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You are getting notice of my new blog post on Tuesday morning at the same time that I am getting my new eye. Not a whole eye. A lens. The surgeon is removing the mature cataract in my left eye—two years ago he removed the mature one in my right–and is putting in an artificial lens. And not because I am a repeater or older (aren’t we all?) he is also providing car service to and from his facility. It is a simple, quick procedure.* My first went well. The surgeon is renown. Still, they will be taking my blood pressure a zillion times between my arrival at the facility and their wheeling me to the operating room. And I’ll be signing a zillion more forms. To stay calm, collected, and happy, here are the things I did the past several days with my “in sickness and in health” person and my good eye.

–Had brunch with my kids and grandson. He gave me a million smiles. I gave him a million hugs.

–Had a favorite dinner at my favorite neighborhood Japanese restaurant where I’ve been going for thirty some years.

–Spent a day in Montauk, eating fried clams and homemade ice cream, staring at the ocean, and remembering why we love Montauk.

–Bought a new, much needed bed. I have had the old one much longer than I have had my husband. Nothing further or raunchy to say on the subject. Just wanna avoid back pain and sciatica, sleep better or at least past 3:00 am and….

–Keep the music alive. We do that not just before surgery but regularly. In small and big ways. We sure did that at Radio City Music Hall seeing Leonard Cohen.

After skipping onto the stage, he told the audience that he didn’t know when we’d all meet again, but for the evening, he would give us all he’s got. He did. He began with DANCE ME TO THE END OF LOVE and ended close to midnight, doing several songs after rocking our worlds with HALLELUJAH. Then he skipped off the stage and into the night.

Trying to put Leonard Cohen’s magic into words is just ridiculous.

So good-bye to you until we meet here again. I must drop four kinds of drops into my left eye before my chariot/car service arrives. Tomorrow I may be singing, “I Can See Clearly Now” and “There’s a Bright Golden Haze on the Meadow….”

For now and always… HALLELUJAH!

*At my age, it is best to call the fixing, inserting, removing and replacing the doctor does a “procedure.”


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