Two ways my parents can scare the crap out of each other this Halloween

My mother has Graves disease, a thyroid disorder which, in her case, has affected one of her eyes. She's had two operations to get things mostly back to normal, but the disease basically causes the eye to open wider than it should as well as causes some vision problems. My mom's been absolutely stoic through the whole thing. She talks about how it's "annoying" whereas should I have had this problem I'd been beating the ground with my fist and demanding J bring my ice cream because God is putting me through such agony and I need comfort. Many times a day I'd indulge in such a scene. Luckily my mom's got it all pretty well sorted out. She might have one more operation in the future, but all in all, her eye is looking so much better and she's just been such a trooper I couldn't be more proud to have her as a parent. So, you know, it's totally ok that I find humor in her disease because she, unlike me, can surely take it. My father called me this morning to tell me how wonderful I am and also to tell me about his newfound jaw pain and the fact that the dentist is giving him a mouth guard. Now, I myself had a mouthguard when I was in high school for teeth grinding and I'd wake up in the morning having thrown the thing halfway across the room in my sleep. They're fragile and cost like 80 million dollars, so this wasn't the ideal way to handle the precious commodity but hey, I was sleeping it wasn't my fault. Anyway, I wish my father the best of luck with that contraption.

He said that wearing it would be funny, what with my mom wearing Saran Wrap and all. My mom met with the doc again this week and he informed her that wrapping Saran Wrap around her eyes and head while she's sleeping would probably help keep the affected eye moist. Saran Wrap! This might beat the time my dad donned an elastic nurse's cap - you know, one of those paper garments worn in the ER - and bounded out in the front yard to greet my little brother. Just a bathrobe and a nurse's cap. It was for the "itchiness". You know, to keep him from itching his head. Naturally.

I'll listen.

Twentysixyears.blogspot.com is really a misnomer, isn't it. I'm no longer 26. Let's get down to it. I'm 27. And 27 means it's time to think about my hopes and dreams in a very mature, methodical way. Like: What do you want do for a living? Like that.

When I was a youngster, an adorable blond-headed precious young child, I stumbled across writing in an English class and never looked back. I proudly announced to my parents that I would be a writer and they were so happy about that, more so than they were about my whimsical cranberry-farming scheme, that I figured I must have hit the goldmine.

Well, a goldmine, in the financial sense, it is not, but at a career expo today I did have a rendezvous with that part of me. That part that, you know, got it. The part that seems to, of late, have been suffocated by the wedding-planning, email-checking, looking-for-something-better part.

You see, I don't have any particular interests besides writing. And reading of course ("Interests: reading, writing..."). I tried. I got into horses, which led to a couple ribbons and some really pathetic diary entries from the pre-adolescent years in which I wanted to become a good horseback rider and also wanted to experience my first-ever kiss with a dual intensity unlike any I've seen since. I was a pretty good French student, but my desire to become fluent in any language since has been limited to fleeting moments when I can't get what I want ("Red wine per favore...?"). And you're not going to believe this, but I'm a damn good actress. Not award winning or anything but in college my Acting for Non-Majors class did a performance at the end of the year and I heard my friends oohs and aahs as I flaunted my skills. Damn good. But not ready to trot on out to Hollywood at this point. Too much competition.

The only thing I've really kept up with, for all my life, is that I like people to tell me about what they do. Be it their job, or their passion for herding cattle. I used to think I was impressionable. And don't get me wrong, I am. But it's more than that. When someone tells me about chiropractic adjustments, I'm pretty much sold. Accupunture? Sounds good. Avian Influenza? I'm terrified. Growing marsh plants, managing corporate offices, making really excellent cookies. You name it. I can't help but be enthralled, and I've decided that that's where my talents lie.

Luckily this line of work, in whatever form I choose to pursue it, fosters my interest in people - and their interests.

Today, at the career expo, I spent a good long while learning about types of wood from a guy I've known for the two years I've worked here. He's got a sawmill and showed me about six kinds he'd cut himself, naming their properties, right down to why the woodpeckers like pecan.

I won't get into it myself, the wood, but I'm glad he has. And when I write my book, I'll dedicate it to all the people in the world, all the interesting people, and I'll be thankful that I got over the horses, but, I mean, if someone offered me a role in an off-Broadway musical, well, I'd still be a little tempted to say yes.