The end has come for my reign of wearing glasses. I’m returning to contacts. I finally set an eye appointment for Thursday after a four month delay.
I hate wearing glasses. Absolutely. Hate. It. My vision was just fine until fourth grade when the world became blurry. I had to get a pair of giant coke-bottles, and four-eyes became a common insult over the years. In 10th grade I discovered contacts and never looked back. I still kept a pair of glasses handy to rest my eyes as needed, but contacts were a constant in my world. If I went to sleep with contacts, I would wake up thinking my sight had returned.
Sure contacts had a downside. Wear them too long and you risk dry eyes or infections. They easily pop out if you barely rub your eyes. And the slightest scratch hurts like the dickens. The bad outweighed the good of glasses any day. I didn’t start wearing glasses on a regular again until about four years ago. Blame the working world. Long hours in front of the computer aren’t good for the eyes. I only wore glasses to rest my eyes at the end of the day.
A few months ago I only had one pair of contacts left. For some reason I kept putting off an eye appointment. I thought I would get to it before anything happened to that last pair. A scratch beat me to the punch. Now I’ve been stuck wearing glasses since March. This is a cruel and unusual self-inflicted punishment. Glasses make me look 10 years older, and I refuse to take pictures with them on. They are not a flattering look for me any way you put it. I do not look like a sexy librarian, teacher or whoever.
Enough was enough, so I finally made an appointment. I can’t wait to pop in my first pair of contacts in months. It will open up a whole new world of sight. Someone once told me I could just get Lasik and be rid of glasses and contacts forever. Lasers. On my eyes. No thank you. I’ll stick to contacts, and the occasional pair of glasses.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
fear of falling
I’ve got fears. Lots of them. Most are logical in my opinion. I don’t like clowns because I watched “Killer Klowns from Outer Space” and later read “It.” I’m now convinced clowns are the devil. Cabs make me nervous because there was a guy in Jacksonville killing girls in his taxi several years ago. I try to avoid riding them.
One of my biggest fears is falling in the shower. I can see it now. I get into the shower for a wonderful washing experience. Unbeknownst to me, there is an extra slippery spot in the tub. Right when I prepare to get out … KARPLUT! I slip and fall head first and bust open my skull. No one is home, and brain juices ooze for hours. By the time they find my body, it’s too late to save me. And then the world shall mourn. Gruesome little scene isn’t it? Well it could really happen, because I almost slip in the shower at least once every other month. I don’t really know how. It just always happens.
Nothing could replace this fear in the top 10 spot, or so I thought until IT happened Tuesday morning. I was enjoying a washing experience and dropped the soap. I bent down to reach it but came up yelling in pain. Somehow I managed to cut my shoulder on the shower door handle. Tears formed soon as I saw skin had been removed. In place of the brown, there was nothing but white, and soon it was turning red. Immediately I hopped out the shower, forgetting my fear of falling, and grabbed some peroxide and a Band-Aid. One top fear was replaced for another.
It’s been two days since that incident, but my shoulder still is tender from the cut. Lifting my arms causes a bit of pain these days. Now I get into the shower with fear and trembling. Not because I could fall. I’ve got bigger problems. I could cut myself. What if it’s a main artery and I slowly bleed to death? Just when you thought it was safe to take a shower, you realize it’s not. Maybe I should switch to safe little baths.
One of my biggest fears is falling in the shower. I can see it now. I get into the shower for a wonderful washing experience. Unbeknownst to me, there is an extra slippery spot in the tub. Right when I prepare to get out … KARPLUT! I slip and fall head first and bust open my skull. No one is home, and brain juices ooze for hours. By the time they find my body, it’s too late to save me. And then the world shall mourn. Gruesome little scene isn’t it? Well it could really happen, because I almost slip in the shower at least once every other month. I don’t really know how. It just always happens.
Nothing could replace this fear in the top 10 spot, or so I thought until IT happened Tuesday morning. I was enjoying a washing experience and dropped the soap. I bent down to reach it but came up yelling in pain. Somehow I managed to cut my shoulder on the shower door handle. Tears formed soon as I saw skin had been removed. In place of the brown, there was nothing but white, and soon it was turning red. Immediately I hopped out the shower, forgetting my fear of falling, and grabbed some peroxide and a Band-Aid. One top fear was replaced for another.
It’s been two days since that incident, but my shoulder still is tender from the cut. Lifting my arms causes a bit of pain these days. Now I get into the shower with fear and trembling. Not because I could fall. I’ve got bigger problems. I could cut myself. What if it’s a main artery and I slowly bleed to death? Just when you thought it was safe to take a shower, you realize it’s not. Maybe I should switch to safe little baths.
Friday, July 8, 2011
the last to know
No one tells me anything in my family, and I hate it. I’m always the last to know when it comes to family affairs. Not trivial things such as family gossip but important information, such as when people are sick. There is no reason I should have just found out Thursday my grandmother is in the hospital. Especially since she went in Wednesday. Or that she has cancer and is having surgery to remove the growth Friday.
Would I have ever known if I hadn’t called out of the blue and asked a specific question? My parents seem to think I get too emotional and hysterical when hearing bad news. No, I get upset when I find out things randomly. Then no one ever has any details. They give you bits and pieces of information and leave you to assume the worse.
This isn’t the first time my parents failed to tell me important bad news. I found out my other granny was dying because some nosy individual called me at work to ask what was wrong with her. Nothing to my knowledge. This led me to calling my parents and hearing the dreaded news. She had been in hospice since Sunday. I got that first call Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening she was gone. All I could do was write and cry. No one wants to work knowing their grandmother is dying 500 miles away.
