Oh The Things We See, And Say, And Do!

So, myopia isn't just mis-seeing things, even though it pertains to the ocular. I think there is myopia in the brain as well. All the information is there, the brain just doesn't "see" it correctly.

One of my best examples is a tank farm in Northeast Minneapolis. I grew up not far from there and only ever saw it from County Road C. Oh, for those of you who don't know what a tank farm is; it is a collection of tanks housing oil.

Dave and I had been married at least 6 or 7 years when I looked at the same tank farm from 35W. Naively, I said, "Hey, there are 2 tank farms in the same area!" Dave looked at me to see if I was kidding. I was not. I could not connect in my brain that we were seeing the same site from a different angle. OK, that is way cool. I now knew through Dave's laughing response I had sounded incredibly unsmart!

Keep in mind I am nearing the experienced and learned age of 73. This winter we happened to take the road that runs on the south side of the same tank farm. Before I could recall the humor that went with the former puzzlement, I blurted out, "There's ANOTHER tank farm!" It's too painful to relate here the look of utter shock and the laughter that followed. He purposely took me on the road that runs to the west of the place so I wouldn't have to have a future revelation.

Now that would be the end of it if there weren't all the wounded animals I have nearly had a heart attack over. While driving by myself one day, I saw this ghastly, maimed animal rolling and creeping across the road ahead of me. I couldn't slam on the brakes because of traffic behind me and there wasn't much room to maneuver nor to avoid hitting this pitiful creature. My heart was beating wildly and I know my eyes were bulging from my face like a cartoon character. It slithered and prediction indicated it would be under my left wheels in no time. All that adrenalin and extreme oxygen pumping through my system was over a piece of rug that was blowing and rolling on the road. There have been countless plastic bags that were perceived geese, ducks, birds, and puppies impaled on roadside fences.

I have ducked to avoid being attacked by deadly leaves thinking they were bugs. I nearly killed myself when I was standing at the top of a stairwell when my senses picked up the sound and vibration of the June Bug that was on my hip just under my right elbow. I screeched, started batting at my side while rapidly approaching the top stair of the well. Then, to my embarrassment discovered I was trying to kill the pager I was wearing. Yeah. I left the office with hoots of laughter ringing in my ears.

This morning I headed for the kitchen for my first cup of coffee. Tentatively I asked Dave to come look at something. I was trying to not sound as panicky as I felt. He came to my side and I pointed at the Dragonfly resting in the sun on our carpet. Dave looked at it and then picked it up. It was a piece of mulch the dog had brought in on her still winter-long coat. I said, "It did look like a Dragonfly, didn't it?" He agreed, then turned it end up and said, "And, now it looks like a tiny tree."

Don't get me started on the dyslexic turn I give words when I am reading fast. I stop a page or two later and think to myself, "That just did not make sense". Of course it didn't; it wasn't the word I had inserted into the text. Also, we will leave for another blog the strange looks I have received while wholeheartedly singing the words to a hymn in church all the while belting out strange things in my own personal mis-speak. Would you believe I have actually suffered my daughter and daughter-in-law pulling a hymnal from my hands and telling me to stop? Would you just believe that?