So I bought myself a treat in California last week.

Just before heading to LAX, R-kids and I accidentally found ourselves wandering Abbott Kinney Boulevard, a mile-long stretch of hip, happening California that satisfied all the creative parts of me that Disneyland never could.

The sun was shining, the sky was bluer than I had seen in ages, the street was buzzing, and we only had an hour and a half to soak it all in.

But have no fear, that was plenty of time to find hundreds of things I wanted. As a bonus, I did find at least one thing I could honestly put in the category of “need” and not just “really, really want, please.”

It was a new pair of readers.

The kind of readers that one would definitely not find in one’s local grocery mart. If that is where one has happened to buy previous pairs of readers.


Both children approved (one of them immediately, one after some consideration, which, I admit, might mean he just didn’t have the energy to answer another, “Are you sure? What about now?”).

I guess maybe the refreshing change of perspective brought on by traveling had me feeling ready to see the world through a fresh lens. Why shouldn’t that lens be made-in-Paris, bought-in-Venice? I couldn’t think of a reason.

I did have to momentarily grieve the fact that I’ve apparently already graduated from 1.25 to 1.5 readers, but what can be done?


So far, the world is looking good through my new lenses.

But the best part of these specs might be the brand name.

Every woman in my life who’s seen the logo on my glasses case has done exactly what I did—attempted 15 or 16 variations of how to pronounce it.

Astoundingly, all the men (so far) who’ve seen this logo laying around have casually, without hesitation or question, spouted out the one pronunciation that none of us girls even came close to—and it’s the only one that I suspect is correct.

Easy peasy.

I’m not saying we might be overthinking things, girls. But I’m just saying.

We might need a new lens once in a while.