Lessons Learned By Confusing Contact Lens Wetting Solution With Cleaning Solution

Friday morning I was relying on habit
(the bigger bottle is the wetting solution)
rather than remembering the times are a-changing
(the bigger bottle also has a red lid, signifying cleaning solution).
Oooooooooooops.

Lessons learned:

• Little suction cups for stubborn lens removal aren't cheap.
• Contacts can act as bandages. The pain gets worse when you take them out.
• Chemical burns heal more slowly than abrasions.
• Eye patches don't make pirates say, "Arrrrrrgh!" But pain might....
• Eye patches need to be pretty thick to keep your eye closed.
• One eye really wants to do what the other one is doing.
• If I go blind, one of the things I'll miss most is reading.
• When walking blind, shade is an indication you're about to hit a building.
• Depth perception really is dependent on a two-eye system.
• Eyes react even when they're closed. They move at changes of light and sound.
• Eye surgeon friends who check up on me are a blessing.
• If it doesn't get worse, it's probably getting better.
• I'm vainer than I thought. I wore sunglasses to church.
• I'm thankful to get back to the normalcy of one eye smaller than the other.

And, on an unrelated topic, nail polish on a bug bite sometimes makes the itch go away.

Sue

...And the Not-So-Nice Campground

On June 30, we were in Anchorage, Alaska.
Aside from two Wal*Mart parking lots, we found only one campground.
It was Centennial Campground,
run by the city of Anchorage.
At the end of a substantial detour,
we found it.

"You can have any campsite for $20--
tent or RV. $20!
...but not these campsites, they're for RVs."

The campsite we chose was mislabelled,
but the check-in girl can't read the campground map anyway.

"Hey, look! Period tents! 'The Society for Creative Anachronisms'."

Den put up our little tent about 100 feet away
and settled down to read about
Billy Mitchell falling into a river at sixty below.

While planning the next day's trip to Seward,
I began to people-watch:
a long-maned man in a plaid bathrobe with baggy pants tucked into tall, tasseled boots,
a little girl moseying past a sign marked "Slow,"
a man in tights and an embroidered shirt,
a woman in a thin medieval velveteen dress and a dollar-store crown....
We greet them, but there is no response.
An orange-coated woman with run-away hair walks by,
turning around to argue loudly and in great detail.
There is no one behind her.
The thought occurs to me to look at her through the binoculars,
but I decide against it.
I go for a walk instead.

One bathhouse is closed.
The other is filthy.
Thank goodness for Crocs.

There's a man with a truck filled with many gas cans
walking past the "no cutting" sign
with an ax.

A loud-rap-music truck with a keg in the back pulls into a site.
People pile out,
dance for about four minutes,
then get back in and leave.

What are they doing around that dumpster?

This place may be the south end of a black hole going north....

It's almost eleven o'clock,
but still lots of daylight
and there's road noise,
kid noise,
generator noise,
creative noise,
anachronistic noise.
We decide to pack up the tent and sleep in the back of the truck,
which is a great idea,
because by morning it is raining.

We get a quick shower,
find a church,
and make a friend
who invites us to camp in her driveway the next time we come through Anchorage.
We do.

Where was a memorable spot you wouldn't return to?
Sue

The Girls

When I was young my father took me turkey hunting. I remember the early mornings sleeping in the pickup truck as we travelled to the mountain. My father would locate where the turkeys were and choose a few natural obstructions to hide behind in the area. We would arrive with flashlights and then secret ourselves until the turkeys came. On one particular occasion I remember falling asleep on the ground behind a log while my father called patiently to see if a gobbler would respond. It was familiar territory to Dad, he'd hunted the area since he was a boy, and we were set up just right. A gentle nudge from Dad and a whisper to get ready got my heart pumping as I knew he'd seen the turkeys and was watching. Suddenly he rose up from behind the log and the Winchester blasted. By the time I'd gotten my gun up the turkeys were just running out of sight. Dad was baffled. "How'd I miss that bird? I can't believe I missed that bird!" And just then a branch of a witch hazel bush that was growing there fell over, shot through by a 12 gauge blast. What a laugh we had.

Over the years my father and I had mixed success with the turkeys, lots of different places and lots of different memories, but when I went off to college, our turkey hunts ended. I've picked up the sport in the last few years. There are a couple of friends who are serious about it and they've piqued my interest again. These days I don't sleep in the truck on the way to the hunt. I am the one locating my spots and choosing where I set up for the hunt. I'm often the one with the call and the one listening and watching as the birds approach (or don't). I generally don't fall asleep during the watch, generally not. Words don't come to me to describe how much I enjoy sitting in the woods watching it come alive in the morning because on occasions like that my father is still always with me. The girls will come in, cautiously, testing my skills, and it always makes me feel like a kid again.

Well, this summer the girls are coming in again. Twice a day the flock passes through the yard. I've been feeding them faithfully and they are faithful to come. Sue and I have watched four hens raise their 25 poults right under our noses this summer. Tonight we sat quietly in the hot tub as they ran to the yard, scratched up their dinner, and then mosied off towards the barn, only to return again to be sure they'd finished their meal. The young ones still haven't totally learned the game, they are hilarious to watch as they dust themselves under the pear tree, nestle down in the grass, flap their wings, fly up into the grape vines, and scoot away to their roosting spots with no worries. The matriarchs watch over the young ones carefully and lead them away each night to roost safe and sound out of harm's way.

Couldn't help thinking about what my dad would think if he were sitting in that hot tub with me tonight as the girls came in. But he was. I learned my excitement for the natural world from him. He'd think it was so cool to see the girls, and it is. Cool because it brings me joy to remember sleeping behind that log and laughing with him when he missed.

Hey dad, the girls are back.

Denny

A Favorite Campground

We've found a favorite campground!
It's secluded and quiet,
with wild animals like turkey and deer that the manager feeds daily.
Showers are free, as is the laundry.
The place has swings for the kids,
some great climbing trees,
and a nearby stream to play in.
There's a great swimming hole within a five minute drive,
and the campground has a hot tub to relax in
while you watch the stars and meteors.
Barbeques are held regularly.

Actually, the campground used to be even better.
Fifteen years ago, it had a dog, a cat, a sandbox, and lots of toys.
On a camping trip,
the boys were sooo excited when we described it to them,
then sooo ticked when they found out it was their home.

*Ahem.* Come visit us.
We love company!
And we won't even make you sleep outside.

Sue

PS. Next time, a not-so-favorite campsite....

Technology Shapes the Future

Have you heard that diabetes may be cured by nanotechnology?
That lifespans are expected to soon jump to 120 years?
That universal translators will end the need
for learning foreign languages?
That reading and writing may no longer be necessary
as everything will be available auditorially and/or visually?
That walking may provide power for your personal technology,
and walking on sidewalks provide power for cities' energy needs?

Last week I met one of the school's tech teachers
who filled me in on those possible future developments.
It was fascinating and exhilarating and disconcerting.
What if nanotechnology has unwanted side effects?
If there are glitches in translation that cause miscommunications?
No readers... reminds me of the pre-Wittenburg era.
If living beneath power lines causes cancer,
wouldn't making your own power have similar risks?

I'm thankful that I'm not in charge of the brave new world,
and that the God of the heavens, macro universe
is also God of the atoms, micro universe.

It will be interesting to see what the future brings,
and find our role in it.
I'm sure it will still involve love.

Sue