I fell asleep on the couch again last night and woke this morning to the sound of sleet hitting the window panes.   Forcing my eyelids to open, I could see the dark grey sky through the blinds. It's just awful outside: wind, ice, cold. Immediately I feel chilled to the bone. Stumbling over to the thermostat, I adjust the number upwards to one much more to my liking. I've had a sore throat since Friday morning and things don't feel much better.  After noticing that Sarah's car isn't parked out front, I remember her telling me that she'd be staying at a friend's house.  John's car is in the driveway, but it looks like James didn't make it back from the party he went to in Brooklyn.  Hoperfully, he and his buddies had the common sense to not drive home in this weather.  Celeste, Joe and the children are in Florida. They got out of Dodge just in time.  I hope the weather will be warmer for their return tomorrow.

Yesterday's performance of Amahl and the Night Visitors was even better attended than Friday evening's.  In all likelihood, today's final show will be cancelled if the weather remains as it is now.  The cast and crew won't know the final verdict until about noontime. Should the roads be safe enough for the principal singers to travel from New York and New Jersey for 3pm, the production will go on. If not, I hope the Opera Company wont take suffer too much of a financial loss.

 Our first performance was last Sunday at Tuxedo Park. Chorus members, dressed as poor shepherds were careful to remove modern watches and jewelry prior to the start of the show. At the 2pm run through, requested by our conductor, I had my eye-glasses tucked into my shirt, and repeatedly put them on and took them off while new directions were given for this smaller than rehearsed performance space. After the last markings were noted, I thought I placed my eyeglasses safely with my belongings, for I would not be wearing them onstage.

If only....

I couldn't find them anywhere after the show. Backstage, out in front, onstage...They were nowhere to be found. Thankfully, I'd grabbed a ride with another cast member. I can drive during the day without my glasses, but nighttime is another story. I barely hear my friend chatting away during the ride home. My mind is other places. I've medical tests on Tuesday, lesson plans to write for the substitute teacher and now , another block of time must be carved into the week's itinerary: I must stop to reorder glasses.  Mannnagggiaaa!!!

After school on Monday, I made my way to the one local optical store that uses my insurance. Barry, the front desk fellow who's been there forever, greets me with his typical dry, but sincere welcome.

"Look. She graces me with her presence. Whattaya need?"

"I lost my glasses, Barry. How soon to reorder new ones?" I ask.

"You're worse than a kid, " he responds. "And when are you gonna order a spare pair for yourself, already?"

"Barry, please, no lectures today...", I begin. "How long?"

"All right, all right, I'm just saying. Friday, 'cause of the bifocals. But remember, your insurance won't kick in until January."

He was correct. I'd forgotten. I'd only just gotten new glasses last June, when I learned I needed lasar surgery.

"Oh nuts," I moan.

 He makes a joke, smiling at my frustration.

"Oh, a comedian." It's my turn to be sarcastic.

"Always...." he says, without missing a beat.

Barry is a good soul. He has his own health issues, and we've talked about these over the years.

"Since  I can't use my insurance, show me the cheapest frames you've got." 

 My lenses will cost, there's no getting around that.  Two weeks before Christmas, I can stand to save a few pennies, by getting inexpensive frames. 

I watch Barry scans the shelves. 

"The cheapest?"  He pulls out several pair, quoting prices. I'm not impressed. They are all variations on the same thin, nearly invisible wire numbers I keep losing.

"Nothing else?" I'm feeling impatient and annoyed with myself for losing the glasses and putting myself in this position.

"Not unless you want to order something from the men's section," he snickers.

"Like what?" I question.

"Stop." He eyes me with furrowed eyebrows.

"Just show me."

He inhales dramatically, but complies with my wishes. He hands me a pair of oversized tortoise shell Clark Kents. 

"I can't give these away." He tells me.

 I put them on and peer into the mirror.  I resemble Charlie Sheen's character in Major League.  Who cares, the price is right.

"I'll take them."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'll return for something more attractive once I can use my insurance," I assure him. "Besides, I want my vision checked again. Things do seem a bit more blurry since last June and my surgery."

Barry raises his eyes to mine without changing the tilt of his head.

"How's it going with the Keppra?" He asks.

"Very well, I'm down to 100mgs Dilantin and we'll probably be reducing next week. Not even a simple partial."

Barry nods and pats my hand. I write the check, hand it over, collect my receipt and thank him.

"Keep warm and keep going....."  he calls as I turn to walk away.

"You too, Barry. You too."

Ciao per addesso,

Anna