The Christmas Gift

My siblings and I stopped swapping Christmas gifts a few years ago so we could focus on spoiling each other's children instead.  Since we've made that decision (and since I have no children of my own, ie. much more free time then the rest), my tradition has been to make something for my two sisters and brother.  This usually ends up being some sort of compilation of the pictures and/or home videos I'd taken of their kids throughout the past year.  (I'm not a knitter or at all into potpourri.)  However, this year's crop of photography came up short on some kids with an excess of others, and barely any home videos to boot.

Then, while skimming through some of my mom's old photo albums featuring us as kids, I came upon the "brilliant" idea of scanning our old family photos, restoring them as best I could and burning each sibling a DVD so we could all have access to the family albums.

I'm still convinced this was a brilliant idea, but seeing that it's now January 14th and I'm not done yet... it may have been an overly ambitious one.

Here's some things I've learned about photo restoration.  (P.S. I'm not working with any fancy-schmancy Photoshop or professional computer program.  Just the basic editing tools that came with my standard Windows Vista package.)

1.)  Black and white matte photos from the 1940's-60's are a dream to work with!  They scan great and crisp up real nicely with a little contrast and sharpening help.

2.)  1960's-70's color matte prints spruce up great too!  Alot of these seemed to scan with a purplish tint though, so tint and color adjustment can be necessary.  Faded prints can be brought back to vibrancy with contrast and saturation adjustments, but sometimes this can lead to a Warhol-esque effect.  (I kinda like that though...)

3.)  Once the film world turned to glossy prints, aged photos got a lot trickier to deal with.  I'm finding glossy prints from the late 70's and entire 80's to be a bit harder to fix the color on.

This is with full green tint!  You should have seen the "before"!

 4.)  Some faded prints are impossible to work with.  No amount of contrast, sharpening or color work seems to fix the pea soup wash that doesn't want to leave.  With these, I'm just turning down the saturation (to lessen the pea soup effect) and sticking with the faded look.

5.)  80's film sharpens nice, but once you've sharpened facial features with happy results, you'll see a thousand scratches that have accumulated over the years and every trace of Scotch tape that your mom used in making the album.  This is when I discovered Windows Live Photo Gallery has a "retouch" editing tool (and there hasn't been an honest zitless, crow's feetless picture of me published to Facebook since this discovery was made.)

Scotch tape and dark curtains that show every scratch. My mortal enemies!

Wood grain furniture with plaid cushions.  A retouching tool's nightmare!

1985, the year of the unicorn.  AND, dark denim that shows every scratch!

This one restored nicely, but was simply too cute not to share.

And, that's where my progress has left off.  In the middle of the 80's with a scratch-removal induced migraine.  Three-and-a-half albums down, half of one to go!

Well, I guess I could use this three-day weekend to get back to work on the project instead of just blogging about it.  Then maybe my siblings will get to see the finished product by the time the Easter Bunny comes around.

If you have a scanner (mine's just an el cheapo from Target) and any basic photo editing tools, retouching your old photos is not out of reach.  If you're not sure what your basic computer system has to offer, open one of your recent digital pictures and click "edit" to see what options it gives you.  "Sharpening" turned out to be my biggest savior, but I know some older versions of Windows only have the basic Contrast/Saturation/Tint, etc. package.  Wonders can still be done with these basic tools!  All you need is a little free time to experiment and a bucket-load of patience.

Once your old photos are downloaded to your computer you can share them with the world!  Or, just your family, or hog them to yourself... it's up to you.  The kids love it when I burn an album to DVD so they can watch themselves on tv.  Having your pictures digitized opens the door to emailing them, uploading them to your favorite sites, or simply restoring them so you can print off new copies for framing or scrapbooking.

Alot has changed in the picture-taking world since we were young.  But, to me, photos of any kind are still the greatest family heirlooms.

Mob Wives

Ba-da-bing! Mob Wives has finally returned to VH1 for its second season. Too classy for this stuff? Fugetaboudit!

Okay, I've run out of New Yawk slang, it's safe to keep reading now.

There's a certain fascination my generation has with mob tales. Maybe it's not just my generation, but modern America altogether. We've all seen The Godfather, Goodfellas, Casino... Some Like it Hot, even. Mafia entertainment has even been watered down enough to create it's own comedy genre (The Whole Nine Yards, Analyze This, Mickey Blue Eyes, for goodness sakes, starring Hugh Grant. Talk about watering down the genre!) 

 

 

Well, VH1 has taken Mafia tales to a whole 'nother level... Reality.

