh, yeah.

Girl: Don't you hate that?

Other Girl: We gotta hold it longer next time.

Seriously, it must be the cataract.

Either that, or the world has really gone to pot. The pot.

Do You See What I See?

I finally have an appointment with my ophthalmologist to take a look at my cataract. It's a pretty simple fix at this point, he says. The Doctor will gaze into my eye(s) and zap it with a laser, because I already have a replacement lens and apparently, my said lens is impervious to a laser.

Hey! Does that make me a SuperHero? Hmmmn. Picture a Lady with big old glasses fighting policemen with those over-active radar guns trying to catch the speeders. Oops. My bad. Radars. Not lasers. There goes my SuperHero potential.

I think it may be interesting and informative to allow my reader(s) to understand more about a cataract. A cataract is a cloudy area in the eye, which basically means that things look wacky or blurry or crazy. Essentially, this, except worse:


I am getting bored thinking about my cataract. I want to be thinking about other things. Relating to vision, of course. I'm sticking with a theme here.

So I wonder. What do dogs see? I've heard all the stuff about red-green confusion and better night vision and whatever. Probably not true anyhow, but how do the dog scientists REALLY know what dogs see?

I will ask Rubi what she sees. "Rubi, what do you see?"

Hmmmn. She ran to the front door and barked.

The internets says that dogs see this:

What dog sees this? A dog at a doggy amusement park? And I don't think the doggy on the left is even real.

Sadly, Daughter's dog sees this:


If this needs more explanation, click here.

I've been contemplating other visual abstractions as well, but I'm getting bored again. I need a jello.

I'm out.

Twenty-Seven is a Drop in the Bucket

Twenty-seven years ago The Trophy Wife was born. Now, don't get your panties all in a bunch. I'm not claiming to be 27 years old. Those days have long since passed. But twenty-seven years ago, I became just that--a Wife! I didn't come to fully appreciate the 'Trophy' part until later, but that doesn't mean that The Trophy Wife hasn't always been a part of me.

Twenty-seven years ago today Hub and I promised to love each other forever, through thick and thin and everything in between. In some ways, we were really lucky. We were young, poor and naive which is ultimately way better than being old, poor and knowledgeable. We just didn't realize that our life was hard. Hub worked full-time and went to school full-time (for nine years!) while I worked and produced two gorgeous kids and tried to make our meager little life into something grand, something delightful.

We saved our leftover change until we had a buck and then walked downtown, kids in strollers, to share an ice cream cone. We went for nature walks every night after dinner and caught pollywogs and captured caterpillars so we could watch them turn into butterflies. We played ball and danced on the lawn until the sun set and the crickets sang.

And somewhere in the middle of changing diapers and teaching piano lessons and reading bedtime stories, a Trophy Wife began to emerge. Little inklings of my inner trophy became apparent--laughing became easier, friends became more meaningful, family meant even more.

Which brings me back to September 18. The day it all began. The day it all continues. And gratefully, a day that never need end.

Happy Anniversary to me!