One of the best things about summer in the burg is grilling out. My buddy, Mike Hall, of The Pines, has nothing on me! Ok, so he has the best barbeque on the planet — I’ll give him that. But I’ll bet when he sees this photo he’ll be really, really jealous. He may even cut his vacation short.
I’ve got it. The nasty thing that happens to your eyes when you get older. I struggle to read phone numbers on my iPhone when I dial from my contact list, and I have trouble reading pretty much anything with a smaller font than what is used for toddler books. I hate it.
What makes it worse is I dig sunglasses. My collection is huge and there probably isn’t a pair of Maui Jim’s ever made I don’t own. (I also like shoes but that’s a whole other post.) So my last optometrist put me in mono-vision contacts (using one eye to see up close and the other for distance), and I did ok until I lost the right contact and was too far past my last exam to pick up another. I pulled out the glasses, but seriously — have you ever tried to lay back on the couch and watch TV with bifocals? It’s totally impossible!
Today I’m wearing new contacts, and they are bifocals — a trial. Crazy, but everything is like in 3D. Words appear to rise above backgrounds when reading, and I can’t see shit far away. I was told I would get used to it, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to get used to not being able to see things far away, or my eyes will simply adjust at some point and miraculously I’ll be better than new. I’m hoping it’s the latter. In the meantime, this is pretty miserable.
“Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father I could imagine. I just want to say I love him so much.” No matter if you’re sick of the Michael Jackson coverage on every single available channel, or if you think he was a freak, or even if you think he was in fact guilty of the charges that he was acquitted of — if there’s a heart in your body, you had to feel empathy for the little girl that lost her father when she tearfully said those words.
Here’s a link to a pretty awesome post with a fresh perspective : An icon frozen in time
Check out the photos I grabbed today while visiting those pesky neighbors. They have absolutely nothing to do with Michael Jackson! Now where else can you get that??
Those 5 words are a few of Libby’s favorites — almost as good as Taco Bell and McDonalds. Isn’t it awesome how a simple photo can capture the personality and essence of its subject? Simple. Yet so cool…
It’s pure comedy to look back on, but what happened wasn’t funny at the time. To preface my story, let me tell you that I grew up around horses; therefore, I know all about electric fences. They hurt if you touch them, ok?
It was late at night, we had just assessed the upcoming work details on a group remodeling project, and were kicked back in the hot tub — that’s me, Perry and Ben. Libby loves it when people are in the hot tub — she sits on the step and never moves. She’s the hot tub guardian.
Me: (to Ben) Your dog is barking. If she would stay on the step like Libby, she wouldn’t have to stay in the house.
Perry: No matter how long we are in here, Libby never moves off that step.
::craaaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzz:: (noise like a mosquito on steroids when it hits a bug zapper)
*heads all turn toward the field*
Ben: Is that the dog over there?
Bailing out of the water in bathing suits, we sprint across the yard to find Libby hunkered down on the other side of the electric fence with horses and mules sniffing her. I’m calling for her to cross back into the safe zone on OUR side of the fence before a mule splits her brains out, and she’s looking at me like I’m nuts. She now knows the same thing that I’ve known for a long time — electric fences hurt if you touch them.
So I’m trying to shoo mules/horses away while still coaxing the dog into electrocution, and I’m thinking about grabbing her collar through this hot fence and dragging her back when I remember that I’m clothed in a dripping wet bathing suit. Everyone knows that electric fences hurt worse if you touch them when you’re wet. Just as I’m ready to make a fateful decision to either run down the road, into the neighbors yard and open the gate on his property in the middle of the night — or grit my teeth and do the shocking (heh) deed, Libby does a belly crawl under the bottom wire that would make the Army proud.
She ended up with a burnt stripe on her belly about 4 inches long, and a memory that will (hopefully) last forever. Now she simply watches those big animals from the safety of her own yard…
