I'll be 41 in March which means, unfortunately, I have old eyeballs.
My eyes are one feature of mine I'm fairly proud of. They're green, like my dad's, and prettily-shaped, like my mom's. I get complimented on them frequently. I'm not bragging (well, OK, maybe I am), but I was stopped in the grocery store last year by a leather-clad biker-looking guy who asked me if anyone had told me that day how pretty I was, and didn't I have the most beautiful green eyes. (At least I know if anything happens to Steve, I've got a shot with the Harley Davidson crowd.)
But I have to face it. They're old. After decades of stitching on fine fabric in near-darkness, I started using an over-the-shoulder Ott-Lite recently. And this weekend, while working on the new Jenny Bean sampler (on 40 count), I said, "Hey, Graham, can I borrow your reading glasses for a sec?" And wouldn't you know it, it was EASIER to see the fabric. Go figure!
Steve gave me a little bit of a bad time. He said something like, "Ha ha, your eyes are old," and I stuck my 40-count linen in his face. "Well," I said, "can YOU see these holes?" "Hey, I WEAR glasses," he said. Steve's about as blind as a potato.
A sweet potato.