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Here's Looking at You, Winky
EyeballMadness

I'm finally used to writing '07 when I write out the date, which can mean only one thing: It just turned 2008.

And look! It has been more than two weeks since I last blogged. Which means I've been running around with my hair on fire - and not from the usual holiday crap, either.

Between keeping the kid's nose from running, The Varmint's nose in joint (and out of the cookpot), my friends from strangling me and my mom's eye from exploding, it's been stormy seas from the neck up around here. 

The result? My house has gone feral, we're sleeping in piles of dirty laundry and I was officially indoctrinated into The Holiday Schlub Hall of Fame. I did not snap the cute little holiday picture or make cute little photo cards. Cards didn't get sent out at all (and here's the confession part...) unless a card was sent to us. Or someone had a baby. Or I missed someone's birthday. Or a debt was owed or a thank you overlooked. And sometimes, not even then. Shopping was hit or miss, and I pretty much left the holiday gear packed, except for a few bits and baubles; basically, shortcuts were taken.

Including our tree, which was miniaturized and elevated 4 feet off the ground. All defensive measures against The Teeny Queen of Chaos, The Wee Diva of Destruction, our very own Drunken Midget. She still managed to tear balls off the tree by climbing a set of bookshelves.

HolidayMadness_NotOurHouseI'm letting myself off the holiday hook, however. This picture? Not our house. We've had a lot of balls in the air - some bowling balls, some of the Rocky Mountain oyster variety, but mostly eyeballs.

I'm calling it The Great Eyeball Gross-Out of 2007. And it hits me at a particularly weak spot.

I occasionally feign otherwise, but for the most part, I'm pretty stalwart. Rats. Snakes. Open wounds. Me no flinchy. If there are crawling insects or eyeballs involved, however, all bets are off.

So... leave it to my mom to ferret out the one thing that allows her to call me a "wuss" in public.

And so she has. Several times. As she's getting multiple injections in her eye to mitigate the damage of macular degeneration, and I'm trying to leave the doctor's office (and being denied) and then am forced to sit down, head hanging low (and being made fun of) as they pop her eyelid open Brazil-style and start poking it repeatedly with sharp objects (while I deep breathe to keep from going all Jackson Pollack with my morning eggs).

I thought I'd lose it a week later when the thing swelled up, got pus-filled and infected, the number of injections tripled, and things got bloody. Urf. The good news is, the eyeball's better now-  so she gets to keep it - and we're keeping our fingers crossed that she also keeps her driver's license.

As if Mom's eyeball thing wasn't enough, the faboo Jen had a pterygium removed - a serious surgery that goes deep into the eye to remove a growth. The gnarly part is that it's performed wide awake and eye open - including STITCHES IN HER EYEBALL. This thought alone makes my knees go weak and my mouth go dry. I couldn't see her until the stitches came out. After that, The Varmint's nephew Trajan got pink eye, then his grandma got a nasty eye inflammation that threatened Christmas dinner and at this point, I'm thinking to myself: ENOUGH WITH THE EYES, ALREADY! Brrrf. 

WinkyMadnessThe only good things to come of all this Peeper Madness is that The Momster's eye is improving - AND she got a new nickname that's having some staying power: We've been calling her Winky.

Winky was winking at everybody for awhile there, whether she liked it or not, either from the swelling or the light sensitivity. We'd be driving along, usually coming back from a doctor's appointment, and I'd slow down to pace the car next to us and say to Mom, "Hey Mom! Do you know that guy next to us? Because he's staring at you. Check him out."

And unthinkingly, she'd look over at him before she could stop herself. That's when I'd go in for the kill.

"Actually, I think he's checking you out... I mean, look Mom! He's WINKING at you! That sly dog!"

That's usually when I'd get socked in the arm, but I'm telling you: It was totally worth it. 

We all love ya, Winky. Get well soon! 

 

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >