because life doesn’t fit in a file folder

How My Son Discovered The Opposite Sex

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Around six weeks before school ended, Tech got glasses.

About two days later, he discovered girls.

I know this because at six weeks before the end of the academic year, I had printed out all the addresses and stuffed all the envelopes to be sent to everyone who was invited to attend his bar mitzvah.

“This is it,” I said, pointing to a 3-page list. “See that box over there?” I tilted my head towards a grey cube filled with envelopes. “Those are the people who are invited to your bar mitzvah. I’m taking them to the post office tomorrow, so you might want to take one more look. It’s your last chance to make any changes.”

I was thinking omissions. Cuts.

As in: That-kid-is-a-jerk-take-him-off-the-list.

Tech eyeballed the list and looked at me in horror.

“Where are all the girls?”

Had I handed him the wrong list? I peeked over his shoulder. No, it was definitely the same list we had reviewed two weeks before. The same list he had given his ultimate super-duper stamp of approval.

Tech’s voice went up two octaves. “None of my girl friends are on the list!”

Then he barfed out ten girls’ names I’d never heard before.

Ever.

“They have to be invited!” Tech waved his hands wildly. “Why aren’t they on the list?”

I wanted to tell him that he had never mentioned these girls, that the only girls he’d ever named in his life were the people connected to the families on the list.

But I didn’t.

We simply went through the school directory and gathered the extra names, addressed the additional envelopes, and affixed a few more stamps.

After we delivered the invitations to the post office, Tech and I sat in the car. His guard is often down in the car. I figured I’d give it a try. “That was a good snag on your part,” I smothered my son in compliments. “It’s weird that so many people weren’t on that last list. How do you think that happened?”

Tech had his nose in a book, so he spoke absently.

“I’m not sure.” He turned a page. “When I got glasses, a lot of blurry people suddenly came into focus. I guess I thought they were already on the list.”

He says he thought they were already on the list.

I say he had a testosterone surge with a side order of corrective eyewear.

Whatever.

In the end, nearly all of his friends – young men and young women alike — attended his bar mitzvah.

And he was beyond happy to celebrate with them.

How old were you when you noticed the opposite sex? And what do you remember about that time in your life?

Follow-Up To The Cat-Eye Post

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Reading glasses
Image via Wikipedia

I recently wrote about how I was struggling to find new glasses as a new eyeglasses wearer at age 40-something.

And — surprise! I got to reconnect with Andra, the person who inspired the post! {weep}

Meanwhile, I have to tell you my favorite read of the week came from Susie Lindau.

So if you have a moment, check out her recent blog post: “How Patsy Ramsey Ruined My Life.” It’s not about what you think.

Probably.

 

My Cat-Eye Glasses

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When I was in elementary school, I had a really good friend named Andra.

We did everything the same.

We dressed the same.

We picked out the same books on our Scholastic Book orders.

We asked our mothers to pack us the same lunches.

We even got chicken pox at the same time.

image by dorriebelle @flickr.com

Then, Andra got glasses.

She looked so cool in her cute cat-eye frames.

I soooo wanted to look like Andra in her cute cat-eye glasses.

I told my parents that I couldn’t see the blackboard.

That bought me a ticket to the ophthalmologist.

He tested my eyes.

As it turned out, I saw better than 20/20.

He told me that I probably wouldn’t need glasses for years.

I think I kind of wanted to stick my tongue out at him.

But I didn’t.

Eyeglasses always seemed like such a cool fashion accessory.

So anytime there was an opportunity to dress-up, I would wear pretend glasses.

You know, the kind without lenses.

Then I turned 40.

And suddenly, one day, I was looking at a menu in a restaurant and I couldn’t read anything on my menu.

All the words looked really blurry.

I was all: “What the deuce?”

I asked my husband if we could trade menus because — obviously — mine had been printed badly.

And then I saw that his menu had been printed badly, too.

And I was all: “How can you even read this?”

My husband looked at me knowingly.

The next thing I knew I had a prescription for real life reading glasses.

I was all: “Whoo hoo!”

And then I started my search for the perfect eye-wear.

Who knew it would be so hard?

There were so many choices.

And a lot of stuff was just plain ugly.

