You know you're blind when...

You know you are blind when...

1.You have to take pictures of yourself trying glasses on to know what you look like in them...

2. You can't see the signs in the grocery store telling you what is in the aisle.

3. You can't read the concourse numbers in the airport until you've already walked the whole way to stand under the wrong one.

Well, they say my prescription is mild, I hate to think what really bad vision must feel like. I'll be glad to get my new glasses if for nothing else but to feel better driving.

I arrived safe in sound, praise God, to Md. The first flight was the tightest flight (read sardine cans came to mind)I've ever been on. I was glad my seatmate was a lady since we really were joined at the hip, and elbow, and leg. Thankfully, no seat belt extenders were needed (-: The good thing about a tiny, hot cramped first leg of the journey is it makes you feel like you are in first class when the second (albeit shorter) leg finds you in an aisle by yourself, in larger seats, in one that reclines (who knew the seat in front of the exit row doesn't recline) It was whohoo time for me.

I did note that the quality of light in the sky flying into the dusk, was gorgeous. Also the view flying into Reagan (on the left side of the plane) was spectacular. That said, the concourse I arrived on was so dingy, the parking lot so poorly lit and somewhat desolate, I can see why they have to bribe folk with cheaper flights than going to BWI.

Saw something new to me driving back with Son in Law Joe (he lets me drive, bless him) We came to an exit ramp, where about 10 feet AFTER the information would have been helpful , a sign said "alternate merge." I thought, what??? lets see, is that a merge for aging hippies? freethinkers? (yes ok it didn't say alternative" but it was still Greek to me, and again, way too late to be helpful) Joe said it's like the verse in Ephesians, each of us to consider the other better than ourselves, but in D.C I think it means, whoever is the most aggressive and willing to risk life and limb, goes first.

When I arrived, my dear daughter had made me some Chicken Korma on a lovely Sweet Brown rice. Joe poured me half a glass of Pilsner. (Tasted like the Busch beer of my youth) And I enjoyed a lovely hot shower and crisp fresh bed linens. Ahh, so nice.

I may have killed my fish today. I was taking him out of his glass abode, with my hand (I can't seem to get him in the net) and he squirmed out and fell to the counter. I struggled to pop him back into the bowl only to have his tale knock against the glass rim. My friend Erin who is fish sitting, has a 48 hour reprieve on "blame" if he dies. I hope he doesn't. We've grown rather attached. Of course I won't "blame" the dear girl, come what may.

Glenn told me his grand-daughter Emily, said to him, "You want to see my ballet?" And then after a short performance asked her Grampa "you want to lift me over your head and spin me in the air?"

OK, I've rambled enough...just entertaining myself in the quiet house while I wait for east coast time to sink in.