The Eyes Have it

After listening to me bitch about my wonky glasses, Himself slated $$ from our tax refund to go to our optometrist. So as we met up with Whiskey Jack this morning, The Girl insisted on going with WJ and not to my appointment. WJ was amenable provided I bring Bina home. Fine and dandy.

I was able to rush home, set out some CD cases for a freecycler and get to the doc's office with time enough to knit a few more rows of Misterpher's scarf. A woman came over and told me her story of her loom knitting. (She was making a small tube that took her three years to complete. She only used free yarn and it stretched several hundred feet because she was making a hat that spiraled on itself. But, of course, that was years ago.)

I go into the exam room. Chat with the doc. He does the exam. Then he dilated my eyes. OH MY FREAKING DOODLE! I don't think I will ever agree to that again, unless I have an entourage to help my wide-eyed butt home! (Serves me right. I sat there regaling this guy with stories of 16th century Ladies of the Italian court using belladonna to dilate their eyes because it was thought to be beautiful.)

It was like the movies in the 40's. They would smear vaseline on the camera lens to soften the aging actresses' images. I kept blinking thinking the glob of crap would pass away. But noooooooo! I was close to becoming a menace on the road.

And the SUN! ARGGG! I just had to have an eye doctor appointment on the one sunny day in the fucking Pacific Northwest! Sure, I could have told Misterpher no effing way would I show him my dilated eyes, but I had to. What an idiot.

And of course, like every optometrist, he had the dorkey "Oh look at me, I got my eyes dilated" sun shields inserts. Not even the ones that fit over your glasses. Nope, I got the ones that slide under my glasses so it's eyes, large hunk of brown dork plastic, my itty-bitty prescription lenses. Yeesh.

As I was dropping off one of the kids to her dad, he was making a visible effort not to stare at my "condition" and not to laugh or scream. I lifted them off with the unrequested excuse, "IwenttotheeyedoctortodayandheflippingdilatedmyeyesOK?"

His response: "Oh good, I thought you were being as weird as I thought you are."

My pithy retort: "I am that weird, but not to the point of looking stoopid."

I made it over to WJ's for QFC lunch and Misterpher to chuck a brick at Bina. (And this after she lists off her top 10 mean people, which, BTW, included Misterpher.) We agreed that I needed to take my squids with me to my 1:45 meeting, not because of bricks mind you, but because the Elfinator needed a nap and only some naked time was keeping him from blowing a gasket.

So I head over the school and meet. The overhead flourescents made pretty wavy images that made me feel nauseated. So I subjected myself to more cruel snickers and stuck the damn thing in my glasses.

After some doodling around, we deliver squished cupcakes to Kabloey's classroom to celebrate his 10th birthday. It was Misterpher's idea to have the kids sing the song to him in high-pitched dissonant voices. They sounded much like the mermaids' song in the latest HP flick. I asked if they would make sense if we dunked them all in water. Mr H saw the humor in that. Thankfully.

So we made it home. I called SGF to ask her to take Misterpher to Tball with Sam-I-Am. She agreed. The Girl napped, Kabloey played on the computer conquering the world, I read some of my latest "conventional wisdom is Fucking wrong!" book and napped too. With the blinds closed.

Himself came home tonight. Look Ma, no rehearsal! and has taken over parenting and homemaking for the evening.

I gotta get me an entourage.