Monday, August 9, 2010

Wanna hear something horrifying?

What you are looking at is a modern art installation created by my daughters. I would like to think it is their statement about the mundane, everyday world we live in, or perhaps some kind of protest against the amount of diapers we litter the earth with. I know my statement when I saw it was something along the lines of, "What the heck is this? GIRLS!!??"

But that is not what is horrifying. What is horrifying is...

You can get an ulcer on your eyeball. That’s right…ON your eyeball. I know this because my husband has one on his. What we thought was a sty gone horribly wrong, turned out to be an ulcer that came within a bazillionth or something of permanently impairing his vision. The doctor thinks it was caused by sleeping in his contacts. He wears the kind that you are supposed to be able to sleep in, but apparently his eyes said NO and that was that. Now after more than $100 on antibiotics, whatever we have to pay for the dr. visits and eye exams and more than $250 spent on a pair of prescription sunglasses (husband can’t wear contacts for now and hates how he looks in his coke-bottle prescription glasses) that he will apparently only wear for as long as he has to (who says women are the vain ones?) he is feeling better. I am happy he is not in pain and I am annoyed at eyeballs that are so darn precious that they just can’t do what they are supposed to. BAH.

We spent most of Saturday dealing with the eyeball.

As to Sunday…

Small but lovely harvest (I already et the maters and didn’t share)

Grape jelly from the previous grape harvest (husband is suspicious and says it looks like beans. He ate his toast with butter this morning).

Birthday chocolate chip cookies for Uncle Tim (a special request he made to Miss Z. She helped a lot).

Cute girls on computers (ahh the age of technology).

And that is about the long and the short of it. Except that the fonts are all squirelly cuz blogspot is acting a fool on me.

Take time to enjoy the summeryness of Summer.

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