My parents didn’t seem to learn from that situation. I found out my brother was in the hospital with cancer by randomly calling my mom too (though she can’t seem to remember). I hopped in the car instantly to head home. Ma Dukes said in those instances it was because I lived nearly six hours away, by myself, and they didn’t want to upset me. I live just an hour away now. So what’s the excuse?
Sometimes I feel like the red-headed step child. One cousin pointed out my grandmother’s children like to keep information to themselves. Only one grandchild is ever in the know. My grandmother may have about 50 million other grandchildren, but we all deserve the right to know what’s happening with her, especially if we’re asking. If nothing more the top 10, myself included, should be in the loop. I might get emotional and start crying, but in the midst of my crying I can pray too.
The communication chain needs to be strengthened in the family. I’ve told my mother I don’t like how things go down when it’s bad news. Pa Dukes is getting the talk next. Maybe in the future they will do better. All I know is if I so much as get a cold, I am sending out a press release to everyone in the family.
Would I have ever known if I hadn’t called out of the blue and asked a specific question? My parents seem to think I get too emotional and hysterical when hearing bad news. No, I get upset when I find out things randomly. Then no one ever has any details. They give you bits and pieces of information and leave you to assume the worse.
This isn’t the first time my parents failed to tell me important bad news. I found out my other granny was dying because some nosy individual called me at work to ask what was wrong with her. Nothing to my knowledge. This led me to calling my parents and hearing the dreaded news. She had been in hospice since Sunday. I got that first call Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening she was gone. All I could do was write and cry. No one wants to work knowing their grandmother is dying 500 miles away.
My parents didn’t seem to learn from that situation. I found out my brother was in the hospital with cancer by randomly calling my mom too (though she can’t seem to remember). I hopped in the car instantly to head home. Ma Dukes said in those instances it was because I lived nearly six hours away, by myself, and they didn’t want to upset me. I live just an hour away now. So what’s the excuse?
Sometimes I feel like the red-headed step child. One cousin pointed out my grandmother’s children like to keep information to themselves. Only one grandchild is ever in the know. My grandmother may have about 50 million other grandchildren, but we all deserve the right to know what’s happening with her, especially if we’re asking. If nothing more the top 10, myself included, should be in the loop. I might get emotional and start crying, but in the midst of my crying I can pray too.
The communication chain needs to be strengthened in the family. I’ve told my mother I don’t like how things go down when it’s bad news. Pa Dukes is getting the talk next. Maybe in the future they will do better. All I know is if I so much as get a cold, I am sending out a press release to everyone in the family.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
tales of a traveler
It feels like I haven’t seen my house in ages. Maybe it’s because I’ve been on a trip every weekend since June 17. The house has seen me a grand total of seven days between then and now. When opportunity knocks you have to open the door. And open I did to one trip after the other.
I started out in Topsail Beach, N.C. with my girls –Ebonita Esperanza and Bella Jean-Pierre – the first weekend. Our mini vacation was completely carefree and relaxing. We spent time at a beach house owned by EE’s grandmother. Life was good. The ocean was our personal playground each day. We even took a river boat cruise. Of course no one wanted to return back to regular life. I barely had time to adjust before leaving for another trip.
West Palm Beach was the next destination the following weekend for my family reunion. I sung the whole trip down, despite Ma Duke’s annoyance. Days and nights were devoted to family bonding. Activities included a meet and greet that first day, singing karaoke in a Spanish bar the second and visiting our foreparents' gravesite the third. Once the family fun ended it was time to go home.
However my return home was short lived before heading to my favorite vacation spot, Baltimore, M.D. July 1. The fantastic Cee and her family are always so welcoming for my every trip (which has become a habit). We made a list of things to do, including watching “Pretty Woman” (which I had never seen), getting gelato and going on a scavenger hunt (my team won). Best of all we played Buzz the Hollywood Quiz for hours on end. Seriously, that game is addictive. Unfortunately all good things must end, and back to Lake City I went Tuesday.
I enjoyed each of my trips and didn’t want to leave when the time came, but it does feel good to be back home. Sometimes you just want to lie in your own bed with your stuffed Eeyore and Snuggles. And I think all that back-to-back traveling tired me out. I’m not up to any traveling except for one place this weekend – my bed. Well there and work. I’ll go back to traveling after my vacation time resets in August. I already have a spot in mind. Next destination – Miami!
I started out in Topsail Beach, N.C. with my girls –Ebonita Esperanza and Bella Jean-Pierre – the first weekend. Our mini vacation was completely carefree and relaxing. We spent time at a beach house owned by EE’s grandmother. Life was good. The ocean was our personal playground each day. We even took a river boat cruise. Of course no one wanted to return back to regular life. I barely had time to adjust before leaving for another trip.
West Palm Beach was the next destination the following weekend for my family reunion. I sung the whole trip down, despite Ma Duke’s annoyance. Days and nights were devoted to family bonding. Activities included a meet and greet that first day, singing karaoke in a Spanish bar the second and visiting our foreparents' gravesite the third. Once the family fun ended it was time to go home.
However my return home was short lived before heading to my favorite vacation spot, Baltimore, M.D. July 1. The fantastic Cee and her family are always so welcoming for my every trip (which has become a habit). We made a list of things to do, including watching “Pretty Woman” (which I had never seen), getting gelato and going on a scavenger hunt (my team won). Best of all we played Buzz the Hollywood Quiz for hours on end. Seriously, that game is addictive. Unfortunately all good things must end, and back to Lake City I went Tuesday.
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| At least until I get some more vacation time. |