The movie world would have us believe the whole crime world is a real hush-hush matter. You'd never guess it watching these ladies in action. We've got:

• Renee - daughter of Bonnano family honcho. Father, incarcerated.   Ex-husband, on-and-off incarcerated.   Ex-husband, Junior, actually appears on the show. With an actual slice wound scarring his face from eyebrow to cheekbone. Talk about "real"!
• Karen - daughter of the infamous Sammy "The Bull" of the Gambino crime family.   Father, incarcerated. Many ex-loves, incarcerated from time to time.
• Drita - (Pronounced "Dree-ter" when using a proper Staten Island accent.)   Husband, bank robber, incarcerated.
• Carla - Husband, incarcerated during first season, but released by the season's end.   It's also alluded that Carla also grew up in "the life".
• Ramona - New addition to season two.  "Lefty Guns" granddaughter and the worst name-dropper of the lot. (She'll be sure you know she's related to that Lefty Guns, of Donnie Brasco notoriety.)

Last season's drama was that Karen was writing a tell-all book on growing up a mafia princess and how terrible that lifestyle is.   I don't know if the book deal fell through, or if she's just doing a terrible job of marketing it, because season one ended with her in a knock-down drag-out kitty cat fight with some stew of the other girls (it's hard to remember who's fighting who in these matches. It always starts with two, but ends up with everyone in a pile of broken heels, fingernails and ripped out hair extensions.)  And, this season opened with a brawl so epic, it had to be broken up into two episodes!

For reformed princesses, there's a heck of alot of "Do you know who I am?!", "I'll kill youze!" and "You know my blood! You KNOW my BLOOD!" being tossed around.   (That last one's a threat of making sure the fightees remember her blood line, not blood type.)   They all brag about having put each other "in the hospital" in the gossipy recap sessions, but the only Wife we've actually ever seen in the hospital was Renee after a botched body lift.   Maybe "hospital" is just street slang for the salon where they get their torn weaves sewn back into their tracks at.

Crazy?   Yes.   Dangerous?   Probably.   Entertaining?   Hellah-yeah!

What the incarcerated family members think of this display, we can only imagine.   I can't guess that Drita's husband is proud of her constant bragging and laughter over the fact that she's married to a bank robber.   "ALLEGED bank robber!" I can practically hear him screaming at the prison rec room tv set.   "ALLEGED... you idiot, I'm up for parole in six months!"   All of the mob daughters have been shown dropping their daddy's names all over town in order to scare their way into better tables at restaurants, proper respect on sidewalks and Renee even used this tactic to get her dance on with a squeamish bar-mate last season.   Respect, they say.   Mmm-hmm, it's scare tactic.

Whatever.   The veil has been lifted.   Be you, Mob Wives!

(And, if any of youze has somehow found your way to my blog-site... remember, I'm a fan of the show!   I, just said, "Be you!", didn't I?   Much fear... er, I mean "respect"!)

Mob Wives airs on VH1, Sunday nights.

Resolution

Now that I've made my new year's resolution, I'm finding it harder and harder to blog and update Facebook.  I resolve the same thing almost every year; to be nicer, less judgmental, to block out gossip and to try to say something positive when a conversation turns negative.

This year's difference is that I made this resolution in December, back when I was still lying sick in bed feeling as if death became me, and I found myself in a week-long bartering session with God.  "Why am I not getting better?",  "No one else's illness is lasting this long?",  "Are you trying to teach me something?",  "What did I do?",  "I will be faithful like Job, but do you realize I feel like I'm dying?", "Alright, if you heal me I promise I'll really try to be a nicer person."  And, then I started to heal.

Yeah, so this trade was intended to impact only my personal sphere of human beings... But then, by default, I found that each time a celebrity would go and do something dumb/weird/gross/off-the-wall, at the point that my snark usually kicks in, I'd run to update my FB status and find myself not being able to hit the "Enter" key.  I've literally gotten as far as typing out a hilarious comment (that was sure to get at least ten likes and five LOLs) and then found myself at the mercy of an immediate spiritual twinge that took control of my arm and made be hit the backspace key.  Delete.  Delete.  Delete.

Oh boy.  Celebrities are people too?  I'm screwed.  I even willingly let my People subscription run out!  I even skipped The Soup AND E's Fashion Police this week!  I even felt sorry, when flipping past one of those Kardashian shows, for Kim and her romantic codependency condition!

I guess my resolution has just taken on new life this year, when elevated from just a good thought to an actual promise.

