I sometimes refer to myself as the Finder of Lost Things. I am most excellent at finding things, probably because I am so damn excellent at losing things. I lose coats, keys, phones, and most especially hats. But we’ll get to the many hats of Bartholomew Robbins in a later blog post.

So, it was no surprise that I would lose my glasses once I had to start wearing them to read. I’ve had glasses for several years, and they became necessary to read about the same time my grand-kids started to come along. I could no longer read the warnings on the blood pressure medication I was taking [cut some weight and alcohol intake and I’m off them for now]. So, I get my prescription updated every year and get lens every two. I drove over one of the pairs and they’re less useful now. But I have two pairs of fairly expensive glasses: reading and the new progressive lenses.

Because of my propensity for leaving glasses places, I’ve taken to buying dollar store readers. Even though I’m supposed to be wearing the progressives all the time, they are inadequate for using on the computer. The focal point for reading is so low that I end getting a hitch in my neck. So, not long after I got them, I misplaced them. They are in their case and I’m quite certain I will find them in my house or in one of the cars.

Then I went to Books by the Bay Book Festival and Authors Conference at the Bellwether in Bellingham. I lost the nice prescription pair of readers. I called their front desk and was told that they had many pairs of glasses, I should come in and see if they had mine. So, I finally managed to find the time to go check, mostly because I had lost most of my dollar store readers and I figured I could make one trip or the other in the time I had available. So I got to the Bellwether without any glasses. They brought out the box and my eyes focused (as well as I could focus) on one of the dozen plus pairs of glasses in the box. They looked like mine, except for the fact that one of the arms wasn’t bent. I figure whoever picked them up, might have straightened them, and put them on.

But I was still uncertain if they were my glasses. The desk attendant suggested that they had been there for some time and since they didn’t have a name or room number attached, they probably were mine. I thanked her and took them home. When my partner, Elena, got home I asked her if they were mine. She looked quizzically at me and said, “I don’t know.” A few days later when my daughter came over, she told me they were not my glasses. I’m still not sure. So, I’m hoping that either the owner doesn’t come back or that perhaps he took my glasses. If I do end up finding my pair, I will feel some chagrin. Maybe I’ll check in with my optometrist and see if they can tell me, but until then… I’m glad that I can see clearly now, my brain is gone…

If you want to help my buy some more glasses, please check out my books and stuff for sale at www.desertedlands.com. Thanks.