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.