"We see with our minds, not our eyes," the Wise Man said.
     "So why am I getting new glasses?" I wondered.
     "Because no optician on earth has the patience it would take to refocus the mind of a dumbass like you," the Wise Man replied.
     "Oh," I nodded, pretending to see His point.

- "Almost A Jester's Journal: The Accidentally Deleted Entries"

     My neighbor just bought a new red Miata sports car.  I just got a new pair of silver-framed spectacles.  Some people may think that my neighbor got the better deal but I think things came out about even since he seems to enjoy displaying his car in his front driveway about as much as I enjoy watching it lure all the car thieves away from the old Sable parked in mine.
     These spectacles are unique in my experience - and not just because they're silver-framed.  They also happen to be trifocals.  Not only does this mean that I'm officially middle-aged now, it also means that I have three times as many chances to misread the writing on the wall as before.
     Yay! 

     Not that the casual observer could ever tell that what I'm wearing are trifocals.  Why, after looking at them closely, running my tongue all over them, then consulting my receipt even I have trouble telling what they really are (though admittedly I might have had better luck had I examined that receipt before getting saliva all over the lenses).
     The fact remains that they are modern marvels.  Looking out the top third allows me to see Tokyo.  Looking out the bottom third allows me to see the trillions of bacteria crawling around on a single square millimeter of my arm.  Looking out the middle third allows me to see everything else (though that third seems particularly effective if everything else just happens to be wearing a wet T-shirt).
     Unfortunately, my eyes aren't quite adjusted to them yet.  Moving my head a bit too quickly this morning resulted in my brain concluding that huge single-cell creatures were engulfing the skyscrapers of Honshu at the very same moment that the descendants of Tojo were staking their claim to my left elbow. 
     Thank goodness my wife was home to calm me down by dangling in front of my face the brightly-colored carrying case which the optician had provided us with just in case such a situation should arise.
     Other than this, these glasses have provided me with more hours of enjoyment than anything I've had since finding that antenna-equipped conch shell on the beach allowed me to hear the roar of any one of the Seven Seas I wanted just by holding it up to an ear and twisting the little dial. 
     I look forward to spending at least a few more hours with them soon.
     Especially when I have things like this to use them on:

     My wife took well over 153 photos while she was in Canada the last two weeks but I think this one is my favorite.  It shows a cute little squirrel she found while - no wait, that's my second favorite.  This, my absolute favorite, shows a man she encountered on the streets of Vancouver.  As near as can be determined, he was not running for public office, an undercover cop, or a street performer of any other kind but a genuine artiste consumed with a passion to painfully and repeatedly flex his muscles in public simply out of love for fine grunting. 
     In case you've been wondering, that's EXACTLY why I've been writing this journal!
     Could this actually be the father I've never known?  The mentor I've long craved?  The figurehead I've been wanting to slap on the front of my home page's bow?  The patsy to take the rap when the Hague declares every word here a crime against humanity?
     The mind reels as the heart races and I embark upon an evening of binge blinking!!
     I must go first thing in the morning and order a pair of trifocal shades so I may safely continue to keep an eye on this kindred soul even after the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles arrive!!