Range report: Slick shot edition

Mike says . . .

In which I contemplate slicing open my eyeballs with a laser

First off, thanks to everyone who commented here!  I was sitting at my computer yesterday morning, bleary-eyed, and a little petulant.  “Why didn’t anyone comment on my Meditations post?  It was a good post, wasn’t it?  I thought it was good!”  Then I checked in this morning to find that my comment-pouting had been rendered completely unnecessary.  Thank you to Jay, Mike W., Shoothouse Barbie, Weer’d Beard and Borepatch.

And on to the topic of the post:  I’ve scheduled a Lasik appointment for January.

I’m so excited I can’t even TELL you.  The idea of waking up in the middle of the night and being able to clearly see my surroundings is fantastic.  I mean, yeah, there are other things to look forward to — not having my contacts dry out on airplanes, skipping the morning-and-night eyeball-poking routine, avoiding the agony of catching a dirt spec underneath a contact, etc. — but that’s the biggie.  I want to be able to roll over and tell whether the guy in my bedroom is my husband or The Big Bad Wolf.

And to do that, I am perfectly willing to take a Valium, have my eyelids held open a la Clockwork Orange, and trust a machine to slice into my cornea and reshape my lens.

I’m just the trusting type.

If you consider the cost of buying and maintaining soft contacts, the cost of Lasik will eventually balance out over many years.  That being said, I was very hesitant about adding the surgery to the household expenses.  In fact, whenever Mike brought up the subject I firmly dismissed it with a “Maybe some day, that would be nice” judgment.  It is my very good fortune that he did a bit of research and discovered that, in fact, the surgery was NOT the $10-K-per-eye that I’d imagined; it’s more like $2K.  Still, that’s a BIG purchase, and — unlike vacation funds, or saving up for a replacement car — the benefits would accrue solely to me.  So still I was reluctant.

Mike solved my problem by generously offering to fund my surgery out of his “allowance,” in exchange for a year’s worth of gift-giving.  Actually, that’s not quite how it happened.  When we started seriously contemplating Lasik as something I could do sooner rather than later, I mentioned that I CERTAINLY wouldn’t need any birthday or Christmas or whatever gifts for a year.   Mike decided to take me up on that throwaway offer, and therefore gave the gift of allowing me to do the surgery guilt-free.  He’s a sweetheart.

Countdown to cutting open my frickin’ eyeballs with a frickin’ laser:  57 days!

P.S.  We’re going with Custom Lasik rather than regular Lasik, on the recommendation of Mike’s friend J (he had PRK surgery).  As J put it:  “I’d rather have my eyeball sliced open based on a custom print of my eye, than based on whether 1 or 2 looked better.”  Right on.

UPDATE: Marko links.  Thanks!

MINE ALL MINE

Up (4 Disc Combo Pack with Digital Copy and DVD) [Blu-ray] (2009)

Starring: Edward Asner, Jordan Nagai Director: Bob Peterson, Pete Docter Rating: PG (Parental Guidance Suggested) Format: Blu-ray

// // 4.3 out of 5 stars See all reviews (174 customer reviews) //

 

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List Price: $45.99 Price: $19.99 & eligible for free shipping with Amazon Prime //

Okay, so, it belongs to Mike too — after all, he’s the one who bought it (thank you sweetie) –  but it’s still MINE ALL MINE.

I *LOVED* this movie when we saw it in the theaters.  I thought it was a super-sweet tale about courage, romantic devotion, and life-worth-living.  I can’t wait to watch it at home, where I’ll have a full box of Kleenex and therefore Mike and L won’t have to scavenge their pockets for popcorn napkins to stem the deluge.

Of course, I got home too late last night to watch it.  And tonight is choir rehearsal.  And tomorrow I’m going to meet a friend for dinner and then there’s Gun Nuts.  *whimper*  MINE!!!!!

UPDATE:  Jay G also got the UP DVD.  I agree with him that it’s a seriously heavy movie for little kids, especially if they haven’t been introduced to the whole “death” concept yet.

Odds ‘n’ Ends

On the way to the Shootout at the Jay G Corral:

LISSA:  (spotting cows) “Moooooooo!”

