Friday, June 25, 2010
New Glasses
In February I went in for my yearly eye exam. I dread these almost as much as I do the dentist, but I try to be vigilant, lest my health suffer (and my driver's license be revoked because of poor vision). Thanks to my extraordinary genetics, my vision is worse than most 80 year olds. I have thus far blessedly been spared the pain of cataracts, macular degeneration, and the warrior that took my dad's right eye at 25, glaucoma. No, my plight with vision, at least at my tender age, is just horribly horrible vision. My prescription has fallen into the negative double digits for the past 7 or so years. Although I don't fully understand the scribbles on these doctor-signed papers, I see numbers like -22.75, -13, +500, and know it just means my eyesight has indeed wormed it's way to worse, reminding me that not everyone's sight levels when they mature. (Maybe that's saying something about my personality and not my eyes.) I don't mind breaking molds, but this isn't what I had in mind. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to complain; my eyes CAN be corrected, and there's materials to correct them. Thank goodness!
We waited until we got to Durham to fill the glasses prescription because it would take awhile for the lenses to be made, cut, and shipped back. So a couple weeks ago I went to our local optical joint down the road and talked with a very sweet southern lady. When I handed her the prescription, I shifted anxiously, hoping she wouldn't turn me away declaring the prescription impossible for them (like the last place). To my dismay, she said, "Well darling, I don't know if we can fill this." After making some calls, to my relief, she said they found someone to take care of it. Woohoo!
Whenever I pick out frames, my mind tends to wander from the gargantuan prescription and I pick something I think will look really classy, and I'll spend a lot of time looking through the cheap plastic lenses of the display frames and see how they look on my face, with my hair and skin tone, and how it frames my eyes. (I bet a lot of you didn't even realize I paid any attention to those kinds of things!) And so I did with these frames, looking for my southern friend's advice and approval on just the right ones.
I went to pick up my glasses today, and I had dreams of my cute frames, wearing them sometimes when I didn't want to wrestle with my contacts, or when I just thought they would be cute. Then reality reigned me in when they were brought out in their little beige plastic tray and I had to smile at myself. I did feel bad for the poor adorable frames,reduced to pure practicality by the distorted shapes they helped reflect and humiliated by the opaque edges yawning half an inch beyond the delicate black arches that joined it's slender arms to the frame.
For what it's worth, frames, thank you for housing my ice-cube-thick lenses! I know you had better hopes and dreams for yourself, but I anticipate that you will be loved with me as you would have with any mildly near-sided girl. I hope, dear frames, that you will find consolation in the fact that you hold some incredibly expensive lenses. But vision, my new companion, truly is priceless!
Do you think the frames mind too much?
Yes, the fuzzy grey you see through the left lens (on the right side) is, in fact, how thick it is.
I hope our kids have Ethan's vision, but either way, I'm convinced they'll look great in whatever they end up in!
We waited until we got to Durham to fill the glasses prescription because it would take awhile for the lenses to be made, cut, and shipped back. So a couple weeks ago I went to our local optical joint down the road and talked with a very sweet southern lady. When I handed her the prescription, I shifted anxiously, hoping she wouldn't turn me away declaring the prescription impossible for them (like the last place). To my dismay, she said, "Well darling, I don't know if we can fill this." After making some calls, to my relief, she said they found someone to take care of it. Woohoo!
Whenever I pick out frames, my mind tends to wander from the gargantuan prescription and I pick something I think will look really classy, and I'll spend a lot of time looking through the cheap plastic lenses of the display frames and see how they look on my face, with my hair and skin tone, and how it frames my eyes. (I bet a lot of you didn't even realize I paid any attention to those kinds of things!) And so I did with these frames, looking for my southern friend's advice and approval on just the right ones.
