“What choice do we have?” the optometrist mutters sadly when I say something flip about having to go out to demonstrate.  I had just paid an enormous price for a pair of glasses I fell in love with – even though I love the pair I have.  These were really gorgeous, even though Ezi sniffed at them, and I thought at least the optometrist should be happy that he made a fortune in 10 minutes.  

But he got me thinking about choices.  I mean, I chose the glasses, but I can’t choose anything else.  I didn’t have anything to say about a terrorist prisoner going on a hunger strike and then dying.  And we just had 20 rockets over Gaza as punishment for his death.  That wasn’t a choice either – it was an opportunity.  Yeah, we seem to be falling apart, so this occasion was used as a test.  And we don’t have much choice as far as a reaction is concerned.  We have to react, especially since someone was injured and people are in shock, but we can’t react too much because we shouldn’t start a full-scale war right now.  

So I’m going to treasure these glasses (once they’re ready maybe next week) because they will be what I chose, hands down, over my husband and the optometrist’s indifference, and my awareness that my budget doesn’t allow for them, and the fact that I really never choose expensive things that will make people’s eyes pop out.

Wish me luck for the only choice I had to make this year.