There are a few other things I've learned in the last year that I like to try to carry in to the new one:

• Stress is unavoidable, only the way you choose to handle it is in your control.
• It's okay to watch only comedies if that's all you're in the mood for.  There's no need to force yourself to sit through any form of entertainment that scares you, depresses you, grosses you out, makes you feel weird inside, makes you cry when you're not in the mood for tears, or anything else that seems like a waste of your time or that just isn't your cup of tea.  No matter how many awards it may win one day or how many friendly recommendations you've been given.  This goes for music, books and tv too.  Sorry, American Horror Story!  No offense, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo!
• Fresh air is like nature's vitamin supplement.  Be sure to inhale a recommended amount daily.
• Too many months of glasses wear has officially killed my vanity.  I don't even do my hair every day!  (Yes, I comb my hair everyday.  I just throw it in a ponytail much more often.)  Makeup, also, has become strictly optional.  Not sure if this is a good or bad thing yet.
• I have finally reached the point where I can honestly say, "Okay, I really do own enough clothes."
• I tried some new foods and didn't like them.  The curiosity is over and I never have to eat them again.  At least I tried!
• Go to the doctors while you still have insurance.

I thought the biggest challenge of 2012 was going to be wading through that puddle of job stress.  I'm now beginning to think it might actually be finding ways to make you guys LOL, without compromising my resolution.

Cheers to my trying!  Hang in there with me!

2011 Highlight Reel

What can I say about 2011?  It started out as one of the happiest years ever and ended with merging crap-storm upon crap-storms, all combining to create one giant fecal tornado.

They say the Lord never gives you more than you can handle, and I know that this is true.  He's proven it to me time and again.  It's just sometimes I wish He'd let me rest in my 2010-level of strength for a little while longer because, most days, I feel just about growed-out.

Although 2012 brings with is alot of uncertainty (and uncertainty is not my specialty) I know the Lord is laughing to Himself right now because He knows all the answers to the mysteries that lie ahead.

On this last day of the year I will try my darnedest not to let job-stress, health-stress or all-around-grumpiness taint my memory of the almost late, great, 2011.

After all, we did have all this fun:

Polar bear water ballet:

Communing with nature:

Foot-fishing (A hobby to be categorized under "Things Only an Aunt Would Let You Do"):

Fundraising Fun:

March of Dimes - March for Babies

New found appreciation for sports I thought I loathed:

Animals!  Animals!  Animals!

Dinosaurs!

 Dinosauria @ The Detroit Zoo

Cranbrook Institute of Science

Enjoying our favorite staycation spot over and over and over again:

 The Henry Ford

 Loving more of Michigan:

 Which includes bridges...

 ...boats...

 ...roadside Americana...

 ...rickety attractions much too high up in the air...

...all worth it to get this image of my nephews in print.

And a whole bunch of good ol' fashion family fun:

As, I bid adieu (ie. "good riddance") to 2011, I'd also like to thank you all for supporting An Aunt's Life this past year.  It's been another highlight to add to my reel and I wish you all blessings in the coming new year.

May the Lord be my rock in 2012 and my family be my happy pill.

Why I Don't Hate Santa

Santa Claus is coming to town.  Or, is he?

I never believed in Santa Claus growing up.  Being raised in a Christian household, my parents worried that once we found out "the truth" about Santa, we might also be mistaken that the Baby Jesus part of Christmas was also just a myth. 

I never minded this decision.  They still let us play along with the Santa games.  Gift tags under the tree would be signed by him (complete with the irony that his hand-writing looked suspiciously like my mother's.)  I didn't care who was bringing the presents, as long as they came!  And, we'd still get to go visit him at the mall every year to sit in his lap get our free candy cane.  I would never even tell him what I really wanted.  I knew that information was useless in the hands of a complete stranger.  I would just blurt out a generic answer like, "doll!" all the while fixating my attention on the elf with the peppermint stick prize in her hand standing at the exit gate.  It seems a little creepy now that I would willingly sit in a man's lap, that I knew wasn't Santa Claus, just for the free candy.  But, I guess candy canes were harder to come by when I was six, so it was okay. 

And, of course, there was the added fun of getting to ruin the Santa secret for all of my friends who did believe, no matter how much my parents lectured me not to.  (I guess here would an appropriate place to apologize to my grade school friend, Julie, for breaking the news that the jingle bells she heard Christmas Eve 1981 were most probably being rung by her older brother.)  I was a very practical and logical child.  It would frustrate me to have playmates that were too naive to take a look at the cold hard facts.

