Wednesday, April 10, 2013

I hear you now.

I always took hearing for granted. Warrant concerts, Pink Floyd blaring in Ronda's Firebird, crickets chirping on summer nights, church bells ringing on a Sunday morning, whispers from a friend behind a cupped hand, a cat purring as he stretched out, my baby girl crying in the other room as she awoke- these were all gifts that I did not even recognize.

Until I didn't hear things. I just thought church bells quit ringing and crickets did not exist in Colorado. I thought that our doorbell was broken and my cat was too grumpy to purr.

Lo and behold, crickets do chirp and bells do ring here. When I was prego with Timesboy, I had a freakish case of hearing loss. Hereditary, kicked into high gear with the hormones that often surge in pregnancy (they tell you about stretch marks, but hearing loss???), my ears just quit working.

Amazingly enough, my hearing loss is much more correctable than nerve damage that older people often have. I am blessed beyond compare that I can walk out of my audiologist's office and hear someone's high heels clicking against a cold tile floor. I can hear bells and crickets and music and a child's cry. My ears have actually relearned some things, in that I can hear some things that you won't hear- I can hear your voice in a crowded concert, as clear as a bell's peal. I can hear a dog's tags jangling in the park across a football field, so clear that I will look around and assume it must be something within a few feet. I can hear birds warbling on a vacation morning, and I now know this is so precious that I will awaken at five just to sit and soak their songs in.

Interesting thing about correcting hearing loss. It is a far cry from correcting vision. Vision, when you correct it, you correct to 20/20 and see as well as the guy next to you who maintains perfect fighter-pilot vision. Hearing, you can spend eight thousand dollars on hearing aids (that insurance NEVER covers), and still only hear bits and pieces of what a 'normal' person hears. This piece on NPR helps clarify, for a sentence, what having hearing loss feels like.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2013/04/06/175945670/the-real-sounds-of-hearing-loss

Listen to it. Please and thank you.

Mushy stuff,  chirping crickets, and bells ringing. XOXOXO

Monday, April 8, 2013

Selfies, a stalker, and striped underwear.


 Having a stalker makes me aware of several things. One, I wear WAAAY too many stripes. Seriously. I obviously took those college J Crew catalogues to heart, because all of these stripes are ridonkulous. People probably place bets on whether my underwear are striped.
Two, I don't get selfies at all because I have no need for them. Why would I, when I have this adorable little creeper stealing around corners and taking pictures of me all the time? Over nine hundred on my phone, at last count. Some, I am aware of the snapping away, but others, I am engrossed in conversations with friends or looking at my salad or sleeping. Nothing creepy about that. No sir.
 I have been spending an extraordinary amount of time in IKEA these days. In my stripes. I draw the line at eating Swedish Meatballs or wearing yellow, but there are far too many pictures of me standing in an IKEA line.


 I hate pictures of myself ninety-nine percent of the time. The one percent, are usually taken by the Stalkerazzi. He gets me. The me that isn't cheesing for the camera, showing all my teeth, or smiling so that one eye squints. I actually love this picture, even though it is not the most flattering. He caught me in deep conversation at my favorite restaurant (Hello, Bella!!) with one of my favorite people as I was soaking up her words.
...and he lets me be stupid. I can stick my head in a shark's mouth, lick a lucky dollar, belt out a Sugarland song, pet a stingray and sing it a lullaby, crawl through the kiddie tunnel at IKEA, or get a chocolate milk mustache, and he will not only encourage it, but also get the proof on camera. Just in case there is blackmail money to be made in the future, I suppose.
 Look. IKEA. Color me surprised.
Occasionally, I tell him to knock it off. Tell him I am going to get a bodyguard. Until I remember he IS the ten-year-old bodyguard. Oof.
More stripes. At Ikea. Judge away. I totally would...
And yet, when I try to photograph the photographer, this is what I get. A shock of hair, and nothing more. Turkey kid.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Prayer.

http://edwardsharpeandthemagneticzeros.com/news/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qAZpQllC9w

I. Love. These. Guys.

This song- this song has made me think more than any other song in a very long time. Sums it all up for me- I don't want to be the pray-er, I just want to be the prayer....

Monday, April 1, 2013

Get off my lawn....

I find myself getting annoyed a lot lately. This is not my usual- I can normally let things roll off my back. Unless these things involve wet towels or dog hair in my toothbrush, but I digress.

No, I find myself getting annoyed in a way that I want to kick people in their shins or trip them. Often. Instead of doing this, because I am old enough to know that my liability coverage won't cover intentional misdeeds, I am just making a list of things that annoy me.


  1. Jimmy John commercials. Every time I hear one on the radio, I vow to never step foot in one of their sammich shops. Really, who thought it was a good idea to yell in a staccato and increasing way for me to buy your shit?
  2. Colored fog lights. When you drive up behind me with your pink fog lights on the I, I want to slow down to the speed my ex-mother-in-law would drive. That's right, forty slow miles an hour. Your pink fog lights are glaring and obnoxious and your money would be better spent lasering off that bad tramp stamp you probably regret.
  3. Assholes- you know who you are. You really try to harsh my gig, and I am not even letting you in the door. No, really. You cannot come through my door, even if there are zombies who are chasing you and wanting to eat your brains. In that case, you better learn how to climb a tree, because your annoying self is not coming through my door. 
  4. IKEA screws. Annoying little pre-stripped things.
  5. Selfies- I don't understand. I realize this is because I am old.
  6. Getting old- I realize this, and it pisses me off. I am getting old because I don't understand the idea of going to the mall and hanging out, or selfies, or duck faces, or mean girls. And the fact that everything is annoying me confirms that I am getting old. Or turning into a fourteen-year-old.  Whatev.
  7. Thinking about herbs and supplements- I just want my iron and calcium. Seeing bottles with words like 'slippery elm' and 'red yeast rice' makes me feel a little sickly.
That is it for now, buttercups. I am annoyed with being annoyed. Peace and wet kisses, unless you are an asshole. In that case, get off my lawn.