I went to pick up my glasses today, and I had dreams of my cute frames, wearing them sometimes when I didn't want to wrestle with my contacts, or when I just thought they would be cute. Then reality reigned me in when they were brought out in their little beige plastic tray and I had to smile at myself. I did feel bad for the poor adorable frames,reduced to pure practicality by the distorted shapes they helped reflect and humiliated by the opaque edges yawning half an inch beyond the delicate black arches that joined it's slender arms to the frame.
For what it's worth, frames, thank you for housing my ice-cube-thick lenses! I know you had better hopes and dreams for yourself, but I anticipate that you will be loved with me as you would have with any mildly near-sided girl. I hope, dear frames, that you will find consolation in the fact that you hold some incredibly expensive lenses. But vision, my new companion, truly is priceless!
Do you think the frames mind too much?
Yes, the fuzzy grey you see through the left lens (on the right side) is, in fact, how thick it is.
I hope our kids have Ethan's vision, but either way, I'm convinced they'll look great in whatever they end up in!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Letting Sand Settle in Durham
There is a lot to be said for numbers.
37 days ago Ethan and I drove in to Durham, North Carolina for the first time, a place we've committed to live in for the next three years. Thank goodness we love it here! We've met wonderful families and made fast friends. Our apartment is finally (almost) unpacked. It's feeling like our home, at least for three years.
111 is what the thermostat in the car read yesterday at 5:30pm, and it was surprisingly tolerable. What does this mean, you wonder? It means that when August and September roll around, one might find Katrina hiding in her air conditioned apartment. The humidity, much to the shock of many, is a pleasant addition to the heat. Ethan and I love the weather (at least the weather in May and June).
3 full weeks of law school have brought Ethan to further legal enlightenment, and me to the fast realization that whether or not I listen, he is going to explain his latest case. I can sing a song, brush my teeth, go to the bathroom, or write an email, and he never gets irritated that I'm obviously not listening. Is this a healthy habit for either of us to foster? Hmmm....
4 months and a day(122 days) since Chloe died. Days like Father's Day are especially hard. We both miss her so much and see children in church and around our complex that she would have loved to be friends with, and it's hard. We miss her big and little sounds, her dancing, grins, giggles, clapping, hugging and kissing, rolling, and even her crying. Our hearts are still broken, but there is
1 Savior who makes it possible for us to know where she is and that we can have her sweet little self with us again. One Savior who gave the ultimate gift and loved perfectly and completely.
7 tomato plants are holding on for their dear lives on our poorly sunned deck. Shocking, I know, that I could come from a mother who sticks a dry twig in the ground and out pops the green leaves, but there you have it. We (I) are (am) determined, though, to grow plants. I will learn!
2 completed paintings have made their way to the paper. I have a whole bunch more I'm excited to start. I've noticed I spend a lot more time looking at colors, shapes, how contour is captured, shade, distance, etc. I don't really know what I'm talking about, except that I sure like painting a whole lot and I fully intend to do a lot more of it!
I could talk about our 6 dining room chairs (one of which has been torn to shreds by your truly) that are waiting on the perfect fabric to be recovered, or the 1 cord we need to hook up our tv and dvd player so we can actually watch movies. I could even touch on our 3 bookshelves that are so packed that books are shoved haphazardly into the nooks and crannies. But I think I better stop. For now.
And a Happy Father's Day!!
To all of the wonderful fathers out there, especially the amazing man I'm married to, and the lucky (and ever so patient:)) guy who got to be my dad, I truly wish you the best. Thank you, dad, for being such a wonderful example to me. You're always so cheerful, encouraging, and good-natured. I respect so much your amazing work ethic and fun ethic. You know how to do both really well (although I always remember wishing you had more "fun ethic" growing up, and a little less drive to instill that work ethic). I'm so grateful for the lessons you taught me, some in word, but mostly through example and love. Thank you, and I love you so much, Pops!
