On this light Christmas note, do I begin my woeful saga of old age, old glasses, and old times before corrective lenses became the rage. I’m a sixty-eight year old grandma, but like to consider myself young at heart if not very “jack be nimble, jack be quick.” I do have a yoga mat and 2# weights so no worries that I’m too far of a gone girl … yet.  Mind you, I also have a brand new BOSU Ballast Ball, complete with a little weight inside; all to help ward off the progressive onset of osteoporosis.  I get it.  It’s all about balance and finding your core.  What? You young people today use such language.  Okay, so I’ll throw in that I’m deaf in one ear and wear a hearing aid in the other.  I realize many, many folks my age suffer the same “woes,” without complaint.  Understand I’m not complaining in this post, merely providing a narrative J

I lost my little wire-rim glasses that I’d had for years, a couple of weeks ago.  Like many of you, I’m a little … well, maybe a lot OCD, and I’ve counted on those darn glasses to literally see me through the writing of all my published books since 2005.  Also, like many writers, I have a writing spot, a writing time, and a writing zone I must find, before the first finger goes to the first key to form the first word on my computer.  My coffee cup goes to one side, and then I readjust my flannel pj’s to the “just right” comfort position, before shooing my cat off my keyboard so I can think straight.  Oh yeah, I can only think straight if my little wire-rims are on straight and here we bifocal-go!


The worst had happened. All I did was pile my stuff in my big Ugg’s tote (which I’m completely attached to now and have named Uggs … she has a baby but we won’t go into that here.) I had errands and so off I went, to the bank and all the rest.  You know the drill.  Once returned from these same errands, I took off my prescription sunglasses per usual, but my wire-rim glasses went missing!  I did what you’re all mentally recommending.  I retraced all my steps and all my stops but my glasses were nowhere to be found!

To quote Edward Rochester in Jane Eyre, “What to do? What to do?” Edward feared being found out and I suddenly feared being plucked out of my life as I knew it.  If you’re detecting a sense of hysteria here, you’re right.  I couldn’t see straight and I couldn’t think straight.  Guys, I need all the help I can muster each and every day to help me think straight.  In answer to the quintessential Mr. Rochester, I didn’t know what to do!  I found myself channeling Jane Fonda in her ’80’s exercise video and remembered her sage words … “now breathe … feel the burn … and breathe.”  I swear if I’d had a candy-striped, red and white leotard—the same she wore in her video—I’d have donned the darn thing and tried my best to breathe, despite its tightness.  That must have been the, “feel the burn,” part of Jane’s video … a too tight leotard.

No matter if travelling of late on trains, planes, or in automobiles, I had my little magnifier from CVS pharmacy complete with a light, a bookmark magnifier from Barnes & Noble, and a page magnifier from the same wonderful store; all to enhance the print for me, on top of my CVS magnifying glasses I purchased to have some vision during this obtuse time.  I say obtuse, because I felt dull-witted, indeed, unable to see the edges in life.  I’d gone from Nellie Nurd (my moniker in my old wire-rims) to Nellie Noodle, wearing and peering through anything I could find to focus.

At long last I have my new glasses and have morphed into Geek Chic, with my brown-rimmed, library-literate frames.  I look smarter.  Who knows?  Maybe my EyeQ has picked up a little J

All of my personas wish you the best in this holiday season!

Husky Hugs,


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