I’m off to the eye doctor first thing in the morning to prepare me for round 2 of my cataract surgery, something I am learning that almost every American with any health insurance will find themselves doing. That would be my left eye, and I’ll get a new lens in a few weeks. I can’t wait.

The two eyes are now different, and it’s hard to get comfortable with one so different from the other.

Suck it up time; the surgery is a miracle, something to celebrate, not a complaint about. Many of my friends say they could never bear lying down while somebody sticks a needle in your eye, but it all happened so fast and so painlessly that I didn’t even know it had taken place. Keeping my mouth shut was the hard part.

I had a good day with my flower bomb photos.

I have finally stopped mixing up the names of Bud or Zip in my head, causing the correction police to look elsewhere for fresh targets. They’ll be back, and so will my Dyslexia and advancing age. I like to think that I will always need correcting and always have; my wife would agree.

I’m learning to see the good in it; it makes me better and more humble. Some people do it for me; others do it for them.

My grandmother was right, though; it was always rude, she said, to correct people you don’t know. She said it was an excellent way to get hung or shot back in the old country.  Hmmm….

I like the flower bomb photos a lot. Here are some more. All kinds of pictures can be photo bombs if they go off in your head. See you in the morning.