Rainbows & Waterproof Mascara

I'm currently lounging in a random Starbucks nursing a burnt tongue and gettin' jiggy to the hyphy music blasting. Yes, in a Starbucks. I'm assuming it has everything to do with the San Francisco Giants winning the World Series last night. I keep wondering why no one else is dancing.

A good friend of mine is fond of saying that nothing will ever change if you don't do something different. This delightful little jingle has become the foundation of my thought processes this past month, as the nippy air swirling around has begun to paint the leaves around California varying shades of tangerine. October passed in a flash. Visited the sister in San Luis Obispo where I watched her and her Southern Gentleman of a boyfriend complete a half-marathon hand in hand (I have now been inspired to run one myself, even if I have to hold my own hand). I consumed more Happy Hour margaritas with my best friend than I'd care to admit. I quietly wept in front of Van Gogh paintings flown in from Paris. I watched every Giants game as soon as I got home from work and felt like a 35 year old white male. I dressed up as a unicorn for Halloween and am still discovering glitter in unmentionable places. Most of all, I committed to rearranging my heart so that God would be my first priority. Not the first time a commitment like this has been made by yours truly, but this time, a lot of thought has been given to the things I've always considered important in my life. Boys. Friends. Art. The Nordstrom Half Yearly Sale. I won't bore you with details Internet, but I'm really excited to see where God takes my life in the next few months. As always, I'll be sure to keep you updated.

I feel stronger.

The same "do something different" friend accompanied me this past Saturday to a Vision Conference in San Francisco put on by the Foundation Fighting Blindness. Hundreds of people attended, all of them yearning to hear my eye doctor, the goddess Jacque Duncan, lecture on the latest treatment options available for RP. Did I mention that a good deal of those in attendance were blind? Not Laura blind, where squealing is often heard issuing out of my mouth when I walk into a wall, and where I call my cell phone at least twice a week because I can't see it sitting right in front of me. I'm klutzy on the scale of glasses to guide dog. And guide dogs there were. Many of them. Including one who tried to eat my cranberry muffin. Bad guide dog. Anyway, I was expecting the onslaught of white canes and dogs, and was preparing myself for a self-pity sesh, waterproof mascara applied and everything. But no such sob fest occurred. Maybe it was the rainbow that splashed across the gray sky on the drive there. Maybe it was the sight of my genius of a doctor, or the content she was lecturing on - she stressed again and again that the future offers hope, as more and more research is being conducted across the world. Maybe it was the sight of my friend taking notes on my behalf. Although it might have been for his own behalf. You never know when you're going to wake up without peripheral vision. Or maybe it was simply that God removed any and all worry from my heart. I don't know how or why, and I certainly didn't deserve it, but He took care of me. I giggled when the guide dog was able to sneak a lick of my muffin and his owner obviously didn't notice.

I reserve the right to giggle because I will be there someday. And I know I will be fine.