Find the line, find the shape through the grain.

Sometime, if I'm feeling particularly spiteful toward you, I'll describe in detail what it's like to get Lasik eye surgery. But for now, because I love you, I'll just say that it appears to have been successful (though the surgeon said it was the hardest one he'd ever done). I'm typing this without glasses and I can see reasonably well, although it's like someone smeared Vaseline over the lenses of my eyes. So I'm pretending that I'm in a really bad porno flick. One with no sex in it, or even bow-chicka-wow music.

I have a little bottle of artificial tears in my shirt pocket, which I am to apply whenever I feel dry or itchy in the eye region. The term "artificial tears" has a nice poetic resonance for me.

So I'm not wearing glasses anymore, although I did get a cool pair of wraparound Bono shades that I'm supposed to wear to bed for the next four days or so, so that I don't accidentally rub my eyes in my sleep. That's the big no-no: no rubbing the eyes! And no driving for a couple of days. We're heading down to Mountain View in an hour or two to spend a couple of nights with our supercool Ragsdale-Bourrillion friends, and Marla, who loves to drive anyway, is trying (and failing) not to gloat over the fact that she gets to drive the whole time.

Eye eye eye eye, canta y no llores.