Yesterday, the first day of the year, I was swimming in a pool in Scottsdale, AZ and gazing up at some palm trees. At 1:30 in the morning Nate's brother, Ben, was delivering Ceara and me to our car. At 2:30 in the morning, we were pestering Ben again, to pick up Ceara's hourly eye-drops accidentally forgotten in the fog of sleep deprivation (seriously people, she's finally gotten leave to put them in every 2 hours at night, every 30 minutes during the day so she does not get a lot of shut-eye).
I suppose we should back up and fill all you faithful blog-readers in. Just before Christmas, Ceara felt like she might have pink eye. So she went to her eye surgeon's office where they told her that it was not, in fact, The Pink. Instead, it is a fungus...or a bacteria. So they took a tiny melon-baller to her cornea (just kidding, that's only what I imagined) and put it in a dish on the kitchen window sill to see what would grow (still only what I imagined, but don't you think it is bizarre that I'm NOT a scientist given my prodigious knowledge of the way these things work?) So they told her to come back the next day, and the next, and they also told her that if she failed to drop these several potions mixed up by the apothecary in the clinic in her eye every hour on the hour, they would have to put her in the hospital to have nurses do it for her because this could be nasty stuff (fungal or bacterial).
They finally decided she could go home for Christmas the day we left for Cheyenne. Just got the update this afternoon that she went back today and the culture still hasn't grown anything (2.5 weeks later) and she's supposed to continue dropping until next week when her original surgeon (who has not yet seen this stuff) can take a look and compare what her eye looks like now to what it looked like when he did the procedure he did for her a few months back (presumably to decide whether she has been doing all this in vain and nothing was wrong or whether she does have some mystery bacto-fungus ((more techmological jargon most of you have prolly never heard))). Until then, she'll keep applying whatever combination of battery acid and lemon juice packaged as a prescription eye drop the profeshes give her.
She was understandably annoyed/frustrated relating this latest tidbit this afternoon as she's trying to get prepared for some grad school auditions coming up and this is impairing her mightily. Because I am an uber-sensitive type sister, I did not suggest the obvious, which is that she should pick a monologue from the Pirates of Penzance and other sea-rogue-related monologues for her auditions and then purchase a patch for what we refer to as "the oracle eye". Seriously, pirates have more range than people give them credit for. Poor, pigeon-holed pirates.
Tonight is my first interim class. This with one of my most favoritest professors so far. Like all classes so far, this one is ambiguously titled: Families, Schools, and Communities. Riiiight. If they are going to persist in naming courses in a way that gives people no way of knowing what the class is about ,they could at least name them smart-sounding, mathematicalish stuff like Interrogative Thermo-Geometric Tryptogriffic Stabilization Theory. Don't worry, that comment won't just stay here on the intimate t-blog, I will be sure to suggest it specifically in my "course evaluation" because I am a woman of action.
During my week-long break I visited the following states (however briefly): Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. Good times. I will post some pictographic evidence of fun as soon as I airbrush all the photos and photoshop in some sequiny outfits so that people will look their holiday finest. Even the squirrels.
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