Dilated Pupils: Seeing is Believing

I had the best #firstworldproblem ever this weekend and I just have to share it with you:

A friend and I were talking about how crazy downtown Indianapolis was going to be during the Super Bowl and we joked that it would probably be better to just fly there rather than wrestle with the inevitable traffic on the highway. That led me to mentioning that my dad was a pilot and had his own plane.

“Great!” my friend exclaimed. “He can fly us there!”

And that’s when I replied with the first-iest first world problem of them all: “Well, my dad and I don’t have a very good relationship, so I never get to take rides in his airplane.”

Womp. Womp.

So did everyone have a good weekend?

I sure did, despite the fact that I was nursing a sick hubby the entire time.
Friday afternoon I left work a few minutes early to drive across town for the second part of my eye exam. I had the first part of my routine exam last Saturday, but opted not to have my pupils dilated at that time because taking in excessive amounts of light through my eyes isn't really a hobby of mine. However, my optometrist insisted that I have it done at a later date, free of charge (and he had me there, I do like free things), just to make sure my eyes were really as healthy as he suspected they were. 

So Clayton drove me to the doctor's office yet again (Clayton was sent home from work early because his incessant coughing and hacking was driving his boss up the wall), and the dilation of my pupils began. And yes, my eyes are perfectly healthy and according to my doctor, shaped like perfect footballs. I think that was a compliment? I don’t know, but it was very specific. And apparently I’m some kind of anomaly because I have a freckle on one my retinas and it was, in my doctor’s words, “just the cutest little thing ever”.

Have I mentioned my eye doctor is the best? Seriously, if you’re looking for a local optometrist who has impeccable personal hygiene, a sharp-tongue and quick wit, email me because I will be delighted to tell you who he is and where he’s located. It’s like getting an eye exam and a show. 

Now I don’t know if you’ve ever had your pupils dilated, but to put it frankly, it sucks. It’s not pleasant in the slighest. It takes your normal, perfectly happy pupils and increases their size to that of a dinner mint or in my case, a dinner plate. It allows your doctor to look more deeply into your eyes (I don’t mean that romantically) and check out the overall health of your peepers. It takes about 20 minutes for the drops to fully take effect and once they do, you can’t see for crap and have to walk around looking high for the next several hours. Since his office is located in our mall, he instructed me to go shopping while I’ll waited for the drops to work their magic. About ten minutes in, I could no longer read price tags and I accidentally ran into a sunglasses kiosk.

After thoroughly making fun of me, Clay had a moment of compassion and offered to take me to a Chinese buffet for dinner. I couldn’t see the sushi I was eating, but it sure was delicious … what parts made it into my mouth, anyway.

By Saturday morning my sight was fully restored and I banged out a stellar 6-mile run on our treadmill. I was too chicken to brave the elements and decided that running inside while watching an episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta was a better alternative to wheezing out in the snow. 

That afternoon my mother drove down to meet me at Oliver Winery so we could sample wine and pick out the perfect bottle to compliment our dinner. I made her steak, roasted red potatoes and steamed broccoli in an effort to repay her for the millions of homecooked meals she made for me growing up.

I don’t know why, but I get nervous whenever I prepare anything to eat for my mother. I think it’s because she’s such a tremendous cook that I just want her to be pleased with me and feel confident that her culinary skills are being carried on by her daughters. But she really liked my food and commended my broccoli for having the perfect amount of crunch and color.

I was beaming. 

This part made me pee a little, I'm not gonna lie.
But I couldn't help but notice that this demon's
pupils were NOT dilated. (Photo from DigitalTrends.com)

After my mother left, Clay and I finished the movie Insidious on our Netflix Instant Queue. We attempted to watch it the night before, but my dilated pupils made everything 10 times creepier, and Clay shut it off after I started screaming something about over-stimulation and demons being able to see into my soul by way of my giant-sized pupils.

Sunday was fairly low-key. Clay was still pretty sick with his cold, so we skipped church and took it easy (and by taking it easy, I mean we did lots of laundry). Wanting to comfort him, I made a giant pot of Mexican meatball stew which actually ended up being the perfect meal on such a chilly January evening. I always feel like a million bucks when he takes the first bite of something I’ve cooked and sighs happily. Makes me feel like a good wifey. 

He also gave me one of those compliments wrapped up in an insult that I’m so found of. After downing a massive glass of water after my run, a giant belch slipped out of me before I could stop it (Okay, that’s a lie. I was encouraging it to come out … with bravado). After the ground stopped shaking, Clay looked at me, clearly disgusted, and said, “How can something so incredibly gross come out of something so incredibly cute?”

Aw. :)