The novelty has worn off....

My Dear Mouth,

Ok. I've had enough. The percocet was fun and all... but I'm ready for you to stop hurting. I know you're sore at me for having put you through the torture that is dental work. I appreciate the effort you put out in getting me through that. I understand that you're angry with me. Other than treat you to the glorious coffee that you love... I don't know what else I can do to make amends.

I have brushed you oh-so-gently... I have eaten the softest foods I can find. I don't know what else to do to coax you into not hurting anymore. When I take the percocet I pretty much can't function...

Help me help you. Stop hurting.

Thanks in advance.

Sincerely,
the rest of my face

Update on old gay BFF

Remember a few posts back I said something about having contacted my old gay BFF from way back on myspace? He has checked on myspace and he DID NOT CONTACT ME!!! I sent him a message... nothing. SO DISAPPOINTING.

To mix or not, that is the question.

Dental work, Percocets and my job don't mix!

Percocets and frosties mix quite well.

Percocets and mac-n-cheese (from the box, thank you very much) work.

Percocets and reading don't work. Percocets and reading vampire fiction? REALLY don't work.

Percocets and sleeping, works like nobodies bidness... unless you've read vamp fiction... then not as well.

So, as you might can tell, I had more dental work done. This time I had TWO teeth removed, a root canal, and a cavity filled. That and an extensive cleaning. I've mentioned my love for my dentists lack of discretion regarding the use of narcotics. He gave me two Halcion to start with... then another halfway through. He gave me nitrous. And then gave me my precious percocets at the end.

Thanks to the Halcions and the nitrous, I slept through the root canal and the cavity. I woke up when they were cleaning. Then they gave me the third halcion, and I went back to sleep while they pulled my teeth.

While I"m on the subject. Here's a warning to y'all that think you know what's best when it comes to dentistry. If they tell you that you have to get your wisdom teeth out at age 18, they're not joking. They're not trying to just make money off of you. They mean it. I have lost the two teeth in front of my wisdom teeth on top (one off of each side) thanks to my ignorance. It doesn't matter how well you brush, or floss. If there isn't room, there just isn't room. And then, all the sudden (literally it feels) you're 34 years old, writing a blogger post on the benefits or percocet due to extensive dental work. Sucks. Only not, cause, HELLO! PERCOCET!!

I know that I speak of my percocet love a lot. I will admit this... I could totally be a pill head. If there was unlimited access to them, I'd be in trouble. Fortunately, I only have 17 left. I have to use them sparingly.

Dear readers, in all seriousness... I am not a narcotic junkie. I can barely function, much less work and live while taking percocet. I just figure I had better take advantage of it and enjoy it while I'm in pain. Hee.

Coming Home

Many times in my life I thought I was in love. Turns out I was not. Not even close. Part of me knew that at the time, but a larger part of me was sure that even though that might be true... I could always make it what I wanted it to be. Turns out I was wrong about that too.

Realizing what a cliche this is, I'm going to say it anyway. Meeting Mark was like coming home for the first time in my lifetime. I was 31. I had been married before, I had been in my fair share (and then some) of adult relationships. The first night we met, I knew. I couldn't tell you what exactly, I knew... but I knew it was different, special. I didn't realize how exactly right I was.

We've been together just over two years now... every morning he kisses me goodbye and I miss him already. I can't wait to talk to him later in the day (he calls me every morning at 9am, it's the sweetest thing ever and it makes my day.) After we get off work, I can't wait to get home and see him.

As far as literal "coming home"... when I walk in the door I am greeted by the most enthusiastic creature known to mankind. My pup Thor cannot wait even one second to be picked up. He is whining and jumping and scratching. And as soon as you pick him up, he puts both paws around your neck and puts his cheek to your cheek for the best puppy hug you've ever had. It's awesome!

So, the point of this rambling entry is this: There is no place like home. There is no place like home. There is no place like home.

CRAP!

I don't think my sister-in-law liked the bag! She said she liked it, but I am really not so sure. She was all "sure I like it, it's nice, you made it right?"

FUCK ME. That cuts me deep.

Bags and Table runners! OH MY!!

Here's a table runner I made in my class with Gumbogirl, it's not quite finished yet.




A bag I made for my sister-in-law for her birthday this weekend:

Intelligence for MY life??!

When working for a non-for-profit Catholic hospital, the employees are not permitted to listen to anything other than “lite” radio.  The third shift workers are then obligated to listen to John Tesh Radio.  Mr. John Tesh spins some of the most melancholy music imaginable.  His tunes are so depressing that it makes one wonder if John Tesh himself is on Prozac, or if he is not, maybe he is getting paid by the pharmaceutical companies to bring his listeners down.  Mr. Tesh, however, declares that his goal is to give his listeners “Intelligence for Your Life.”  This is a noble and honorable quest, but as I listen, I cannot help but wonder who this “intelligence” is aimed at.

            Tonight’s big topic is a four step plan designed to help you leave work stress at work.  He begins with an analogy, “Pick low hanging fruit.”  I think this means to start with the small things on the list and work your way up from there.  He says that we will feel a sense of accomplishment if we have returned phone calls, replied to emails, or tackled our stack of post-it notes.  This advice begs the question, when are we supposed to do the actual work?  At my job, and many other jobs, most of our time is spent dealing with “small” things.  As the day progresses, more and more small things begin to stack up. This makes me wonder if John Tesh has ever had a “real” job.  Also, it seems to me that most of the small things that need to be done come after you have finished the rest of your work. Seriously, how can you answer questions about a page three of a report that you have not written yet? Alright, maybe that is a stretch, but in all honesty, small things are never what loom over your head at night and wake you in a cold sweat.

