Entry 276: In-Law Reinforcements

It was an up-and-down week alone with the little guy.  Half the time he's a happy, fun little boy; the other half he's an intransigent little pill -- so basically he's your typical two-year-old.  His pill mode has two settings: whiny and meddlesome.  When he's in whiny mode, he makes that incessant "fake crying" noise that every toddler I've ever known has in his or her repertoire in some way -- "e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e" -- and then he acts pouty and inconsolable about the smallest affronts, like I gave him the one-fourth cup to play with and he wanted the one-third cup.  When he's in meddlesome mode, he just won't leave you alone for two seconds -- if you go to the bathroom, he's banging on the door (or coming in if couldn't get it locked in time); if you send a text, he wants to see pictures on your phone; if you are trying to make dinner he wants to stir the pot and cut the vegetables.  The worst one is when I'm trying to sleep in the morning, he comes into my bed and lays down on me -- not by me, on me.  For some reason, he wants to use my neck and head as a pillow.  I think it's because when he was really little I used to let him sleep on my chest, but now he's too big for that.  Whatever the reason, it's not a very pleasant way to be prodded out of bed.

But last night, thankfully, the in-laws came for reinforcement -- none too soon.  Not only does it take some of the burden off of me to constantly entertain him, but it also just makes him happier which is good.  (They dote on him, like you wouldn't believe.  It's a bit much, even by grandparent standards.)  Also, it gave me a chance to play poker last night, which I haven't done in ... I don't even know how long.  I won $70, which is pretty sweet.  I'm not great at poker, but I'm good enough not to blow it if I get good hands, and last night I got really good hands.  I twice beat flushes with full-houses -- and I made a sweet call on a friend-of-a-friend who went all-in on a huge bluff.  The primary purpose of poker is to shoot the shit and drink a couple of cold ones with mates, but walking home with a decent chunk of loot in my pocket is a nice cherry on top.  Maybe I'll use my winnings for a date night; it's just about the right price for a sitter and a movie for two.  Actually, who am I kidding, we live in DC, it's more like a sitter and a small popcorn.

Anyway, I did something else this week that I haven't done in many years: had my eyes examined.  I've been wearing the same two pair of glasses since, let's see, 1998, maybe, so I decided it's time to get new ones, and if I'm going to get new glasses, I might as well get a checkup to make sure nothing has changed.  Nothing has.  I still have an astigmatism due to a toric curvature of my lens.  I can see quite well at long distances, but I still need glasses to prevent headaches/eye fatigue when reading or working on a computer.

The place I went, according to Yelp, is "a great optical boutique" called iGlasses.  That name was probably much less misleading twenty years ago or whenever it opened, because now it just sounds like Apple's response to Google Glass.  I really like it, but it's a strange place.  The reception area is run by young, trendy people of indeterminate race and gender, and they were bumping that type of music that's like Latin/techno/R & B/trip-hop/dance all rolled into -- that type of music that makes any white person over the age of 30 go crazy if they listen to it for longer than 15 minutes.  But then all the optometrists seemingly are old Jewish men.

The examination room was the polar opposite of the reception area; it looked as if it had been set up in 1971 and hadn't changed since.  When the door closed behind us, drowning out the last of the *ootz, ootz* coming from the radio, it was like I had stepped into a David Lynch movie -- all these beige machines, a shelf of old optometry books, big, dusty framed degrees hanging on the walls, and an old man with translucent orange hair, bracelets, and pinkie rings, reeking of cigarette smoke, instructing me to read row after row of letters and then taking notes by hand on a legal pad.  But the doctor was actually really kind and efficient (and funny -- he cracked a few legitimately good jokes), and I was out of there in no time at all.  

The really trouble began when I had to pick out frames.  I'm terrible at stuff like that.  I just don't have a discerning eye when it comes to fashion.  I pretty much let S pick out all my clothes, and before we met I'd go shopping with whomever I was dating at the time.  The stretches between girlfriends were tough.  I'd sometimes have to up my game just because I needed some new jeans.  So with the glasses frames, I just threw myself at the mercy of the woman helping me.  She told me that I should pick out a few frames and that she would pick out a few frames.  So I pretended to browse the wall of glasses for a few minutes and then said, "I'll just go with what you got" and then chose the one she liked the best.  Hopefully she and S have the same aesthetic.

Okay, that's about all I have time for today.  I'll leave you with Lil' S's new favorite YouTube clip.  

I never realized until recently how weird the lyrics are to this song.

Who can take a sunrise
Sprinkle it with dew
Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two 

The candy man is covering a sunrise with chocolate and dew and a miracle (or two)?  That's not a mixed metaphor; that's putting a bunch of metaphors into a blender and hitting the "puree" button.  

And then this is the next verse: 

Who can take a rainbow
Wrap it in a sigh
Soak it in the sun and make strawberry-lemon pie 

This verse is worse than the first, because it's not clear whether or not the strawberry-lemon pie is a product of wrapping a rainbow in a sigh and soaking it in the sun, or whether or not the candy man makes each one separately.  Also since when is strawberry-lemon pie candy?  Pie is the milieu of the baker, not the candy man.  

For the sake of completion, here's the final verse.

Willy Wonka makes everything he bakes
Satisfying and delicious
Talk about your childhood wishes
You can even eat the dishes
Who can take tomorrow
Dip it in a dream
Separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream

I would say the "eat the dishes" line was chosen solely because it rhymes with "delicious" and "wishes," but later in the movie, Willy Wonka does actually eat his dishes, so well-done there.  But still, I prefer this song much more.



Until next time ...