“Dreaded Glaucoma Test....


gotta take it when you’re seventeen.” I had an eye exam yesterday and I always get that song stuck in my head. It’s by some whackado called “weird Paul” (or something like that). I got the tape from a Tower coworker a really long time ago and don’t have any idea where it is now. Dave had to remind me where I heard the song. Yet every year, when my chin is resting in the little cup and they shoot air at my eye, I have that “song” (it barely qualifies the label) stuck in my head. Cheers! to Weird Paul or whatever his name is.

So yesterday, they’re going to dilate my eyes. If you’ve never had this done, the drops they put in your eyes sting. It’s not a big deal, but you definitely feel it. So, she puts the stinging drops in and then, after the stinging has pretty much stopped, she says “okay now I’m going to put drops in to numb your eyes.” Huh? Couldn’t she have done that first? Maybe they sting too, like lidocane shots. She probably just didn’t like me. Dave told me when he went to his appointment a couple of weeks ago, he could see her thong strap hanging out. Why he was looking at her ass, I didn’t ask.

I also found out that I have a mole/freckle-like thing in my left eye called a nevus. For some reason this grosses me out. The optometrist checks it out and make sure it hasn’t changed, just like watching a mole for cancer. My optometrist says they’re fairly common. He has three of them in one eye. Still sort of “oogy.”

They have a new guy there who helps you pick out your frames. He was great. I’d put a pair on and he’d say, “Nope.” Unfortunately I can’t sport the type of frames I like. ALL of the plastic frames look stupid on me. Anything that has any sort of “cat eyeness” looks ridiculous. I put one pair on and the guy said “too bug-eyed.” He was a lot of fun.

Sort of Old News, but....


I finally finished (I should say finally started, since it’s such a quick read) Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Wow. I don’t really want to mention the details for those who haven’t read it yet and might want to. (I’ve already had America’s Next Top Model spoiled for me two weeks in a row via the internet).

I didn’t think I was going to finish it last night (this morning). I decided I’d just read a chapter or two, but when I got to the end of the chapter where I thought I was going stop reading, I couldn’t. I knew I would have to finish the book. I woke Dave up at 1:40 am. He’s used to this, after the time I finished Return of the King in the middle of the night and woke him up in tears to talk about it. (Yes, I did cry when I finished Return of the King, but having kids made me all mushy-brained, so I blame them). I knew he wanted to talk about the book anyway, because he actually stayed awake enough to have a short conversation that made since, as opposed to this “sleep talking” thing he does, which is creepy and weird.

I’ll just say, and Dave agrees that in the end I think Snape will turn out to be a good guy. That probably seems pretty obvious, but, at this point, Rowling could take it either way. I really like the Harry Potter series. I wonder if I would have liked when I was a ‘tween. I was pretty busy reading the Black Stallion series and Vietnam War novels, so I’m not sure.

Coffee is my New Best Friend


So, the wonders of coffee are hardly news to anyone, but I just started drinking it again after many years of abstinence. It sure is wonderful. I’m glad we got that coffee maker for a wedding present six years ago. I just took it out of the box last Sunday and made the first pot (well, fraction of a pot) on Monday morning. I’ve had a giant cup every morning since. It’s like crack.....well, having never done crack, perhaps that’s not very accurate. Anyway, I’m hooked, I think. Well, except I can stop anytime....

Steel Cut Oatmeal

Okay. I’ve had a couple recommendations for the stuff. One was from my brother and the other from Oprah (owa-owa- oprah). I went to the store last night and saw some in the hippy-food aisle. It was on sale so I decided to get some and try it out.

When I got it home I compared it to the regular old “quick oats” we have in the house. All of the nutritional information was pretty much the same. I was feeling pretty skeptical at that point. There was really no nutritional benefit to eating it and it takes about a half-hour to cook on the stove top, compared with the 1.5 minutes the quick oats take in the microwave.

Anyway, I decided to make the stuff this morning. As it was simmering, I would periodically check on it and give it a stir. Each time I was kind of grossed out by the thick skin it developed. One time the skin was pretty thick so I pulled it off the surface of the oatmeal. Ewww.

About the time it was done, I noticed that a bunch of it was stuck to the bottom of the pot, which was annoying. I kept thinking that this stuff was a total waste of time. But, to get to the point, it was really good. A lot better than the “quick oats.” It was kind of chewy and just tasted better. (The giant spoonful of brown sugar couldn’t have hurt). It didn’t have the “gag on me” quality that the quick oats sometimes have. I’m converted. There are microwave directions on the package, but they are not recommended. I’ll have to give them a try sometime and see what happens.

POOP FOR PEGASUS

Yesterday, I decided to take Roan and Sage to Toys R Us to get a couple of Leap Pad books for Roan. While we were there, Roan sees this gawdawful stuffed pegasus doll. Roan got excited and said “a unicorn!” So I said we could get it, but it would be her prize for pooping on the potty. She agreed.

So, we get home and I put the pegasus up on top of the cabinet in the bathroom. Roan decides she has to go potty. So she sits on her little potty chair and pees. Then she won’t get off of it. “I have to poop, “ she says while looking up at the pegasus. She had to have been on the thing for about an hour. The whole time I’m trying to explain, that “maybe it’s not time to poop. Let’s put your pull-up back on and go play.” Which resulted on lots of screaming “No, I don’t want to put my pull-up back on” and “I just want to poop.” Then she would ask “Help, me mommy,” while I’m trying to explain that I can’t really help her poop.

Finally she got off the potty, only to repeat the above again later in the day. As I’m writing this, she’s sitting on the potty, trying to poop so she can get the damn pegasus (complete with long pink mane and iridescent wings) down off of the bathroom cabinet.