It’s about time!

Do you ever notice people’s clocks?

I think clocks say a lot about who we are. Even if you didn’t buy it yourself, if you have it hanging on the wall or sitting around, that monstrously huge timepiece that plays a song every 15 minutes says a bit about you. I mean, let’s face it, most of us would chuck it into a closet if we didn’t like it.

My sisters’ clocks …

My youngest sister has a wall clock in her kitchen that chirps like a different kind of bird every 15 minutes. Personally, that would drive me bonkers but she really likes it. What does that say about her? I think it says she has a calm spirit that allows those chirps to just wash right over her. I, on the other hand, have a frantic spirit that makes every one of those chirps ding my brain whenever I hear them.

My other sister (the middle one) has the clock mentioned in the first paragraph. Somebody gave this masterpiece to her — and she really likes it. What I think this clock says about her is that she likes shiny things hanging on the wall and she likes being serenaded. As for me, when the music plays, loudly, it startles me (… it’s that frantic spirit of mine).

My tick-tockers …

So, about now you’re wondering what kind of clock(s) I have. Well, I have a clock hanging in the kitchen that I found at a local consignment shop (it’s from the 60’s, I think). It’s in the shape of a coffee cup with colors that match my kitchen wallpaper. So, what does it say about me?

Maybe it says that I like things to be matchy-matchy, or that I like vintage accessories, or that I’m thrifty, or maybe not. I think it says that I got really lucky and stumbled upon a neat clock for my kitchen and had sense enough to buy it. And, by the way, my kitchen clock doesn’t make even the slightest peep.

The clock in my bedroom, though is a whole other ballgame. It was a gift from Mom about twenty-five years ago. It’s a big mantle clock but, in my opinion, not too terribly over the top. (I’d have a pic but I’m too pooped to climb the stairs.) It does, however, chime every 15 minutes and strikes the hour much like a grandfather clock. (It even sort of looks like the top of a grandfather clock.) So, why do I keep it (in my bedroom no less) even though it makes noise? What does it say about me?

Hmmm, I think it says that I like knowing what time it is in the middle of the night but don’t want to have to turn on the light and/or dig in the drawer of my bedside table to find my glasses so I can see the alarm clock next to my bed. Besides, waking up in the middle of the night and hearing that soft chime makes me feel secure … that all’s right with the world and that I can go back to sleep.

Silly?

Probably, but that’s okay, Mom gave it to me.

Try as I might, I just don’t get it!

Posted by goodoldgirl

There are some things in this world that just confound me. You know the kind of things I mean, for example:

Why is it that you always have a great hair day the day you have an appointment to get it cut?

Why does a neighbor always drop in on days when you really just want to be alone?

Why is it raining when you come out of the movie theater even though it was sunny when you went in and no rain was predicted?

Why do you always get stuck behind somebody going 10-15 miles under the speed limit only on the days when you’re late for work?

Why is there no such thing as a perfectly made new car, or new appliance, or new electronic device, or new anything for that matter?

Why does my cat Emmie always (and yes, I mean always) toss her cookies on my bed’s newly washed coverlet?

And why, for the love of all God‘s creatures, is it that March 2012 is the warmest March on record but April 2012 is as chilly and dreary as it can get?

Done with the whyning.

Bye.

… thanks for listening!

Milk Colored Glasses

Posted by goodoldgirl

Years ago, my ophthalmologist told me I have something called corneal haze. Over the years it’s not gotten better, but it’s also not gotten worse. I guess the best way to describe it is to say it’s sort of like looking through a thin layer of teeny tiny milk spots.

Photo credit, Kemal Gökçe.

Corneal haze is the term I remember him using but that may be more the way he explained it than what it actually is — corneal dystrophy — which is abnormal material accumulating in the clear outer layer(s) of the eye. (That outer layer is the cornea, in case you’re wondering.) (You can’t catch it because it’s genetic, in case you’re wondering about that, too.)

Unfortunately for me, though, it may be the one thing that keeps me from being able to have my cataract laden biological lenses replaced with shiny new synthetic multi focal lenses. (At least I think that’s it, though it could have been something else entirely, you know how docs ramble, or maybe it’s my brain that does the rambling.) The key word here is multi focal. They can be replaced with single focus lenses but I’ll still need glasses to read. (Kind of a bummer if you ask me.)

Leave it to me to have spots on the outside layer of my eyes as well as spots on the inside of them. No wonder I like polka-dotted fabric so much — it fits right in!

Back to topic …

Photo credit, Wikipedia.

Looking on the bright side, I’ll still be able to have the cataracts removed and only have to wear glasses part of the time. Doc is checking with a specialist to see if any new developments with multi focal lenses make them still be an option for me. I’m not getting my hopes up. We’ll see. And that, when it comes right down to it, is the most important thing — I’ll still see, only better.

If it’s really not an option, at least I won’t have to pay a small fortune to keep from having reading glasses that are as thick as coke bottle bottoms. My new glasses prescription will be much, much less strong (I think that made sense) so they’ll be more affordable. So, it’s all good! Well, mostly.