MIKE:  “Oh, are there doggies?”

LISSA:  (completely blank)  “Whaaaaaaa?” (Long pause.)  “Ohhhhhhhh.“

***

Sunday was one of those Patriot games I’m quite, quite sure was better seen on our TV than live-in-person.  After a while, though, it just got sad.  Why don’t they have a Mercy Rule in football?

***

Is there a MA law about buying more than one gun a month?  I vaguely remember such a law, but I don’t know if it’s applicable here.  Anyone want to save me the Google-fu?

***

Mike got inspired by the wretched weather this weekend and attached plastic insulation sheets over our screen doors.  The living room does seem warmer and less drafty!  Of course, I am smart enough to tell Mike that, regardless of whether it’s true.  My one big regret was that I didn’t have any beer in the fridge to hand him afterward.  So sorry darlin!

***

Tried a new recipe from my favorite cookbook (thanks Mom!)!  Lessons learned:

1) Stuffed chicken is YUMMY, but takes longer to prep than I thought it would

2) Broccoli rabe is DISGUSTING.  It is NOT the same as broccolini.  It tastes like stale, bitter broccoli with a dash of quinine and a touch of mold.

***

We did it.  We waited until the cat was sleepy and unsuspecting and then we shoved him into the Mickey Mouse costume.  Pix will be ready for Halloween!!  (Jen from Wisconsin — you should TOTALLY dress Elvis up like Elvis!!!!)

Happy Tuesday!  Don’t freeze!

More Disney!

Funny thing — I absolutely HATED roller-coasters when I was growing up.  They scared me to death and I’d miserably whimper the whole time if I had to ride one.  Sometime in high school it changed over, and now they rock my socks.

We went over to Disney Hollywood Studios the second day and, thanks to the super-short lines, accomplished our business in short order:  We rode the Tower of Terror once and the Rockin’ Roller Coaster twice.

Adrenalin rush accomplished, we went to Ireland for a snack:

That’s right, the International Food & Wine Festival was on at Epcot.  We shared a tiny lobster-and-scallop pie (topped with whipped potatoes instead of pastry — weird), a little cheese plate and a petite cup of honey mead.  We didn’t want to eat too much before Mission Space!  (Weer’d Beard — of COURSE we went Orange.  What do you take us for?  )

We visited Nemo and his aquarium . . .

Cuttlefish says, "Don't let Mario Battali near me!"

. . . and then met up with Mike’s parents, who live perhaps an hour away from Disney and therefore have annual passes.  The four of us wandered about, eating and drinking and stopping to watch the occasional show.  (Such as the Voices of Liberty concert, a snippet of which I posted Monday.)  We also stopped to watch a show with a “chef”, his acrobatic assistant, and some chairs, and I won’t lie — this show scared the HELL out of me.

The chairs didn’t seem to interlock in any way, and even so — the chef would occasionally “grab” one to hoist himself up or down and it was all I could do not to run screaming.

We had a lovely day, truly.  We ate and drank samples from places all over the world, and walked until my feet almost dropped off.  (Four people is a good number to hit a food and wine festival, BTW; it lets you easily divide dishes so you can get a taste of everything without gorging yourself.)

Let’s finish the post with a fashion show, shall we?

Mike is rather a-moose'd

I'm not a stinky-head, YOU'RE a stinky-head!

I have climbed the mountain, and it was good

By “the mountain,” I mean Expedition Everest, of course!

Mike and I had a fabulous time at Disney!  We flew in Thursday morning and hit Magic Kingdom in the afternoon.  We posed in front of Cinderella’s castle, rode the Carousel and made ourselves sick-dizzy in the spinning teacups:

Seriously, we were staggering like sots by the time we got off!

Due to the wretched economy and it being the off-season (i.e., no school holiday), the lines were CRAZY short.  It was rare that we had to wait more than ten minutes for ANYTHING.  The longest part of the line was usually walking up to the kick-off point, not standing around.  We amused ourselves in the Haunted Mansion and did Splash Mountain twice:

done

We also had a weird encounter with some Michael Jackson Mickey Mouse’s (Mickey Mice?):

Weird-looking, right? Apparently they’re made of recycled materials or something.

