Tony has a new hobby. It involves him coming home in the evening and poking himself repeatedly in each eye. He's been doing this every evening for a week now, and I'm proud to say that he's actually gotten pretty good at it.
(I suppose now would be a good time to explain that, wouldn't it?)
See, it all started with Tony's other hobby, which is hockey. (I believe I mentioned the vast amount of economic stimulation in the form of hockey gear that has been arriving via UPS and FedEx for the past few weeks?) Well, Tony decided that he's going to switch from the "just a bunch of guys who get together and play hockey for the fun of it" league to the "Just a bunch of guys who get together and say they play hockey for the fun of it, but secretly have a ridiculously competitive streak that causes them to hit harder, grunt louder, and basically get ever closer to giving themselves a coronary" league.
And for this new, faster, stronger league, (and its accompanying grunting and hitting and coronary-ing) Tony needed all new goalie equipment. Part of this required equipment was a new goalie mask, which arrived just the other day, much to Tony's kid-at-Christmas level of excitement.
(Here's the thing you need to know about goalie masks: They're sized by the circumference of the wearer's head. They're designed to be snug so as not to fly off, and putting them on involves a level of intimacy between a face and said mask that most marriages would be thrilled to achieve. In a nutshell- it's a close fit).
And Tony, being the good goalie that he is, dutifully measured the circumference of his head and ordered the corresponding mask. What he didn't take into account, however, were his glasses. Tony pulled the helmet on. The glasses got stuck. He tried again. The glasses got stuck. He wiggled the mask this way and that. The glasses got caught on his nose and tried to rip his ear off. Without the glasses, he could get the mask on just fine, but there was no way that he'd ever be able to see a puck barreling at him at 120mph. With the glasses, he could see the puck, but he couldn't get the mask on, and without it wouldn't survive said puck's impact. He was, as they say, in a pickle.
And this is where the eye-poking comes in, because it was suddenly clear that if Tony wanted to see AND wear his pretty new mask, he needed to break down and get some contacts.
[I realize that in this day and age, Tony may be one of the few glasses-wearing people on the planet who does not also wear contacts, but he's never expressed any desire to jam foreign objects into his eyes, and I've never encouraged it. The fact is, I love Tony's glasses. Even though he has beautiful eyes, I've always been a sucker for the optically challenged, and find myself inexplicably drawn to men with spectacles. (Right down to my mad crush on Egon from the animated Ghostbusters cartoon...sad, I know). But hockey is also a part of Tony, and if contacts are what he needs in order to play, then that is what we'll get...just as long as he still wears the glasses around me].
So Tony went to the optometrist during his lunch break last week, and they showed him how to poke it onto his eyeball. And he poked, and he prodded, and pulled all his eyelashes out while trying to keep himself from blinking. And the contact did its part by flipping inside out, and refusing to stick to his eye, and basically rolling into a little ball and playing dead whenever he got close. And eventually, Tony had to go back to work. But the optometrist told him not to worry...he'd get it eventually, and to go home and practice poking himself in the eyes every day with an imaginary contact until they are red and watery and it looks like he's been on a three day bender.
Fast forward to today, when he was FINALLY able to get his contacts in. I knew that he'd been working on them, but even so, when he turned to look at me sans glasses, it was a shock. It completely changes the look of his face. And if I thought he was cute before...well, I was certainly not prepared for this new look. (I'm going to let you in on a little secret...my husband is a total hottie . And his fantastic green eyes are his best feature. A lot of people don't realize this because Tony is a lot like Superman. Glasses on, and he's mild-mannered husband. But glasses off, he smolders. It's amazing. Women swoon in the street).
"Listen," I instructed, "some woman tries to flirt with you, I want you to punch her in the face and then run away, okay?"
He laughed. "Punch her in the face-got it".
"And then come get me so I can punch her in the face too".
He rolled his eyes. He thinks I'm joking.
The amazing thing with all of this is that he doesn't even realize how beautiful his eyes are. (I tell him, but he thinks I'm just crazy). And further more, he doesn't even care. He just wants to play hockey and wear his new goalie mask. But I guess that's the wonderful thing about Tony...new look or no, he's the same sweet, hard-working, awesome guy on the inside. He's never vain, or arrogant, or egocentric. He has a good soul, which in this day and age, is really even more beautiful than his eyes.
But I'll still punch you in the face if you get too close.