I mentioned previously on Facebook that my son and daughter in law have told me several times that I should write a blog called "S*&$ Larry says". Larry is my husband of, let me count, 28 years. As he gets older, he gets funnier. Only he doesn't mean to. Which makes it even funnier.
So I'm going to try to make every Saturday a post about the latest absurd or funny thing Larry did.
Last night, my husband was watching the news. Which almost always means that he's actually napping. The funny thing about my husband's naps, which are legendary, is that he frequently acts offended and/or defensive about them. "I'm awake!" He often snaps, if you suggest that he, perhaps, go to bed to snore.
Anyway, he was napping or watching the news, depending on who you ask. My son called and was telling me about something that had happened at work. We'd been talking awhile. At one point, I asked my son, "what do you think's going to happen?" Larry sat up straight, eyes wide open and said, "I don't know!" very conversationally, as if we'd been talking all along.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Doctor, My Eyes!
Getting old kind of sucks. For many reasons. I could go on and on. But for now, I'm only going to go on about the vision part.
I've worn glasses or contact since I was, I think, about 8. My mother was "frugal" before it was cool to be frugal, and she would be the cheapest possible thing no matter what.
(a quick story that proves my point. When I was pregnant, just barely pregnant, and living 400 miles from home, mom called to ask if I needed anything. I was quickly becoming too fat for my regular clothes but not yet big enough for maternity clothes. So, I told her I needed some stretchy sweat pants in a size Large. She sent them. In a size Medium. Which didn't fit. When I asked why, I was told that the medium ones were one dollar cheaper.)
OK back on point. My frugal mother purchased for my first pair of glasses the least expensive glasses she could. These were blue, pointy, and very, very, very not cool. I realize retro is kind of "in" now, but before it becomes retro, it's ugly and geeky. So off I went into the belly of the beast that is grade school, sporting my specs. Yeah, four-eyes was one of the nicer things I was called. I became the "girl with the glasses". And it's true what they say about boys and passes and girls with glasses. (at least I think it was the glasses!)
My memories of growing up oddly include many about my vision correction devices. Finally getting the cool wire rimmed specs in 7th grade. Begging, pleading, crying for contact lenses at 15. Begging, pleading, crying for SOFT lenses at 17 and not getting them. Buying them myself when I was 18, going out and getting drunker than a skunk the first night I wore them, (I'm so old it was legal to drink when i was 18) and 3 of my college hall-mates (who had been drinking with me) trying to help me get them out. Hint: they don't come out the same way as the hard ones did.
So I go every year for the eye exam, and have been doing this for lots o' years. When I hit 40, doctors started warning me that the reading vision would start going any time. Ha. I could read even the tiniest print on the card. Year after year. My reading vision was fine, thank you very much. Until all of a sudden, it wasn't. Crap! I couldn't read the time on your watch, the back of a box of macaroni to see how long to cook it, and Lord help if I need to know how many pills to take! So I started sporting the readers, leaving them in every room, purse, and location. I must have collected 10 pairs. But I always hated how I look in glasses, and this just wasn't making me happy.
When I first tried multi-focal lenses, I was ecstatic. These amazing lenses are comprised of concentric circles for close vision/distance vision, and somehow one's eyes just know which circle to use. Amazing! No more readers! I could see like a 39 year old! And I could, for a long time. Until I couldn't. Apparently, the worse your close-vision gets, the less likely it becomes that these types of lenses will work. So next, we did the split one-eye-for-close-and-one-eye-for distance. I hated it the whole time. I felt off balance, and I couldn't really see that well up close OR at a distance. Plus, my dry-eyes have gotten worse and worse, making contacts terribly uncomfortable some days.
So this last visit, I scrapped them. Now on deck: Daily wear disposables. So thin you can barely see them. UBER comfy.Wear 'em once, and toss 'em. No cleaning, no solution to buy. And, once more, an array of stylish, cute, quirky readers. I'm learning to embrace the four-eye look again. I may even look for a pair of pointy blue ones.
I've worn glasses or contact since I was, I think, about 8. My mother was "frugal" before it was cool to be frugal, and she would be the cheapest possible thing no matter what.
(a quick story that proves my point. When I was pregnant, just barely pregnant, and living 400 miles from home, mom called to ask if I needed anything. I was quickly becoming too fat for my regular clothes but not yet big enough for maternity clothes. So, I told her I needed some stretchy sweat pants in a size Large. She sent them. In a size Medium. Which didn't fit. When I asked why, I was told that the medium ones were one dollar cheaper.)
OK back on point. My frugal mother purchased for my first pair of glasses the least expensive glasses she could. These were blue, pointy, and very, very, very not cool. I realize retro is kind of "in" now, but before it becomes retro, it's ugly and geeky. So off I went into the belly of the beast that is grade school, sporting my specs. Yeah, four-eyes was one of the nicer things I was called. I became the "girl with the glasses". And it's true what they say about boys and passes and girls with glasses. (at least I think it was the glasses!)
My memories of growing up oddly include many about my vision correction devices. Finally getting the cool wire rimmed specs in 7th grade. Begging, pleading, crying for contact lenses at 15. Begging, pleading, crying for SOFT lenses at 17 and not getting them. Buying them myself when I was 18, going out and getting drunker than a skunk the first night I wore them, (I'm so old it was legal to drink when i was 18) and 3 of my college hall-mates (who had been drinking with me) trying to help me get them out. Hint: they don't come out the same way as the hard ones did.