Ethan, to steal a much-loved phrase of my mom's, you're my hero! Really, you are truly always there for me, in good times and in bad. You've proved that over the short time we've been married. I'm so happy that you're stuck to this ball and chain forever! (We'll just say that this specific ball is a bouncy, fun, round beach ball, and the chain is just... um, decorative. A little less daunting, then, right?) You are ambitious, and a great example to me of moral uprightness and righteous living. You are filled with love, and showed our baby girl how much you love her every day. You continue to show her every day. You are a wonderful father, the best father our baby Chloe could have had. And she sure loves you.
Like father, like daughter. Really, a chip off the ol' block.
37 days ago Ethan and I drove in to Durham, North Carolina for the first time, a place we've committed to live in for the next three years. Thank goodness we love it here! We've met wonderful families and made fast friends. Our apartment is finally (almost) unpacked. It's feeling like our home, at least for three years.
111 is what the thermostat in the car read yesterday at 5:30pm, and it was surprisingly tolerable. What does this mean, you wonder? It means that when August and September roll around, one might find Katrina hiding in her air conditioned apartment. The humidity, much to the shock of many, is a pleasant addition to the heat. Ethan and I love the weather (at least the weather in May and June).
3 full weeks of law school have brought Ethan to further legal enlightenment, and me to the fast realization that whether or not I listen, he is going to explain his latest case. I can sing a song, brush my teeth, go to the bathroom, or write an email, and he never gets irritated that I'm obviously not listening. Is this a healthy habit for either of us to foster? Hmmm....
4 months and a day(122 days) since Chloe died. Days like Father's Day are especially hard. We both miss her so much and see children in church and around our complex that she would have loved to be friends with, and it's hard. We miss her big and little sounds, her dancing, grins, giggles, clapping, hugging and kissing, rolling, and even her crying. Our hearts are still broken, but there is
1 Savior who makes it possible for us to know where she is and that we can have her sweet little self with us again. One Savior who gave the ultimate gift and loved perfectly and completely.
7 tomato plants are holding on for their dear lives on our poorly sunned deck. Shocking, I know, that I could come from a mother who sticks a dry twig in the ground and out pops the green leaves, but there you have it. We (I) are (am) determined, though, to grow plants. I will learn!
2 completed paintings have made their way to the paper. I have a whole bunch more I'm excited to start. I've noticed I spend a lot more time looking at colors, shapes, how contour is captured, shade, distance, etc. I don't really know what I'm talking about, except that I sure like painting a whole lot and I fully intend to do a lot more of it!
I could talk about our 6 dining room chairs (one of which has been torn to shreds by your truly) that are waiting on the perfect fabric to be recovered, or the 1 cord we need to hook up our tv and dvd player so we can actually watch movies. I could even touch on our 3 bookshelves that are so packed that books are shoved haphazardly into the nooks and crannies. But I think I better stop. For now.
And a Happy Father's Day!!
To all of the wonderful fathers out there, especially the amazing man I'm married to, and the lucky (and ever so patient:)) guy who got to be my dad, I truly wish you the best. Thank you, dad, for being such a wonderful example to me. You're always so cheerful, encouraging, and good-natured. I respect so much your amazing work ethic and fun ethic. You know how to do both really well (although I always remember wishing you had more "fun ethic" growing up, and a little less drive to instill that work ethic). I'm so grateful for the lessons you taught me, some in word, but mostly through example and love. Thank you, and I love you so much, Pops!
Ethan, to steal a much-loved phrase of my mom's, you're my hero! Really, you are truly always there for me, in good times and in bad. You've proved that over the short time we've been married. I'm so happy that you're stuck to this ball and chain forever! (We'll just say that this specific ball is a bouncy, fun, round beach ball, and the chain is just... um, decorative. A little less daunting, then, right?) You are ambitious, and a great example to me of moral uprightness and righteous living. You are filled with love, and showed our baby girl how much you love her every day. You continue to show her every day. You are a wonderful father, the best father our baby Chloe could have had. And she sure loves you.
Like father, like daughter. Really, a chip off the ol' block.
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