What Century is This?

You might recall a while back a post about me making an eye exam at the behest of the university's workplace safety guy.

Well, you can rest easy now because my vision is nearly perfect at 20/15.

Of course, when I was talking to some of my corrective-lens wearing co-workers, it became apparent that I had gone to an optometrist office stuck in the previous century...and waaaaayyyyy back in the previous century.

There was none of this for me:



The optometrist - a little old guy in his late 60s/early 70s at least - said that he didn't like "those big machines" because he likes to be closer to the patient. Or something like that. Anyway, for part of my exam, I wore a heavy set of frames into which he inserted various sorts of lenses. These lenses were retrieved from a big wooden case....from the 1950s, at the minimum.

The case was beautiful and I loved the Danish Modern furniture in the office, but I don't know. When the depth perception test I took consisted of me looking at a picture of an insect through stereoscopic glasses and trying to grab the wings, I realized that I should just sit back and enjoy the ride through history.

The optometrist also called me "babe" and "honey." And while I wasn't offended, I also wasn't totally comfortable. I really prefer to just be called "you" or maybe even "Carrie" by healthcare professionals. Luckily, when he started to ask me if I had a boyfriend around here, an assistant walked into the exam room with a question.

Whew.

Random Other Things
For all of my life, I have carried my stress in my intestinal system. Last night, I dreamt that I was having an endoscopy. In the dream, I even had that thing inserted in my mouth that they use to prevent you from biting into the cord with all of the optical wires in it. I didn't like this dream.

Last month, I replaced my keeper with a moon cup. The moon cup is so much easier to insert, more comfortable to wear, and easier to clean than the original natural gum rubber keeper. I'm glad for the moon cup, but I think the name is stupid. Of course, "the keeper" isn't much better. P.S. I love it when I see people wearing t-shirts emblazoned with "I'm a keeper" because I always think, "you're a menstrual cup"? And then I laugh in my head.

This weekend is the Festival of Nations. I'm looking forward to some good food and maybe checking out the Ethiopian cotton spinning demo or the Macedonian needlework session. Or something else.