New glasses by #Bonlook

I’m not a handbag gal, a shoe maven, or really a collector of much of anything save for my small fetish with Melmac dishware. What I do collect are glasses, especially cat-eye glasses. I wear them nearly every day and although this strikes some people as excessive, I think anything we put on our faces every day should enjoy a little variety. I’m always keeping my eyes peeled (ha! punny!) for a cool pair of cat eye specs.

Fast forward to this last fall. I follow A Beautiful Mess on the ‘gram and I noticed Elsie and Emma had collaborated with a brand yet unknown to me, Bonlook on a truly fair pair. They called their glasses the Jack and Norma. C’mon. So cute. I had not yet seen this sort of space age green before, but it reminded me a little of my Melmac dishware if it were coopted by aliens and made into glasses. Gnarly stuff.

Elsie rocking the Jack and Norma signature ABM/Bonlook collab specs
Elsie rocking the Jack and Norma signature ABM/Bonlook collab specs

I kept my focus (puns for days) on Bonlook, waiting to see if any of their cat eye specs that struck my fancy would go on sale. Patience rewarded me and a new year’s sale netted these beauts for $79, plus an additional $30 as my prescription requires a heftier lens. A praise of customer service: when I could not get the discount code to activate, the online customer service applied the discount by sending me the equivalent of 20% off, which immediately hit my bank account. Big ups, Bonlook.

Bonlook has considered all the nice little touches as an online purveyor of specs. I found the site easy to use, particularly the virtual try on feature. I always have a print-out of my prescription and a ruler for measuring the distance between my pupils, which you will need if you wear prescription eyewear.

When the frames arrived, they came in a cute print lined box, and I’m dazzled with my new bubblegum pink case.

Bonlook
Bonlook

The frames have served me well for a week now and they are sturdy, the glare factor is nil, and the comfort level is high.
Bonlook

Bonlook has not sponsored this post but if you, too, would like to enjoy a discount on your first pair, you should feel really free to click on this link as my friend referral. Woop!
BONLOOK DISCOUNT FOR KENDRASPONDENCE READERS

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2015: The year of the release

We were just talking in bed, Loverpants and I, as we do more often, now that we have children who can breathe on their own. And that was the point, I was explaining to him. This year has been a watershed one for me because I no longer feel like I need to breathe for my children. My lungs started working overtime at the birth of my children, and it has been unceasing, this breathing for them, until recently when I felt released.

2015-11-05 18.58.35Parenting in America will do that to a person predisposed to control issues. If you read the books and practice the fine art of narrating your life aloud, you will appear in command of your and your child’s life, which is just as vilified as it is rewarded in America. Hashtag helicopter parenting. You oftentimes feel so responsible for the entertainment and well-being of your child that you will feel tethered to him/her at all times, much like you are breathing for him/her. 2015-11-05 20.25.29

You become a ventriloquist controlled by an unseen ventriloquist called SuperParent. But then one day you realize even ventriloquists take turns speaking for themselves and their puppets.

2015-11-05 21.00.00This year has been gracious to me in showing me my condition. My helicopter propellers were about to fall off.  My lungs were on the verge of collapsing. My ventriloquism wasn’t even very good. I went to a conference in October and did a lot of talking to myself and listening to God and walking up and down the streets of Greenville, SC until I was good and ready to come home a new woman mom teacher human BEING, not a human DOING as my bosslady says. 2015-11-05 20.16.21

Above: Christmas at the Clay Pot

I resolved: I had to stop stressing over Baby Girl’s spelling tests. This was second grade, after all, and I had already passed the class myself. I had to let Little Man sit in the hula-hoop of shame at gymnastics and not send him laser glares from the balcony. I had to bench myself, both as a coach and a player, over and over because this wasn’t my game. I was only a fan in the stands.