I know, I know, this is The Most Boring Post Ever.  Shut up.  I’ll try and make tomorrow’s more interesting; but in the meantime; here’s a treat for your Monday morning:

done

In other news, Michael Jackson is still dead.

MIKE:  “So the morning show people in Charlotte were talking about how Mary J. Blige was originally scheduled to perform at Michael Jackson’s memorial-thing in Vienna, but then she said no because she was going to be in Italy.  And they were like, ‘Why wouldn’t she go?  She’s going to be in the SAME COUNTRY!’ and Lissa, no one said anything.“

LISSA:  “So Vienna is in Italy.  Right-o.”

MIKE:  “Maybe they were thinking of Venice?”

LISSA:  “Maybe.  Why would they decide to do a big Michael Jackson thing in Vienna?”  Pause.  “And if you say because Vienna is home to other great musicians just like Michael Jackson I will throw this ice cream at you.”

MIKE:  “Maybe . . . it’s because of the Vienna Boys’ Choir?”

Yes indeedy, if you were wondering, we’re going to hell together!

UPDATE:  TOTWTYTR linked.  Thanks!

Wedding weekend

Good morning all!  As you know, I was down in Washington D.C. for a wedding.  It was lovely to see Mike, and lovely to be back in DC; I lived in Rockville, MD for a number of years, and I lived in DC the summer between junior and senior year at Ye Olde Liberal Arts College.  The groom was a friend of Mike’s, a super-nice guy, and his bride was beautiful.  The weekend went pretty smoothly, with just two exceptions . . .

1) The dress my sister loaned me had a bodice of alternating fabric and tulle stripes.  Not risque, really, I just had to make sure to bring a flesh-colored bra.  So, of course, I forgot to bring the stupid bra.  Grrrr.

We checked Google Maps, and there was nary a TJ Maxx or Marshall’s around — this was Georgetown, after all.  Luckily, there was a French lingerie store right down the block, and a Macy’s 1.7 miles away if I couldn’t find anything at the store next door.

The proprietor of the store was a very nice, very friendly lady.  I walked quickly through the shop looking for the plainest bra I could find and then, trying to be subtle, asked if all the underwear were the same price.

“Oh no!” she trilled.  “That one you have is $150; those over there are $250, and that one is $399.”

ONE HUNDRED FIFTY DOLLARS.  FOR ONE BRA.

“Thank you ma’am but I just don’t think this is what I’m looking for, I’m sorry to waste your time,” I said, and headed for the door like my ass was on fire.

Macy’s it was!  *shrug*  It was a nice day, we were wearing comfy shoes, and hey look, it’s me in front of the White House!

2) The wedding ceremony was a full Catholic mass.  Of all the weddings I’ve been to, I think perhaps half have been full Catholic masses; I’m used to it by now.  I say the responses when I know them, I sing along when I know the lyrics, and I let the rest wash over me and enjoy the prettiness.

This ceremony was, however, a little . . . weird. Well, not the ceremony as a whole, just the homily.  Excerpted and paraphrased, it went something like this:

“When I was looking at Harvard admission letters back in the ’80s, there were three themes:  power, money, and status. That’s what people were after in the 80s.  And look where it got us!  The economy is in meltdown, we’re stuck in another war, we’re in another Vietnam, it’s just a disaster.  You know, I knew Bernie Madoff in the 80s, and look where he is today.  There was too much greed!  And too much lust! . . .

“Now, [bride] and [groom] over there, when I asked what was important to them, they didn’t say money or power. They said, “Family,” and they said, “Friends.”  That’s what they said was important to them . . . But we all know how life gets in the way, and gets in the way of your best intentions!  So I put it on YOU, on ALL of you, to remind them when things get busy!  If you haven’t heard from them in a while, you call them up and remind them what’s important, remind them of their duties to family and friends!”

It was the weirdest sermon/homily I’d ever heard.  Mike had to start poking me because I kept looking over at him, goggle-eyed, mouthing What the hell, dude???  WHAT??? His friend kicked my chair when the word “Vietnam” made my head snap back and my mouth fall open.