Which made me feel ugly.

Which bummed me out.

Friends suggested I find a pair of glasses that I really love, so I didn’t feel as though I’d lost my mojo.

So I started collecting glasses.

And I’ve accumulated quite a collection.

But none were quite right.

Recently, I saw this cute pair of gray cat-eye frames, and I thought of my old friend.

How fun are these?

I wonder what kind of glasses Andra’s wearing nowadays.

Because I’m thinking I have to get these in black.

And purple.

Do you wear glasses? How do you feel about them?

Tweet this Twit @rasjacobson

My Reading Glasses: Revisited

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I’ve had my reading glasses for over a year now. At first, if you’ll remember when I posted about new glasses, I was suffering with the concept of how the damn spectacles represent that my eyes are getting older and that, by extension, I am getting older, too. I’m getting used to the concept. Some of you suggested that I try to find a pair of glasses that I really love, so I don’t feel as though I’ve lost my mojo.

Well, I’ve been trying. So here’s what I’ve got:

My actual prescription pair.

These are okay. They are kinda boring though, right? Anyway, this was my starting point.

Round?

These turned out to be some weird, unintentional tribute to John Lennon. So. Totally. Not. Working.

Do I look like a sexy librarian? Hmmmm. Not so much.

These are a vintage pair of specs from the 1960s that I picked up at a local street festival for $2.99. I like them a lot, but the burnt-orange finish is peeling off.

Okay, this pair is a hoot. Emergency purchase. On the way to school one day, I realized I did not have my glasses. Question: How would I ever be able to read all those English papers without glasses? Answer: I wouldn’t. So, I stopped at my local Walgreen’s and snagged whatever I could find in my prescription. There were two choices. I grabbed this pair and, without ever trying them on, made my way to the register. This pair cost about $15. In the classroom, I realized the frames were completely crooked, and no amount of bending or manipulating would make them sit right on my nose. That was a long day. (These glasses now live in our downstairs library. And by library, I mean, bathroom.)

These are my Drew Carey‘s. They are quite awful, but in a weirdly fabulous way. I really like them. I mean, I know I look like my dad in 1963 – but I actually think they are kind of hot. I think I am starting to love them.

My son used these for Halloween when he dressed as Harry Potter – about 6 years ago. They are useless, of course, seeing as though as they are completely lens-less. Still, if I could find a real pair in hot pink or apple green, I might be persuaded to go for them. 😉

I’ve decided that finding the perfect pair of reading glasses is kind of like dating: While searching for the right fit, I’m enjoying all the different types out there. And who knew there would be so many different types out there?

Making Peace With Reading Glasses

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photo by kiwikewlio @ flickr.com

 

Allow me a vanity moment. It has happened. My husband – an ophthalmologist – warned me that the day would come, and it finally did. I now have reading glasses.

It happened quickly. One day, I was churning through my students’ papers unencumbered, and the next well . . . we were sitting at a restaurant and I was complaining about the fuzzy print on the menu.

“Fuzzy print?” husband asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “Can I see yours?”

He generously handed over his menu.

It’s blurry, too. I’m confused.

“Time to make that eye appointment,” he guffawed.

Six months later, I have reading glasses stashed all over every corner of my life: the night-table drawer, the kitchen desk, in the computer room, in the library (read: bathroom), in my car, in my purse. None of these reading glasses are pretty as I purchase them in Val-U packs of three (or more) from Target. I have this one pair of thick black frames that I would never wear in public because when I wear them I seriously look like Drew Carey‘s sister.

I have to admit, I feel notably less sexy with my glasses on. I’m sorry, but it is true. I would rather look smokin’ hot in my red dress and stumble into the dessert table at somebody’s wedding than wear my glasses. And I don’t need them for distance, so I can’t wear contact lenses — and I am not a good candidate for LASIK, so you can stop right there with those suggestions. I am simply a latent hyperope. I don’t exactly know what that is, but it sounds very high-maintenance. Apparently, there is nothing for me to do except try to “make nice” with my new reading glasses.

“Eventually you are going to need to be fitted for a lovely set of bifocals,” my husband recently teased.

Alas, I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. 😉

What surprises have you learned about yourself as you’ve grown older?