As I became an adult, I was still indifferent to the harm of believing in Santa Claus.  Plenty of Christians I know use him as a part of their Christmas celebrations.  But, then way on the other end of the spectrum, were the ones who claim that it's my spiritual obligation to "hate" him.  Maybe these are people who took Charlie Brown's lesson of commercialized Christmas-ism to the nth degree.  But, the one argument that helped me choose a side on the great Santa debate surprisingly came from an episode of Seventh Heaven.  One of the P.K.s (that's "pastor's kids", for the unchurched) had someone ruin the Santa secret for them on their very special Christmas episode.  And, like my parents predicted long ago, the child started questioning the reality of Jesus's birth as well. 

Well, Reverand Camden, being the wise soul that he was, sat the wee one down and found a brilliant happy medium.  He told the story of the real Saint Nicholas.  The historic St. Nick was born into a family of great wealth.  Upon his parents' death at his young age, Nicholas could have been set for life, but instead chose to share his wealth with the needy.  He eventually gave away all of his earthly belongings and became a bishop in the Christian church.  He was imprisoned during the Christian persecutions, but later released and continued on with his ministries.  The story of Saint Nicholas became elaborated throughout the years and he somehow, eventually, became mystified as Kriss Kringle and then Santa Claus.  So, as Rev. Camden would explain, St. Nicholas is a wonderful figure of Christian charity to accompany our celebrations of The Nativity.

This episode of Seventh Heaven is probably a decade old by now, but it fortunately stayed in the back of my head.  Because a few years ago, during one of my Bible lessons with my brother's kids, the confusion of Jesus/Santa/Christmas arose and Reverand Camden's message came rolling out of my mouth, much to my surprise, but with great thankfulness in my heart.  I even soon found this child-friendly animated version of the story of St. Nick that has now become part of our Christmas movie viewing tradition. (Click link for DVD info.)

So, at the end of this Santa-searching journey, my Christmas verdict has become crystal clear.  Jesus is the true reason for the season.  But, please don't ask your kids to hate a saint.

Sick as a Dog

Now, when I say I'm as sick as a dog right now, I'm referring to our family dog who is presently dead and buried under the garage of my childhood home.  That's how sick I feel.

Yes, that little stomach bug from a week-and-a-half ago was "just getting warmed up", as my doctor tells me.  It's now here, full-fledged, waving colored flags and parade-marching across my skull.  Not only do I feel as if I've been poisoned and beaten from head to toe but, being hypoglycemic, I also get to experience the sensation of being electrocuted every time my adrenal glands realized that my insulin levels are sub-par due to not being able to keep any food in my stomach.  Joy!

Oh yeah, and I'm also dehydrated, so I get to taste the drying skin that's peeling off of my lips 24/7.  And, I'm down to having only six hours of paid time off for the remainder of the year, which needs to be reserved for my remaining eye doctor appointments.  (Yep, still dealing with that!)

However, I'm trying to remain Job-like and finding ways to praise the Lord in my illness.  So, on that note, I'll focus on:

• My doctor took me off work for the rest of the week starting yesterday.  Thinking of those meager remaining six hours of time off I'm yet allowed the schedule off for the rest of 2011, I was blessed to already have today scheduled off as a vacation day.  Happy little accident found in my year's worth of vacation time that I scheduled back in January.
• My dehydration is at the serious level, but still one step away from being severe and putting me on an IV in the hospital.  Which means I get the chance to try and rehydrate from the comfort of my own flannel-sheeted bed.
• There's been lots of interesting weather to watch out of the window that's conveniently placed at the head of my bed.  Yesterday was in the high 50's (unheard of this time of year in Michigan!) with wild windstorms that I got to watch blow miscellaneous object to-and-fro across the backyard.  Today I woke up to cheerful sunshine, trying to lift my spirits.  Thank you Sun!
• My left eye, in the midst of all of this, is gradually starting to get it's vision back.  Hoorah!
• My sick days butt up to a weekend, giving me two extra days healing before I must return to work.
• My computer desk is located right next to my bed making this post possible.  Because, trust me, if my desk were two steps further, I wouldn't have made it!

Yeah, things could be better, but they could also be much worse!

Now I just need to ask for some prayers that I'm better by Monday.  I can't take any more time off and I'm committed to covering for a friend at work so she can be off Monday and Tuesday.  I'm still not able to eat anything and the hydration process is coming along very slowly.  Also, pray that my blood-sugar levels will find some way to maintain.  This is my Christmas wish!  (And, gee, I thought I wanted a Kindle Fire and a kitten this year.)

