The lens of fate

Hello loyal friends. We could make this a post about how much I suck or you can just let me lay it on the line. I suck. I truly believe its going to get better. I could try to explain where Ive been but it would really not make sense to anybody but possibly Gill and Madame Fabu because my reasons for absence would sound obscure and stupid to everyone else but I assure you they are entirely real and 100% logistical. (no crisis or illness or even lack of motivation to blog. Its there my friends. I am just having pure logistical problems) In lieu of describing them in tedious detail (too late? Im so sorry!) I will allude to them with a small tale. Let me preface the tale with disclaimer that I am here not because I have solved the problem but because I am braving these severe logistical conditions because my dearest sega continues to be a rockstar in every way and has expressed the need for updates. Ok so here is my little morality play.

Did you ever have one of those moments in time when you are involved in something and you are about to take an action and a very loud voice in your head is yelling “THIS IS A VERY BAD IDEA!”? Ok I know several of my realtime friends (Luckybuzz comes to mind in particular)can relate to this both about themselves and about me re: the late 80s and early 90s. Im not talking about THAT kind of bad idea. Im talking about the kind that happens when you are absorbed in an activity that requires you moving between several different rooms and are spontaneously approached by your two year old to take off your glasses. As you take them off and put them somewhere that is cognitively identified by you as “NOT A SAFE SPACE” (but not identified in terms of specific location of course…), you immediately stop thinking about your glasses and your two year old’s sudden interest in them.

Needless to say, I had this type of moment on Friday morning. I did not think about my glasses at all until several hours later when Gill and I were in our bedroom cleaning and Gill suddenly said in a very alarmed tone of voice “Crse.” I look up and he is holding one lens that clearly belong(s)(ed) to my glasses. Friends, it was like finding a human hand belonging to someone you did not even know was missing. Frantically we started tearing apart the bedroom. We dissembled the bed. We emptied drawers. Of course I flashed back to that moment in time (still believing for some ludicrous reason that the glasses were still where i left them despite the clear dismemberment that took place). Nothing. Friends, we looked as much as we could Saturday. We literally tore apart the furniture in the living room in a desperate attempt to find some sort of forensic trail of evidence. Nothing. At one point, I even tried a trick that actually worked on Norm when he was the turnips age.

“Baby? Will you help mommy find her glasses?”
“Do you know where mommy’s glasses are?”
“YOU help mommy find them?”

Cut to Sunday night and I am reliving the moment over and over trying to remember what the hell I was doing when it occurred. Bonsai calls me. She is somewhat stressed because she went back to school and because well…she lives with my brother which would require anyone to need sedative medication. I am telling her the story to cheer her up. (She does enjoy her nephews so). And I am stretched out on my bed and Im looking at my exercise bike which is about two feet from me. I suddenly remember Gill mentioning at some unrelated to frantic searching moment on friday that the bike sounded like something was stuck inside. Yup. Guess who’s polishing his fine motor skills….


14 Responses to The lens of fate

  1. Jay says:

    It’s probably a good thing that I don’t wear glasses because I’d be losing them all the time. I have enough trouble keeping up with sunglasses. I’m always leaving them somewhere. Like, just a week or so ago I left my sunglasses in the men’s room at a truck stop in Bolivar, Missouri.

  2. Stinkbait Boucher says:

    I apologize for finding your story amusing yet do so disingenuously. This made me laugh. In the long run I hope you find that the memory is worth a pair of glasses and a week or so of impaired vision and blinding headaches.

    If I had a nickel for every time I’ve said that…

  3. luckybuzz says:

    I cannot wait to see what the Turnip settles on as a career choice. I’m just sayin’.

    And I’m glad you’re back. 🙂

  4. The Mistress of the Dark says: are too blind to blog. that’s a good excuse 🙂

  5. Maggie says:

    omg crse, this almost made me spit out my OJ.

    And btw, it’s not the quantity of the blogging. It’s the QUALITY. And yours is always Grade AA.

  6. RockDog says:

    Is it wrong that I’m laughing at your expense?

    Have a good week!

  7. adjunct whore says:

    …it was like finding a human hand belonging to someone you did not even know was missing…

    you remain the funniest fucking blogger around. & maggie is right: quality, not quantity.

  8. Lucy says:

    Thanks sweetie. I needed this blog today.

  9. Lisa says:

    Yeah, what everyone said. I missed you. Stop going away at random times. Please post when you will be away so I don’t get all lonely and whatnot.


    ps: so . .. what happened witchyoglasses?

  10. gretty says:

    I’m truly sorry about your glasses,
    they were cool, but the turnip is coming into his own and must be obeyed or else this kind of thing is bound to keep happening.

  11. Canada says:

    I’m just ever so glad that mu kids are 7 now (and I bet you’re pretty happy that the Turnip doesn’t have a twin!)

  12. ZigZagMan says:

    As I’m watching TV after having read your post…..I caught a whiff of a foul and mysterious odor.

    This baffled me as I was pretty sure it was not me, and saw no reason anything else would produce this kind of waft..

    Curious..and confused, I had to find the source….which I did. My lovely daughter had decided a snack was in order…opened a can of spaghetti….ate half of said can…then hid said can under an end table..

    11 years old and she already prepping for college life!!! 🙂

    It gets better…probably…have a good week buddy!!! 🙂

  13. crse says:

    Jay- I missed you. Im going to soon declare a Jay day for myself

    SB- No worries Sir. Sometimes I openly guffaw at your stories that might not be the most comfortable from your perspective. Jury duty comes to mind…secretly? I am proud of his talents.

    LB- Im only sort of back but I promise im working on being back. Funny you should mention the career choice. I have an entire post about the turnip trauma of yesterday (don’t worry aunt LB, trauma he CAUSED)

    MOTD- thanks!

    Maggie- I seriously do feel that way about my readership too. I may not have many readers but damn you guys are quality! Coming from you this is a big compliment.

    Rockdog- Baby, thats what Im here for. I havent been to the neighborhood yet this week so Im assuming the show is still on Friday? Because Im prepping for raucousness!

    AW- EXACTLY what i said to Maggie May. And I blush gratefully!

    Lucy- baby i was going to call and see if things were ok. When you read the post after next about how your nephew totally kicked it up about three notches, you will understand why i didnt get to the phone. If I dont get to it, when the spotted red carpet catches your eye on friday, ask me about it.

    Lisa- Baby Im sorry! I never know I am going to be gone until I am. You have my email right? I am putting off visiting you because I know I wont be able to go post by post. Im going to want to read it all at once! And comment on everything! I PROMISE i will be back baby.

    Gretty- You are an artist.Look at the carpet on Friday.

    Canada- That would be like being under martial law.

    Zig- You’re awesome. I dont know why I found this strangely comforting.

  14. Pippajo says:

    “…like finding a human hand belonging to someone you didn’t even know was missing…” Pure Gold!

    Once upon a time, Red Headed Snippet had glasses to correct a potentially lazy eye. Being the offspring of me and The Viking and also only 5 years old at the time, she promptly lost them. We looked everywhere. Begged and pleaded. Gone forever. Until Spring came and my mother mowed the lawn in her back yard. Fortunately, we were covered by Lenscrafters’ free replacement policy. I took the remains to the store in a small brown paper bag and, without a word, dumped the twisted metal and shattered glass fragments on the counter. The nice young man looked at the mess in front of him and gasped, “I’ve never seen anything like this before!” I simply said, “The lawn mower won.” She got new glasses and the threat of being forced to wear an “idiot strap” on them if she ever took them off outside again.

    And I am so glad you’re back! Though I find the idea that you need to be able to see to type kind of suspicious.

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