So I go every year for the eye exam, and have been doing this for lots o' years. When I hit 40, doctors started warning me that the reading vision would start going any time. Ha. I could read even the tiniest print on the card. Year after year. My reading vision was fine, thank you very much. Until all of a sudden, it wasn't. Crap! I couldn't read the time on your watch, the back of a box of macaroni to see how long to cook it, and Lord help if I need to know how many pills to take! So I started sporting the readers, leaving them in every room, purse, and location. I must have collected 10 pairs. But I always hated how I look in glasses, and this just wasn't making me happy.
When I first tried multi-focal lenses, I was ecstatic. These amazing lenses are comprised of concentric circles for close vision/distance vision, and somehow one's eyes just know which circle to use. Amazing! No more readers! I could see like a 39 year old! And I could, for a long time. Until I couldn't. Apparently, the worse your close-vision gets, the less likely it becomes that these types of lenses will work. So next, we did the split one-eye-for-close-and-one-eye-for distance. I hated it the whole time. I felt off balance, and I couldn't really see that well up close OR at a distance. Plus, my dry-eyes have gotten worse and worse, making contacts terribly uncomfortable some days.
So this last visit, I scrapped them. Now on deck: Daily wear disposables. So thin you can barely see them. UBER comfy.Wear 'em once, and toss 'em. No cleaning, no solution to buy. And, once more, an array of stylish, cute, quirky readers. I'm learning to embrace the four-eye look again. I may even look for a pair of pointy blue ones.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Presenteeism
I'm home sick from work today. The thing is, I've gone to work on days when I felt much worse than today. I've been sick, off and on, for most of this month. First a cold/sore throat/plague thing that lingered forever, then a vicious stomach bug (or food poisoning?) last week, and this morning, the stomach bug, albeit a milder version, seems to have returned. From what I hear, it's circled around the office a few times as well. A few weeks ago, when I had the cold/sore throat/plague thing, everyone in the office was hacking and horking and looking like death warmed over. But our schedules were demanding, our calendars were full, our deadlines were looming, and we pressed on.
But I wonder -- when you just keep working when you're sick, what are you really accomplishing? Sure, you get things done and maybe avoid missing a deadline. But at best, you're not firing on all pistons. At worst, your brain is fuddled by medication or fevers or lack of sleep. And the germs you're sharing are just going to mean that your co-worker has the same thing going on a few days later. Also, I just have to think that actually staying out of work and resting (like the doctor suggested I do a few weeks ago -- fat chance, I worked a holiday instead) would go a long way towards getting well faster warding off the relapses. So a day spent at home might equal four productive workdays, whereas a day in which you drag your half-dead ass to work might drag out the illness and result in five days of mediocrity or mistakes.
Most of my co-workers and many of my friends have very busy, demanding jobs. I consider my job to be demanding, and most times it's quite busy. For the most part, if I get behind, there's no one who can cover for me. So we drag ourselves in. Secretly, I think, we all want the brownie points we get for going the extra mile. These days, no one can afford to be seen as the weakest link. So we're damn glad to have our jobs and we just don't think a fever or a night spent vomiting is an acceptable reason to stay home.
What's wrong with this picture?
But I wonder -- when you just keep working when you're sick, what are you really accomplishing? Sure, you get things done and maybe avoid missing a deadline. But at best, you're not firing on all pistons. At worst, your brain is fuddled by medication or fevers or lack of sleep. And the germs you're sharing are just going to mean that your co-worker has the same thing going on a few days later. Also, I just have to think that actually staying out of work and resting (like the doctor suggested I do a few weeks ago -- fat chance, I worked a holiday instead) would go a long way towards getting well faster warding off the relapses. So a day spent at home might equal four productive workdays, whereas a day in which you drag your half-dead ass to work might drag out the illness and result in five days of mediocrity or mistakes.
Most of my co-workers and many of my friends have very busy, demanding jobs. I consider my job to be demanding, and most times it's quite busy. For the most part, if I get behind, there's no one who can cover for me. So we drag ourselves in. Secretly, I think, we all want the brownie points we get for going the extra mile. These days, no one can afford to be seen as the weakest link. So we're damn glad to have our jobs and we just don't think a fever or a night spent vomiting is an acceptable reason to stay home.
What's wrong with this picture?
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Revival
I'm not sure why I've let the blog go dormant. I've been busy since the last time I posted with things like, oh, I don't know, a few dozen months of working and living. I'm sure there are many spell-binding tales I could share, some good, some bad. But the quick highlights (many of which would have made AWESOME blog posts) are as follows:
-2010 sucked. Enough said.
-2011 was way better. Went to Key West, started working out again, and best of all, got blessed with a second amazing and awesome grandson named Owen.
Anyway, I missed my quirky little blog that I'm sure no one reads. So I'm reviving it. My life is full of randomly profound moments and equally random absurd moments, and I want to remember them.
So stay turned, whoever you are.
-2010 sucked. Enough said.
-2011 was way better. Went to Key West, started working out again, and best of all, got blessed with a second amazing and awesome grandson named Owen.
Anyway, I missed my quirky little blog that I'm sure no one reads. So I'm reviving it. My life is full of randomly profound moments and equally random absurd moments, and I want to remember them.
So stay turned, whoever you are.
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