Fall back

Ooops I did it again.

I'm actually not a clumsy person, but you wouldn't know it from this post. Or this one. Subconsciously it may be because I believe in the rule of three more strongly than I thought, because this will be the third post I've done about me falling hard and flat on my back like a ton of bricks.

Fat, Jewish bricks.

Here's what happened.

I was minding my own business, doing award-winning, crowd-pleasing, results-getting, competition-killing, raise-worthy work at my bedroom desk for my 100% remote job with the world's leading cybersecurity company. In the course of that vitally important work, I make it a point to stay hydrated.

As one does.

Since it was just after noon, I started out to the kitchen to see if there was something good hiding out in the fridge for lunch. But before I got there, I turned around and went back to my desk to clear two water glasses (see hydration above) and put them in the dishwasher.

Are you with me so far? We're coming up on the part where the hardwood floor breaks my fall. And almost my back.

As I reached for the glasses, my very fashionable yet reasonably priced Vionic flip-flops got caught between the plastic desk chair mat and the area rug it overlaps. I started falling forward, water glasses in hand. Then I thought, let's see if I can put my early years as a danseur with the New York City Ballet to good use—if I turn, maybe I can slow my roll by grabbing the edge of the bed. The glasses went flying from my hands. I tried grabbing the bed and missed, which isn't easy cause that sucker is a two kids, two adults and two dog accommodating California King.

Thanks to the inertia, momentum, velocity and enormous amount of gravity at work, that giant thud you heard a little after noon PST today was me.

As luck—my luck—would have it, I was home alone: my daughter has a big time advertising job and had to go into her real office to work, and the wife had to take our German Shepherd Ace to the vet for some blood work. So I laid there a minute on the floor, my back screaming every swear word it knows at me, and tried to figure out how I was going to stand up.

The answer was fast. I sat up, grabbed the bed for leverage and got myself up off the floor. With that one move, it quickly became apparent my back wasn't going to be done swearing and screaming at me any time soon.

Just like my high school girlfriend.

Fortunately I had an acupuncture appointment this afternoon, so I managed to lower myself into my thirteen-year old Lexus ES350 (I really need a car with higher ground clearance) and went. And instead of working on my feet (long story, another post), he worked on my back.

It felt better for a little while afterwards. I don't know if it was physical or mental, but you can say that about most things with me.

So tonight, it's the heating pad on and off every twenty minutes, trying to keep the grunting sounds every time I move to a reasonable volume and not moving around too much. With any luck it'll start to feel better in the morning, and I'll be in for a quick recovery in the coming days.

Of course, the bad news is my Cirque du Soleil audition is off for now.

The eyes have it

I've posted before here about my annual eye exam to make sure my retina isn't detaching. Which I'm happy to report it isn't. My eye doctor is the guy, the premiere retina and vitreous tissue specialist in the country. And I love seeing him (no pun intended) every year. He's incredibly reassuring, and just generally awesome.

In between my annual retina check ups, I visit my also stellar optometrist at least once or twice a year, because my vision changes so quickly. In fact it's gotten worse since you started reading this post.

The bad news is my eyes are unusually sensitive, not to mention piercing: like looking into a deep, brown, knowing ocean and seeing answers to questions you've always been too fearful to ask, yet knowing the essence of your soul has been seen and reflected back at you.

Where was I? Oh yeah. What I'm saying is even a one degree change in my prescription, and it's new glasses all around.

My favorite part of the exam is the phoropter. It's the refraction measuring machine in the picture up on top that, when placed in front of your eyes, makes you look like you're going to a masquerade party. Or you're a borg.

While you have it on, the doctor keeps changing out lenses and asking "which is better, one or two?" Changes them again. "Better yet?" And again. "How about now?"

I think it'd be great if there were also a phoropter for other life decisions. Spouses, homes, cars, kids, dogs. Something that would give you a picture of what you're getting, and the chance to make it even better.

Of course, not everyone answers the "which is better?" question the right way. Sometimes it's hard to see the difference no matter how long you stare at it. But by then it's too late, your choice has been made.

Which is also the exact moment you realize hindsight is 20/20.

Through the looking glasses

I got new glasses over the weekend. This may not seem like a particularly big deal to you, but the fact is I’ve worn my same glasses for more years than I can remember.

It’s not that I’m slow to change, it’s just I have a hard time finding a pair of frames I like.

My old ones were smaller on my face. Not John Lennon granny-glasses small, but small. However over the years, my face - along with the rest of me - has gotten, shall we say, fuller. And my old glasses were looking less like glasses and more like a vise squeezing my head to pop my brains out.

At least that's how I saw them.

Fortunately for me, bigger frames are all the rage now, so I finally found a pair of Ray Ban 5225’s that fit me perfectly. Big, wide lenses. Stylish design. Distant borrowed cool from Risky Business. Cheap as hell on Amazon. Everything I was looking for.

When I came in to work today, I have to say I was expecting much more of a reaction than I got. After all, I’d worn the same glasses for years, and the new ones were distinctly different. Everyone seems to notice when I get a haircut. Or a new shirt. Even new shoes. Since they notice those little things, I was braced for a barrage of complimentary comments about my new glasses. I mean they’re right there on my face.

Instead of a slew of comments, I only got one – from my friend and sometimes art director partner Kurt who happens to have the exact same pair I got. Except his are blue and mine are black (Surprise!).

I think the lesson here is don’t go looking for compliments or attention. I need to just be happy that - after years of trying on frames and checking the mirror to see how they looked except I couldn't see how they looked cause I need my glasses to see - I finally found some I like.

Besides, exactly when did I start giving a damn what other people think? Oh, I remember: it was the 12th of never.

As anyone who knows me will tell you, once you get past the sarcasm, cynicism and general skeptical nature, I'm basically a glass-half-full kind of guy. And I've managed to find a silver-lining to this shocking lack of attention.

Apparently I have a superpower I didn’t know I had. For only $450, I can make myself invisible.