A lot of people feel that way.  I know that, I get that, I understand that.

But WHAT THE HELL DID THAT HAVE TO DO WITH A WEDDING????

And then he pretty much congratulated them for their good intentions and then said he didn’t think they’d live up to them.  Dude, what?

*shaking head*  Life is confusing sometimes.

Back up north

I actually got back Sunday, but I didn’t blog yesterday because it would have been nothing but whining.  *sniffle*  Today, I’m mostly done whining, and I’ve largely lost my drawl.  (One of the many, many reasons I’ll never be a politician is that I tend to “reflect” the speech patterns around me; I drawl in the South but pronounce all my G’s in the north.  I once hung out with a bunch of Southerners in London and came out with a full-on speech disorder.  SRSLY.)

So Mike’s apartment is small but nice, a cross between a dorm room and a hotel.  (It’s got that hotel smell, a scent that’s not as wholesome as bleach but that’s the closest I can come.  I made him buy a jar candle and burned it diligently.)  You’d be amazed how much little stuff you need to buy to outfit a completely furnished apartment — dishwasher detergent and sponges and bleach wipes and garlic powder and body wash and ballpoint pens.  And you may take my word for it — the toilet paper that comes with a furnished apartment SUCKS BIG TIME.

It’s very quiet around here with Mike gone.  You see, he talks a lot. *kiss kiss, sweetie*  By myself, there’s no one talking and no one to talk to.  It’s weird.

Thank goodness for Skype.  Mike’s all signed up, as is my mom and my brother in Ireland (which is why Mom signed up).  The cat has been picked up and waved at the camera multiple times.  He sat on my lap during most of my call with Mike last night, being a good kitty.

And I’m trying real hard to enjoy the silver linings of Mike being in Charlotte.  I’m making chicken tzatziki pasta tonight, something I wouldn’t do if Mike were here because he wouldn’t eat it.  We had a lovely, lovely brunch with my old choir conductor and his wife Sunday morning; I brought them wedding favors and some pictures and it was FABULOUS to see my old surrogate parents.  We even managed to hit my old favorite restaurant from college, and dined on lobster tails and filet mignon:

(Medium rare, of course.  I’ve learned.)

I’m flying to DC this Friday to go to a wedding with Mike, and he’ll be home the two weekends after that.  (I’ve already bought chocolate chips in anticipation — he enjoys my cookies.)  In the meantime, I shall keep my chin up.

*sniffle*

P.S.  A coworker asked me yesterday morning  why I seemed sort of irritated and down, not my usual bouncy self.  I tried to give a Reader’s Digest version, but I definitely started it wrong — the first sentence out of my mouth was, “Well, Mike left this weekend.”  Her eyes bugged out and I hastily amended, “No, I mean I helped him move into a temporary apartment!”  That didn’t make it any better.  I took a deep breath.  “Let me start this over.  Mike’s job is posting him in Charlotte for six months.  I flew down with him to help him get set up.  That’s all.”

It’s good to start your day with a laugh

P.P.S.  Breda, they took my knife away and I had to mail it to myself.  I miss my knife.

Happy Caturday: Deer-watching edition

Lissa:  “That’s funny, Mike.  I looked out the window and for a second I thought I saw a deer.  See that patch of brush, looks like a head attached to a body?”

Mike (looking out window):  “Um, Lissa, there’s a real deer out there!”

No, it wasn’t the patch I was looking at.  That was definitely inanimate plant life.  But Bambi was out there, invisible from my view from the couch, nomming on some greenery.

His apartment is in Charlotte, by the way.  It really is.  It’s just that his (tiny little) balcony is at the tail-end of the complex and overlooks a big ol’ forest.  (That, y’know, is the real sound of a Southerner.  It’s not the y’all’s, it’s the big ol’s.  Mike is already making fun of me; as soon as I cross the Mason-Dixon my drawl comes back.)

Rajah says:

Happy Caturday!

UPDATE:  Rajah would make this sound while nomming his Bambi Stew:

Thanks Mike!