Vision

I went to the eye doctor a few weeks ago. I really needed new glasses. I was hoping to get progressive bifocal lenses. The price they quoted me was over $100 more than I was prepared to pay, though. Ouch!

I was debating whether I ought to get a regular pair of glasses, or maybe cheap out by going to BJ’s for a slightly inferior pair. I think they realized that I was going to bail on them, so they told me that if I waited a week and also bought contacts, there was a promotion that would let me get the glasses at the price I was willing to pay. Basically, I would get the glasses plus the contacts for the price they’d quoted me for just the glasses.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted contacts. The eye exam for contacts is more expensive. Also, I can’t read when I’m wearing lenses for distance, which is really inconvenient. But the doctor said that what works for some people is to wear a distance lens in one eye and a reading lens in the other. It sounded like a crazy idea to me, but I found that it worked.

So I bought the contacts, too. I don’t know how often I’ll wear them, but it’s nice to have the option. They were pretty much free, so even if I don’t wear them, at least I didn’t sink a lot of money in to them.

As for the progressive bifocals, I didn’t find them too difficult to get used to. However, there are two caveats, as I recently explained to my husband. First, though I can read while I’m wearing them, I can’t see as close up as I’d like, so I still sometimes need to remove my glasses. Also, as I move my head from side to side, the view in the periphery gets a little bent out of shape. This was the hardest part to get used to. It made me nauseous at first, but I’ve adapted. I still sometimes notice this “fun-house” effect, but it doesn’t cause me any trouble.

So, I’m happy now to be able to see better. Good vision at my age doesn’t come cheap. It’s most definitely worth the money, though!

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Another Today

Today…

  • I printed my latest work project so that I can give it a final check before sending it to Typesetting. It wasn’t quite done, but the finished parts were in good shape. Considering all the time off I’ve taken lately, it’s a miracle that the issue was even ready to print. I’m giving myself a big pat on the back.
  • I’m still thinking about Monday, when I took the day off to help my mother-in-law, who had driven her car off my driveway and into a tree. I went to the hospital with her to make sure she was OK (which she was, thank goodness). She’s mentally shaken, but physically fine, and probably raring to get behind the wheel again so she can pick up the milk and bacalhau that she wasn’t able to get on Monday. The jury is still out on whether the car or the driver was at fault. I hope for her sake that it was the car. But if it wasn’t, then this accident probably means she’s reached the age at which it’s no longer safe for her to drive. Because she had come over to my house to give me my birthday present early, I’m feeling really bummed about the whole thing.
  • I voted in the Democratic primary. I don’t always, but I felt I ought to this time around. Mostly I voted for the status quo, though not entirely (my apologies to the incumbent mayor). In particular, I wanted Sheldon Whitehouse to be on the ballot in November. He’s Rhode Island’s senator, but I think it’s in every American’s best interest for him to keep his Senate seat.
  • My hubby says he found out that mangoes are related to poison ivy and that they can cause reactions in people who are sensitive to poison ivy. I don’t find the relationship hard to believe (I’m pretty sure that both raspberries and apples are related to roses), but I refuse to now be afraid of mangoes.
  • I ate an orange. Oranges are probably not related to either roses or poison ivy.
  • And now it is time for the kids to start getting ready for bed. I will go hide in my bedroom and hope that my husband takes care of things.
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Guess Who’s Calling

We get so many scam phone calls these days that we don’t answer the phone unless we recognize the number on the caller ID. Each scam call shows up on the caller ID as a phone number and associated town. I like to guess which “town” is calling. Tonight when the phone rang, I guessed “Tiverton,” but immediately changed my answer to “Coventry.”

Ten points to me. It was Coventry.

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True Story

Today I was working on a puzzle with a baby theme, and in it was the phrase “tiny hands,” and I had to remove the phrase so that no one would think I was talking about the president.

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The Weather

It was hot, and it was hot, and it was hot, and it was really hot, and then all of a sudden it was chilly, and I was like “Wha?”

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Just Say No to Pron

I get enough spam comments now that I don’t usually read them before deleting them, but one caught my eye the other day. It was an advertisement for a “pron” site. I know that spam is typically full of misspellings and typos, but “pron?” They couldn’t even spell that one word right?

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Two Books, Two People

I finished two books recently that belong together, so I must review them together.

The Diary of a Bookseller by Shaun Bythell, Grade: A-

Three Things You Need to Know About Rockets by Jessica A. Fox, Grade: B+

I became interested in these books because of the setting (a bookshop in Scotland) and the real-life story going on in and around it. In Three Things You Need to Know About Rockets, Fox visits a Scottish bookshop, falls in love with owner (Shaun Bythell, called Euan in the book), and moves in with him. In The Diary of a Bookseller, Bythell writes about his daily life selling books and occasionally mentions his girlfriend (Jessica Fox, called Anna in the book). I will try to keep in mind that these are real people as I review the books, but I still have to be honest.

I read The Diary of a Bookseller first. This book encompasses one year from Bythell’s life, a record of the notable customers who came into the shop, his expeditions to buy new stock, and his relationships with his friends, family, and wacky employees. I thought it was funny and informative, which is why I gave it an A-level grade.

As for the downsides, a few bits didn’t ring quite true, and his descriptions of people occasionally came across as mean (to me, anyway). I felt that the author always kept a careful distance, and I was sort of puzzled by the way Anna came and went without much reaction from him. Though the brief epilogue and the sprinkling of quotes from George Orwell’s “Bookshop Memories” helped give the book some unity, still it seemed to need something more to hold it together and to soften the abrupt ending. Those are all minor points, though. I would recommend the book to anyone interested in the book trade, particularly anyone who secretly (or not so secretly) harbors a fantasy of owning their own bookshop someday. A bookshop is most certainly a labor of love and not anything close to a goldmine. Good to know.

