So I guess Husband was right. I’ve been constipated. It seems I swallowed a trippy concoction of elation and horror after being cast in the LTYM Baltimore show and it backed me way up. Now that the show is over, suddenly, the words are flowing freely again and I have a lot of loose ends to tie up. Oh God, I’m dying over here. LOOSE ENDS. So easily entertained. Its sad in a way, I know.
In the week before the show, I started having some pretty wild and crazy dreams, something our producers/directors said might happen. I’m going to share some of them here because I feel like it. I started this post before my LTYM wrap up post, but I published the latter one first because it turned into an epic tale of sorts and I worried I’d never finish it if I didn’t publish it. I have some pretty interesting work habits in that I will sometimes publish something before I completely finish the edits because publishing forces me to finish the edits. Ha. Given that this is a modest operation with only 7 readers, I think I can get away with it.
Anyway, one night I dreamed that as I walked to the podium to share my story, Clarence Clemons came out from behind the curtain and met me there. I kissed him just like I did on stage in Baltimore in 2009, then I crumpled up my story, threw it to the ground, stomped on it with my red cowboy boots and WE DANCED. What do you think it meant? I have no idea, perhaps it was the last minute editing process that went on that week, but nevertheless, it was cool.
Another night, I dreamed I was freaking out because I’d forgotten to wear Depends to the show and we all know I have pee problems when I’m nervous or I laugh too much. As I walked to the podium to read, the pee was running down my legs but thankfully, I’d worn my red cowboy boots which collected all of that pee so there were no puddles, just squishy feet, until I slipped on the way back to my chair after sharing my story, gallons of pee pouring out of my boots. I stood up and hollered something about my lady parts being stretched out after childbirth. That one was pretty self-explanatory. Scared shitless.
If you follow me on FB, you know I finally went to get my eyes checked, the first stop on my getting-caught-up-on-my-medical-care-tour. Just as I feared, turns out I can’t see a damn thing. My near, middle and far vision are all crap so I walked out of there with a prescription for progressive lenses. I’ve needed readers in increasing degrees of strength for about 5 years and I have reading glasses strategically placed all over my house, in my car, and in my purse. Kind of like the way I used to throw 10+ binkies in Girl’s crib so that whenever she reached for one, she’d find it. Boy never used a binky, but I would have paid a bazillion dollars to anyone who could have persuaded him to take one. I finally hit the max strength of drugstore reading glasses a couple of months ago, but what finally drove me to make the appointment was noticing while I drive that my far vision is rapidly deteriorating. Not good. So not good, in fact, the doctor told me I’d never pass my driver’s license renewal eye exam without glasses. I won’t bore you with all of the details involving my selection of frames, but it wasn’t a short or easy process. Shocker. For one thing, I CAN’T SEE. That complicated things immensely. Picture magnifying mirrors and my readers with sample frames on top. But also, I hated nearly everything I tried on and I’m highly annoyed I need to wear glasses all of the time, you know, IF I WANT TO SEE. But of course, for me, it’s not that simple.
I DO want to see when I drive or when I’m reading and writing or when I’m looking into the faces of my children and husband, but there are some things I DON’T want to see, like the crumbs on my kitchen counters or the dust on my hardwood floors. I’ve come to deeply appreciate that aspect of NOT seeing. And then there are some things I sure as hell do not want to see like the whiskers growing out of my chin, but I really should see them so I can take care of them before someone else sees them. I really should see skin cancer too. Finally taking a closer look at a “blemish” on my nose that’s been there since last fall sent me straight to the Dermatologist, stop 2 on my getting-caught-up-on-my-medical-care-tour. Waiting on biopsy results. So yeah, seeing is important. Even if you don’t want to.
What about the big things you see that others might not, or maybe they do see them but they turn their heads away because they don’t care or they’re caught up with their own little day to day crap? What if seeing those things and not being able or willing to ignore them because of the depth with which you’re wired or something leads your husband to tell you one night that we DO NOT need another cause to fight? Not because he’s heartless, but because he knows you and he knows you periodically have challenges in the moderation department and he knows those causes and your belief in the importance of SPEAKING UP about them are costly and interrupt your ability to stay present sometimes. And that interruption prohibits you from seeing and doing some of the little day to day things that in the end, might just be what your people remember you for when you’re six feet under? I HAVE NO FREAKING IDEA. But it’s a struggle, trust me.
So anyway, I ordered my glasses. They came and I hated them. I took them back the same day and had them put the lenses in the frames I almost chose but didn’t because I let the Optometrist talk me into something that was totally not me. Something a little trendier. What the hell? I’m 52. Why didn’t I listen to myself the first time? I have no idea, but it’s an ongoing theme and will make for some seriously juicy blog material on another day, to be sure.
I wouldn’t say I’m happy with my new frames, but I’m more satisfied. I just can’t get used to wearing them all day long. I wear them to drive, but the rest of the time? I pretty much feel like I’m stumbling home at 3 am from a college party. I have another few weeks to decide if I’m going to say fuck off to the progressive lenses and just get a prescription for driving and keep using my umpteen readers to read, use the computer, and find whiskers and skin cancer. I don’t know.
I guess it’s time for me to get some other crap done around here, but let me share this one last little nugget with you. If you’re not a Springsteen fan, you might not know I pulled the title of this post from the lyrics of the best rock and roll song on the best rock and roll album of all time, and unto the ages of ages, amen. BORN TO RUN. Well, guess what? I did.
Oh, and btw, LOOSE ENDS is the title of a very underrated Springsteen song, just so you know. Still giggling like a fool about that one. Anyway, I wish you all a good day as I sign off to continue tying up more of them.