On that note:  Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's back to bed I go!

***Please also excuse any typos or punctuation errors... There is currently not enough nutrition going to brain to be concerned with proof-reading.***

Ebay Pet Peeves

Being under the weather this week, avoiding stores this time of year and being just an all around lazy person... I've found myself prowling around Ebay a little too much lately.

I go through phases where I absolutely must have as much 99-cents-with-free-shipping jewelry from China as I can possibly get my hands on.  Or, I feel I suddenly need to revamp 50% of my wardrobe while staying deeply beneath retail price.  Or, I've read through every book I own and need to restock.  (Ebay's Half.com is perfect for this!)  Or, sometimes, I just feel like there's too much Disney memorabilia out there that's begging to come live on my shelves.

Well, this has been one of those weeks.  Which has found me wasting hour upon hour on the auction site.  Which has presented me with the following list of Ebay pet peeves:

• Categorizing tube tops under the fields "Long Sleeve" and "Sweater".
• Posting a picture of an item of clothing which is spread out across an entire dining table, to fully display its amount of girth, and then having the nerve to also advertise it as "Sexy!"
• Saturating an item of clothing with any kind of perfume before shipping it.  Any kind.  Even if you think it's your "best" perfume.  I don't want to smell it and I certainly don't want to smell like it.
• Leaving a used tissue in the pocket of a clothing item before shipping it.  (Yes.  This has happened.  Took every ounce of willpower not to mention in my feedback.  "Great communication, fast shipping, seems to be suffering from cold or allergies.  Yes, I got your tissue!")
• Not listing the materials listed clothing are made of.  Yes, some of us shoppers have allergies.
• The fact that every adorably unique piece of clothing from Japan or Korea has my measurements falling under 3XL on their size chart.  (I'm an 8/10 here in the states.  Pre-holidays, at least.)  And, Asia never seems to have my ginormous size in stock.
• The need to list items as "Super cute", "Adorable", "Sooo hot" or any other adjectives attached to outdated and itchy-looking clothing.  Post a picture, I'll decided on the adjectives.
• Not posting a picture.
• Pop the head off of that mannequin with the early 80's feathered hair and blue eyeshadow.  It's ruining the whole effect of your photo.
• Don't say something is a "Medium" if you're going to post a picture of its tag which clearly reads "XS".
• "Vintage" does not equal five years ago.
• Pink is not "Red", Cranberry is not "Red", Burgundy is not "Red", Coral is not "Red" and Brown is not "Black".
• While we're at it, Mid-thigh is not "Knee length" and anything with an entire chest peep-hole should not be categorized as "Wear to Work".
• A knee-length gray hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with "LA" should also not be listed as a wear-to-work dress. Unless you're assuming we're all janitors at the Staples Center.

Well, that's all of my complaints for today.  I love my Ebay too much to bring up any more!  If you're an Ebay seller, please take note of the above constructive criticisms.  And, before you try to label me as a shopaholic, just keep in mind, my newest outfit probably cost less than your last Saturday night out.

"Wear to Work'?  Only if you earn your wages in singles!

Zynga is all up in my Facebook!

I love playing games on Facebook.  I don't even use any of my other PC games anymore, because it's so much easier just to click on a Facebook link and start playing, disc-free.

I've had my farms, my zoo, my city, my frontier, my military operation, my puzzles, my islands and my games shows... but the same thing always ends up happening.  Zynga goes and gets all up in my Facebook!

Anyone who's ever played a Zynga game knows exactly what I'm talking about.  You get your plantation, city or kingdom pleasingly populated and decorated, and suddenly you find yourself  unable to progress any further because ten friends must send you twenty different meaningless items before you can move on.  I'm presently waiting on "mystery meat", "rusty keys" and "regal hoes" (no joke) before I can progress in the two games I'm currently obsessed with, Castleville and Adventure World.

There's nothing more annoying than a wall full of game requests.  But then, there's nothing more addicting than a new Facebook game, so we make that compromise.  It's a quick way to get unfriended and unneighbored too.  Believe me on that!

So, as I soon as I get so successful in a game that the only challenge remaining for me is to pester my friends on a thrice daily basis (or pay actual dollars for the convenience of bypassing the friend-nagging. Augh!), that usually becomes the indicator in which I block that game.  Such a waste!