            His next suggestion is to turn off the radio. I find this one particularly fascinating because- he's on the radio! So I would like to think that this indicates that John Tesh knows he is full of it and understands that his role should not be to commiserate, but rather, simply put, just to play the music. But, I digress. How can a radio DJ actually encourage his listeners to turn him off? I wonder if his sponsors heard this one and if so, do you think Eli Lilly pulled their funding? 

His third suggestion is to take the back roads to and from work. This is a clear indication that John Tesh is morning person. Obviously he has not had to rush to get to work by 7am. Otherwise, he'd know that the lackadaisical route is not going to be his listener’s choice when they have 5 minutes to cover a 15 minute drive. I also have to wonder if this means he has no reason to go home or need to pick up children, cook dinner, or has ever just finished working a 16 hour shift wanting nothing more to magically be transported to his bed sans the drive home in the first place! John Tesh and I clearly have nothing in common.  I'm always in a big hurry to get home and all I have waiting for me is my cat and piles of laundry.

The last suggestion for leaving work at work is to hit the showers when you get home. I like this one. He says washing creates a psychological and physical boundary. It is literally washing the day's stress off of you. I don't know about all that, I just think most people don't smell all that great after eight, nine, or ten plus hours at work and a shower refreshes them and makes them, and the people around them, happier. I know my cat agrees.

He sums this all up by saying that if we follow his suggestions then we'll be less stressed out people at home. Of course it is highly possible that we will lose our jobs because we don't finish any of our assignments, or worse, because we never get to work in the first place. But the bright side is this; all our phone calls and emails are answered, we never have to listen to his suggestions again, and we always smell minty fresh!

So my options are to continue listening to John Tesh, and quite possibly have my eyes permanently rolled toward the back of my head, or to simply turn off the radio. While turning the radio off may very well seem like the more appropriate choice (for really, who wants to be depressed?) The silence that remains is deafening, reminding me that I’m not where I should be, want to be, or could be.  Of the two options? I’ll take John Tesh.

mmmhhhhhh Dead bodies?

TWOFER: Condesation and Gay boys with free coffees

Numero Uno: Condensation.

Last night my husband, smart man that he is, commented to me that the freezer on our relatively brand new refrigerator had recently accumulated some ice. It's not supposed to do that because it's a self-defrosting blah blah blah kind of fridge. So I go in and look at it and there are ice crystals here and there, but they're only at the edge of the freezer basket (we have a bottom freezer.)

I say to him, it's ok, the door just wasn't shut and air got in. He says that's stupid, it's a freezer, air doesn't cause ice, freezers do. I sighed, I could see that this conversation was going no where fast. And even if I explained it, he was going to argue with me, that's just who he is. But, the glutton that I am, I did it anyway. I told him.. the door doesn't get shut, the warm air from the outside seeps in mixing with the very cold air of the freezer. THEN condensation forms. Once the freezer door is shut right, or perhaps before that even, the condensation turns to, WHAT? oh, that's right! ICE! Goof ball. He still couldn't tell me I was right.

He says he doesn't understand my "need" to be right all the time. That's not it at all. I don't "need" to be anything, any of the time... I just AM. Herein lies his problem. The man fancies himself smarter than me. He proceeded to tell me last night that HE knew more about science than I do (Hi. Degree in applied science? Who do you belong to? "Jennifer" it whispers in that "I see dead people" type of voice. But I digress...) So again, he was wrong. He needs to learn just to accept that 9/10 times when we're talking about something like this, I will be right. If we were talking about a tv show or movie or anything pop cultural, HE would be right 9/10 times. It's just the way it is.

Numero dos: Gay boy and free coffee!

I stop at the WaWa every morning for coffee. I could make coffee at home, but A) I am lazy and B) I am lazy. There's a new cashier there. He's very blond, very cute, very friendly, and very gay. He reminded me of a friend I used to have named Jim. I'll get to that part in a minute.

When I get my coffee in the morning, I usually also get a nutritious breakfast item such as mini-donuts... or a muffin. Several days in a row now he has neglected to ring up my coffee. He just winks at me and tells me to have a great day! So, naturally, I adore him.

He said to me yesterday "You're too pretty not to smile. If you're going to come in here each morning, you're going to have to put a smile on that face." Being told you're pretty by a gay boy is infinitely more rewarding than being told you're pretty by a straight boy. Here's why. Stereotypically, gay boys have a better appreciation for all things beautiful. Also, they're looking at you as a person, not as a conquest. So if one of them thinks you're pretty, it's because he really thinks that... not because he wants an all-pass access to your vajaja. Ya know?

So free coffee, gay boy compliments, and always being right is a great great way to start a day!!!

So my friend Jim.... I met him when I was 18 or 19, not sure. He was so cute, but my girlfriend liked him and his friend liked me, so that's how we all ended up. We spent several weekends like that, it was great. Then we all just broke up for whatever reason. (He came out of the closet a few years later.) Except Jim and I seemed to maintain a friendship via snail mail and phone calls. For several years we were friends. Then he moved out to Arizona and I saw him one more time, for lunch. I haven't seen or talked to him since.

Until last night. I FOUND HIM! On myspace of course. I am so excited. I had such a crush on him, he just always made me comfortable with myself. He used to tell me I was pretty too. He was so cute. I looked at some of his pictures on myspace.. he's STILL cute! Awww... I sent him a PM... hopefully he'll respond. We'll see. I'll be very disappointed if he doesn't!