Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Windy City

We all have those days where nothing goes right. Well...apparently I am having one of those YEARS...but I suppose that will make my 50s (coming up soon!) look really, really good.

I was walking across campus on Monday to deliver a protocol to the VA (pronounced "vah" by those of us who go there a lot), since one of the docs wants to do his study here at the University AND at the Veteran's Administration Hospital. Of course, being a federal bureaucracy, they require yet MORE paper than the university. :) Yes, I have killed many trees for my profession and the end is not yet in sight...but I digress. Oklahoma is one of the windiest places in the world. Chicago can make all the claims it wants, but there has never been a mass exodus from Chicago due to wind...remember that whole Dust Bowl thing? Well, that's because the Oklahoma winds blew away all the topsoil. You never hear about THAT anywhere else.

So anyway, I was walking across campus, when suddenly a huge gust of wind blew some of that dirt right into my eye, which made my contact pop right out of my eye.

I've worn contacts for 32 years. I have lost (and found) my contacts on the floor, in the woods, and even in a pool. But this one must have been blown away to Oz because it was just gone.

Without correction to my vision, I am so nearsighted that I have to hold things a couple inches away from my nose to see them. And having had such excellent luck with contacts for so many years, I have to admit that I have no glasses and no spares. This is not conducive to driving.

I did manage to make it home on just one eye (that sounds funny) and found an optometrist who would see me Tuesday since my usual one couldn't...and it had been more than a year so I couldn't just get another pair of the same old prescription. And since I must wear hard contacts, they won't be done until Friday. So I am wearing soft ones until then...which makes everything just a little fuzzy around the edges.

You know, I am almost afraid to try this dating thing, since the way things are going, anyone I meet is bound to have had Ted Bundy as a mentor.

And d'oh! I forgot my best and oldest friend's birthday on the 21st. We've been friends since elementary school and she is the single most creative person I've ever met.

My friend Jamie, whose mother died last year, has advised me that I should be writing down, every day, something I am grateful for (she says this has really helped with her grief). So today I am grateful for my friends, who love me even when I forget their birthdays.


Gone Away said...

The 50s are the best years of our lives (well, they are for me, anyway). Enjoy!

Let us not forget that the Oklahoma dustbowl also led to the writing of The Grapes of Wrath, without which American literature would be that much worse off. It's an ill wind that blows no-one any good...

Rusty said...

The Grapes of Wrath bored the hell out of me... like Winter of Our Discontent and East of Eden.

Glad to see we are both tree-killers. The world makes sense afterall. Hope your year gets better.

Rhodester said...

Jodie, see..


not to mention..


Dave :-)

Jodie said...

Dave, I had no idea you were such a problem solver! Unfortunately, my ex fit quite a number of those serial killer specs....

Rusty, I spent two years as an English lit grad student. And STILL managed to avoid the Grapes of Wrath. Alas, though, Moby Dick was required...

Gone, the 40s were so much better than the 30s that I am actually looking forward to the 50s! In fact, sometimes I tell people I'm 50 so that 1) I can hear "Gee, you don't LOOK 50! and 2) I won't be shocked by the actual number when I get there...I'll already be used to it. :D

Harry said...

I look back on the 50s and think, what a twit I was then. I hope that sounds somewhat encouraging, Jodie. :D

From living a little too close to Chicago, as well as in the panhandle of Texas for way too many years, I can vouch for the wind down there as being both real and constant, unlike the hot political ones that blow out of Illinois' Big Smoke. "The Windy City", some say, was so-named because of them, and I certainly do believe it.

In Amarillo, I once met a man who said, "The wind blows (here) and makes a man hard." I don't recall him smiling at the time, either.