2015-11-05 21.36.21As I let go of my clipboard and picked up my pom-poms, strange things started happening. Baby Girl started getting 14/12 on her spelling tests. Little Man emancipated himself from the hula-hoop of shame. My team started winning and I had nothing and everything to do with it. I could feel my lungs relaxing a little–what was this new elevation? It was manageable and less stressful. I went to the gym more and gave myself permission to sit at my kitchen table and play with markers and glitter and be a hobbyist.  The only unhealthy obsession I nurtured this past year was with watching every episode of “Friday Night Lights.” And pondering why Michelle Obama and I are not yet best friends. 2015-11-05 20.26.19

I trusted that my kids could handle some consequences of their own making. I released myself from this tightly-wound rope and–what do you know? It might have made me more available for sessytime with Loverpants. I’m saying it’s a possibility. WINK.

“This has been a very creative year for you,” Loverpants said as I was starting a new chapter of a novel that was not written by Roald Dahl. There could not have been a higher compliment coming from my dashing counterpart. He recognized someone who was no longer immersed in creating problems and creating opportunities to provide air support. He saw someone creating things that brought delight and in so doing she was creating space for change. Change this past year has looked like a lot of glitter glue and paint on the kitchen table, and four members of the FamiLee breathing a little easier. God bless us, every one.

2015-11-05 20.05.13

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Yogurt Girl and Scone Girl and me

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Tennessee, paying for my self-serve yogurt and the cashier did that thing where she prolonged the transaction for A WHOLE 4 SECONDS. She paused to verify my phone number for the rewards program. It took four seconds. In that four seconds, the gal in line behind me sighed loudly and, in protest to this four seconds to which she felt entitled to not be waiting in line behind me, plucked a blueberry or a chocolate chip or probably a piece of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (because this yogurt place is crazy like that) and ate it. Without paying for it. Because, forget capitalism, to heyyyy’all with honesty, zap it all to zero because how could you make me wait in line with this Cinnamon Toast Crunch that doesn’t even melt for four more seconds of my life when I could have spent it paying for it? Or who knows, if I had that four seconds back, I could possibly have been inventing a way for frozen yogurt to not melt so fast or I could have developed an app for legal line-skipping. Imagine the possibilities!!

Jane Thompson AKA Gordon

***

Yesterday, I was in Ohio for my sister’s wedding shower and I was standing at the counter of a cafe paying for my latte and scone. I ordered the chocolate and hazelnut scone because it sounded life-changing.

“Oh! You got the last one!” said the gal waiting behind me in line. She asked the cashier if they were going to make more, because she really seemed desperate for that scone. I suppose a nicer person could have just let her have the scone, but I am spending too much in therapy to not assert what I really want sometimes, even if it’s a complex carbohydrate that I don’t really need.

Then, the gal behind me said, “Ugh, I really wanted that scone!” and I kid you not, she actually stuck her tongue out at me.

Mrs. Winsor McCay  (LOC)

***

Let the record state: I prefer the tongue sticker-outer infinitely more than I do the loud sigher. I will almost always favor the overt rather than the oblique. I prize the courageous one who will say it (or stick it) to my face, versus passive aggressively shoving it in their mouths in protest. The variable here is age, as I would presume the sighing lady was at least ten years my junior. The tongue lady was presumably my age or older. The one who sneaks and the one who sticks out–the range of their ages is not as great as the range of their behaviors.

I am generalizing here, but the above behaviors represent the two regions where I have lived. By showing two incidents where indignation flared while waiting in line to pay for food, I have witnessed the North and South, respectively. In the South, one rarely confronts. One steams in private and then, after composing oneself, one will address the matter if necessary. In the North, people will generally look you in the eye and say what they feel. I am a daughter of the North, largely the folksy Midwest but I borrow the assertiveness of New England, and this makes me a misfit here in the land of the peacekeepers and the watercooler whisperers. And yet, as much as I wanted to stick my tongue out at the yogurt girl, the South has taught me to reign it in, to move along, to deal with it later when I am not feeling so Northern confrontational about it. Bless my little heart.

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