The Older Grandson & I

Perhaps we’re more alike than I thought. When he was a toddler, he was making cooking with his mom, The Eldest. They got the cookies on the sheet, and Grandson wanted decorations. Daughter had nothing, but remembered peanut-butter cookies, and so showed Grandson how make fork impressions as decorations. Grandson was bitterly disappointed: “Fork marks aren’t decorations!” He was very frowny.

On Thursday after the retina specialist tried and tried to see the tears, the light really hurting me, he finally injected a local near my eye, hence the bruise around my eye. (And of course it did nothing: the pain was in the retina.) At any rate, when he was done, he said, “We’re going to send you home with a patch on your eye.”

Well, cool! With my eye problems I had been thinking a black patch—à la Hathaway man—would be very nifty. The nurse showed up, carrying a handful of gauze bandages, and my first thought was: “Gauze bandages are not an eye patch!” And I felt very frowny.