If only the farms of my past were real.  I'd be a millionaire!  And, my zoo was so awesome that I recall obtaining even mythical and extinct creatures for my collection!  I almost feel so confident in these skills that I could see myself applying for a zoo director's position in the real world.  "What kind of experience do you have that would qualify you to take over as our struggling zoo's Chief Financial Officer?"  "Well, have you seen how many coins I've earned on Zooville?" [slides over paper with coinage penciled on it] "And, I'm pretty sure if you would add a Pegasus and some dodo birds to your collection, you'd start to see things turn around, for sure."  Their jaws would drop.  I'm positive.

But, all those skills gone to waste because a game, that should have remained between me and my PC, had to spread like the plague and effect everyone on my friends list.  Who knows what kind of Commander in Chief I could have become!  My success on Empires and Allies came to a screeching halt once I ran out of people to battle and materials that could only be provided by others.  And, I was thisclose to becoming the next Donald Trump.  If only, Cityville hadn't had a dozen neighbor-begging missions being demanded of me all at once.  I mean, my city had even begun to stretch across the river!  Do you know what it takes to build a bridge?!  But, oh well, I'm pretty sure that even The Donald refuses to have that much interaction with his neighbors.

Every few months another old game gets blocked, only to be replaced with a new game that's just been released.  It is fun to start again somewhere from scratch.  Once you've cleared so many trees and built up so many buildings in their place, success starts to get a little boring anyway and it just becomes time to start out on a new endeavor.

They say the average American will have seven career changes in their lifetime.  The average Zynga-player?  Probably thirty.

**Would this be a bad time to ask if anyone wants to be neighbors on Disney's Gnometown?  There's a woodland creature trapped in a locked box, and he can only be released with two neighbors' help!  Yes?  No?  It was worth a shot...** 

Holy Eyeball!

So, you've noticed I've been on a bit of a blogging hiatus.  All due to yet another pain in my eye.

Apparently, when I inflicted the scratched-up eye damage from a couple months ago, the damage was done to both eyes.  Problem with that: Only one eye was hurting at the time, therefore, only one eye got treated. 

Sooo, now my previously untreated eye has grown an ulcer large enough to make two grown men eye doctors blurt out hideous noises of fright upon first sight of it.  Large enough to make men whinny, but small enough to only be seen through a opthamolgist's microscope.  (Believe me, I've tried looking for it!)

I'm told it's an atypical ulcer because I'm not writhing in pain.  Apparently, my lack of writhing means I'll need to see a corneal expert if things don't start clearing up by Monday.  That should have been my cue to start "feeling" something torturous, therefore placing my ailment back on the typical scale, but I've always been one to miss my cue.  Maybe I just have a high tolerance for pain and  maybe for that I should be rewarded.  But, seemingly that's not how things work in the world of opthamology.  They like textbook.  I've never been textbook.

 

Strangely enough, ever since I drove away from the doctor's office, I've had the annoying sensation much akin to having a very large man is sticking his very large thumb into the top of my eye.  I'll have to remember to mention that on Monday, just in case it's some backward-to-me sign of progress.

I've been in glasses for about a month now, and you should know how that goes based on previous posts.  Besides still adjusting the the constant weight on my---already weighty---nose,  I'm having trouble getting past the notion that I feel I must dress much preppier than I'd like for the time being.  Glasses equals prep to me somehow, and this is one prep rally that has gone into overtime and needs to be ended real soon!

I keep finding myself on Ebay bidding on cable-knit sweaters that I suddenly feel I need.  (Although, I really could use some new sweaters, since Michigan winters get mighty cold.) I'm beginning to think the ulcer may spreading to my brain.  I keep finding myself stopping for a moment on the busy Cosby-era sweaters, and so have concluded that the hole has swallowed up the 00's and late-90's portions of my cerebrum.  If these eye drops don't start working soon, I may find myself on my next Ebay hunt for this jumpsuit from my past.

I'm the little one.  Don't worry, though, I inherited the bigger version by the early 80's

At that point I'll know the 80's portion has been swallowed up as well and the 70's is sure to be gone next.  That might be my time to start looking for a whole 'nother kind of doctor as well.

Well, my double and triple vision is starting to return now and I can't really tell what I'm typing, so I guess that means it's time for another dose and I'll make it an early wrap tonight.

If you ever hurt/scratch/upset your eye, or if it ever just doesn't "feel right", go to your eye doctor right away!  There's no sense in waiting, unless you too want to see how a hole in the eye can make a grown man whinny. 

And, if you feel so inclined, would you please remember my little eyeball in your bedtime prayers tonight?  It would be much obliged.