Three Things You Need to Know About Rockets began with a list of three things you need to know about rockets. Those things were interesting, but I honestly have not taken the effort to ponder how they relate metaphorically to the story of Fox’s adventures in Scotland. The reason for that is simple: I did not love the book, and I was relieved to reach the end.

There were times when it was excellent, and it began well enough. It started with a Jewish-American woman, originally from the Boston area but living in LA, having a vision of a bookstore in Scotland. She decided to go to Scotland for a longish vacation.  She managed to get herself invited to stay with the owner of The Bookshop, a used bookstore in Wigtown, Scotland and to attend the annual Wigtown Book Festival. Scotland was wonderful. The people of Wigtown were wonderful. The books were (and presumably continue to be) wonderful.

By the time she returned to LA, she’d fallen for Euan, and he’d fallen for her, and soon she returned to live with him on a longer-term basis. And it was all grand for a while, but it was not long before she felt something missing. She’d given up everything to be there, and he’d given up nothing but some space in his life, and he seemed uncomfortable with even that much. She was persistently unsure of how he felt about her, and for most of the book, I wanted to scream at her, “He’s just not that into you!” I guess I had started to think of them as real people, and I had become disappointed in both of them: her for throwing herself headlong into a relationship and putting it ahead of her own needs, and him for being so stereotypically British in his “dithering” and lack of overt emotional response.

Isn’t that terrible of me? But that’s the thing about reading a story that you know is at least partly true. It’s possible to start to think of the people in the story as real. But though these people might actually exist, you see them through the lens of someone else’s mind, not your own eyes, so they must be treated always as fictional characters. You cannot tell a fictional character what they ought to do. A character is always going to do exactly what he or she must do, and that’s the way it has to be. So I’ve forgiven Jessica/Anna and Shaun/Euan for not quite giving me the “real-life Scottish fairy tale” that the subtitle of this book promised me. It’s not their fault.

I also thought the story faltered in other ways, but rather than pick it apart, I’m going to tell you what I really liked. Every chapter started with a quote from another book, along with the location in Euan’s shop where that book might be found. She picked some intriguing quotes, and in this way she did a better job of selling his books than he did. So thanks, Jessica. I want to go on a reading binge right now.

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Cozy in Scotland

The Cracked Spine: A Scottish Bookshop Mystery by Paige Shelton

Grade: B

I’ve been bingeing on books about bookshops. You wouldn’t think there would be that many, but there are. This particular one is a cozy mystery about a woman named Delaney, who gets laid off from her job at a museum in Wichita, and then answers a wanted ad looking for “a bold adventurer who would love to travel the world from a comfortable and safe spot behind a desk that has seen the likes of kings and queens….” The only catch is that the job is in Edinburgh. Delaney is interested, though. After a telephone interview with the bookshop owner, a wealthy Scotsman named Edwin McAlister, she decides to take the job, and without much ado she moves herself to Scotland.

What Delaney does not mention to her new boss is that she has a special skill. It’s something like an eidetic memory that only works for dialogue from the books she has read. She hears the characters’ voices in her head, and she can even find books that have gotten lost on the shelves by following the sound of the characters talking. Intriguing.

She arrives in Scotland and everyone she meets, from the cab driver to her new coworkers, is extraordinarily nice and potentially interesting. Two characters have matching, partially-concealed tattoos that could have special meaning. Located at the back of the bookshop is a mysterious warehouse full of things that are probably antique and worth a bundle. Why else why would they be in a warehouse that is locked with a special blue key that must be turned three times to open the door? Her boss probably acquires such things when he’s at the secret auctions that only he and a very select group of rich people are invited to.

But Delaney’s special skill for hearing book characters disappears somewhere in the middle of the story without her ever having really used it, and no explanation is given for its disappearance. We never find out any more about the tattoos. She hardly goes into the warehouse, so we never find out what’s in it. She attends only one auction with her boss, and the only purpose it seems to serve is to introduce three characters who ultimately have little to do with the mystery (the murder of her boss’s sister).

So, the story had a lot of potential, but it didn’t live up to the potential. The author has apparently written five books for this series so far, and it’s possible that the sequels are better. I would consider reading another just to see, because cozy mysteries are such quick reading, but I would not go out of my way to find one.

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How to Water a Captis

Dear Kids,

A few months ago, you each got cactus plants. One of you wrote down instructions for watering it.

How to Water a Captis: Get a teespoon fild wif waoter and waoter him once evree mounth.

I know it’s silly, but I love that you thought it was a “captis” instead of a “cactus.” When you were younger, you both made similarly adorable mistakes all the time. Now that you’re older, your endearing little mistakes are disappearing by the day as you perfect their understanding of the language. You are growing up and growing beyond your need for us.

But I still occasionally find notes like this one, and then I have to decide whether to throw it away or keep it. I cannot possibly keep everything that I think is cute. Neither is it enough to simply toss the note into a box. Unless I do something now to feature the item and put it in its proper context, then it will become just another piece of paper in a box of dusty, old papers, and I might not even remember why I thought it was so cute.

So that’s why I’m featuring the note in this letter to you. I think it’s wonderful that you wrote the instructions down. Often you’re absent-minded and cannot remember something as simple as washing your faces in the morning, and you don’t really want to, either. But at other times, you are so very serious and want to be responsible, and this note shows that. Plus, I love the written word, and I’m happy to see you become writers, too, even if your magnum opus is just a description of how to take care of a captis.

Love,

Mom

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Four More Times

The kids went to the dentist for a check-up earlier this week. The dentist gave my husband some shocking news: Marshall has only four baby teeth left. Now the Tooth Fairy is sad, because she will only be able to visit Marshall four more times. 🙁

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