grown ups are like that....

Friday, July 10, 2009


I first got glasses in high school when it was getting increasingly hard to see my friends across the courtyard and in the halls, and the chalkboards grew cloudy. I wouldn't wear them much at first, only in class. But soon enough it became clear that I needed them all the time. I begged contacts out of my parents and suddenly the world was clear.

A couple of years ago I decided I would save a buck or two by getting glasses that weren't made with the fancy thin-lens material. The optical guy laughed, and basically said I was nuts. My silence told him that I had no idea what he was talking about. He showed me a lens that would be my prescription strength without the fancy plastic. I was horrified at the thickness, the weight, the weird yellowy color. I went with the thin lenses.

At night if I get up to go to the bathroom I put on my glasses. The bathroom is only feet away.

If I take my glasses off now the keyboard would look fuzzy, the monitor a blurred mess.

When I moved into my house I could not stand the idea of white, colorless walls. Every room was instantly painted in a splash of deep color. I don't remember all of the names from the paint chips, but I know the greenish color in my bedroom is called "Bunch of Cloves." Something about it always makes me think of Casablanca. Like Humphrey Bogart's room would have been painted with this strange , cool green. My kitchen is a sunny yellow, as is my daughter's room. My son's room is purple and the living room a deep brown called "Common Ground." Like dirt. But it is vivid, and I love it next to the classic red in the dining room. We have no white walls. To me it would be like drinking luke-warm water to have to look at Cream or Antique White or Eggshell. I need a little ice, a slice of lemon, a spring of mint. Every wall is food for the eyes.

My house is filled with pictures. On the walls, the tables, the kids rooms. I have stacks of photo albums. I don't scrap book, but each album is carefully labeled with the events and dates of the pictures. I am obsessed with my photo albums. I regularly take them out and mull over the old friends, the big parties, the little moments. I so often want to dive into the scene, make it happen again, re-live that moment. I cannot look at my pictures enough. And I take new ones all the time. Even the digital ones are carefully uploaded and stored on-line. My photos have always been tremendously important to me, even if they aren't particularly exciting to anyone else.

My dreams are so vivid I can remember patterns from dresses, the color of someone's eyes, the position of the furniture. My dreams are literally like vivid color movies. The best ones are ones in which I am swimming or flying above water. The water in these dreams is so blue. So blue. I can see for miles either from the air or from the body of water in which I float or swim. The horizon is endless.

But I always wake up feeling for my glasses, disappointed that my daytime eyesight is never as clear as my nighttime visions.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

What It Is part 5

"Once upon a time I had a little rabbit. . . ."

Lynda Barry (What It Is page 87) says that you can start any type of story with this one line. A mystery, a romance, a a thriller, etc. could all potentially start with this simple beginning.

Though not very "meaty" I am going to tell you a real life tale of a little rabbit.


Once upon a time I had a little rabbit that had been found outside of my dorm. The big lop eared bunny was nibbling grass in the quad and my suite mate scooped up the furry friend. The idea was that we would care for the rabbit until we could find a proper home for him. I suppose I liked rabbits well enough, but I wasn't exactly thrilled to be living with one, even temporarily.

You see, I was the Practical One. I drove everyone home when they had too much to drink, and I was the one who held back long hair while a roommate leaned over the bowl the next day. I straightened the common room and set up study sessions. I kept my room clean, and called home just about daily.

So I guess you might say I was also the Good Girl.

In any case, there was a rabbit to deal with right in the middle of finals. A rabbit who crapped everywhere and hopped almost faster than it crapped. Of course, pets were not allowed in the dorms, so this little guy had to be carefully hidden if a resident assistant came by.

One bright afternoon, the housekeeping staff came to clean the common bathroom, and I had to hide the rabbit under my desk. I had no idea how much rabbits liked to chew, until I saw the cords to my little Mac Classic power chewed to bits.

Stupid bunny.