O frabjous day!

I am morbidly afraid of dentists, mostly because, every time I visit one, they do painful and invasive procedures inside my head.  And also, I was molested by a dentist when I was 9 years old.  Many times.  Why, you may ask?  I didn't have the kind of mother one could go to with a problem like this.  I thought she would blame me, since I was the one who made her mad so that she had to beat me with a hardwood yardstick across my bare behind.  And I would rather endure the indignity of an asshole dentist than beard my mother in her den of rage.  So, I always put off going until I cannot bear the pain any longer.  This process of reconstructing my much neglected teeth began last year, and I found a dentist who is gentle and not condescending or shaming and we are together saving what we can.  Surprising to note that I will die with most of my teeth after all.  Yay.  A couple of days ago, a tooth on the other side from the current excavation work began to ache.  Crap.  But, knowing that if I try to muscle through it might very well get infected like its sister before it, and not only be horrible to correct, it would be horribly expensive, too.  I quickquick made an appointment.  And SURPRISE!!! It is not the teeth that are aching at all.  I told the dentist that it ached all the way up to my eyeball, and he said that is good news.  He tapped on the two possibilities.  No pain.  So what I thought was a toothache was really sinus pain.  A trip to Safeway for some Benadryl proved his theory.  Take two, no pain.  Breathing better, too.  Nevertheless, I am committed to getting one of those crowned babies recrowned, as the margin is no longer flush, and there is a pocket between the teeth you could put your fist through, an open invitation to nastiness happening.  That is a good deal.  Only $1,300, instead of the $7,000 I spent on the bottom babies for root canals, crowns, and extraction and a bridge.  Just another rudeness about aging.  However, teeth are a wonderful thing.  Yes, I love my teeth.  Just want them to love me back and not ACHE!

Awkward.

Once in a while, the Universe gives me little giggle moments.  Like the time I got to date my high school sweetheart as an adult, between our respective marriages, and found that he was a horse's rear end.  Whew.  Big bullet dodged there.  And the time my husband's new wife came over to talk to me about their marriage, told me all about their rather sterile sex life and the squabbles about the kids.  Validation, you can't beat it with a stick.  And, since I was sober at the time, I didn't give her any info about our sex life, which was obviously much more passionate and satisfying.  I smiled for a week after that little interlude.  So, this weekend, my ex wildman artist showed up at our home group AA meeting with his new squeeze in tow.  I had heard through the grapevine that she was movie star beautiful and a talented musician to boot.  Well, I don't know where that person got his information, perhaps from the one photo on Facebook that was taken at a decent distance, and the others I had seen showed a kind of frayed little person sitting at her white baby grand, creased decollete, frizzy hair, etc.  Face to face, she was a pruney, rather terrified person.  Well, we alcoholics are pretty gregarious and fearless, several women pounced on her to welcome her, she was probably pretty dazed and confused before I was introduced to her.  I shook her limp-fish hand, said how nice to meet her, and was promptly distracted by a friend, which I decided later made me seem kind of rude, so, after watching her squirm in her seat next to her guy, I apologized as I was leaving, shook that rubbery hand again, and exited quickly as we were giving a friend a surprise luncheon after the meeting.  I got to see how not-well I am as I kind of gloated about the fact that I am looking so much more youthful and fit than she was, though I am sure I am the older one.  And that only happened because I had troubled skin into my fifties, doctored for it regularly, religiously used moisturizer and sunscreen, and have a genetic predisposition to look younger than I actually am.  All very fortuitous to be sure.  We are bound to be thrown together soon at an annual art auction, very chichi, so I am glad the ice has been broken, and perhaps I will get to  know her and find that my first impression was entirely wrong.  And don't you know, if it wasn't, I will not be all that unhappy, either.  If he couldn't see fit to pine away forever, next best thing is a wimpy, wrinkled girlfriend.  Oh, that must be my evil twin talking, again.

The country mouse goes to town...

I like being in my own element - my suburban city where denim rules, my little yellow house in the neighborhood that is surrounded by the city but not of it, so that my neighbors have chickens and goats, and a goddamned rooster that starts his thready little crowing around 3 AM every day.  And today, off I went to that lalaland to the south known as Marin County.  Now, it is not really more urban - the cities down there are smaller than mine, but, somehow, it is just more trendy, more au courant, more MORE.  The occasions was my daughter's sister-in-law's baby shower.  They have registries now for baby showers.  All the things on this darling girl's registry were 1. expensive 2. impractical 3. designed to within an inch of their lives.  Really, $30 for little pants (black and white, for a GIRL), that she will grow out of by the second wearing.  Not doing that.  So I chose my own gift.  Like, don't tell ME what to do.  I got her the manual, a book on What to Expect in the First Year.  And some little undershirts with long sleeves and mitties, that she can wear home from the hospital and not scratch her face.  And four of the most adorable glove puppets, a litter of little dogs, that I encased in pink tissue like little roses peeking out of the box.  She loved them.  And I did a painting just to reproduce it on the card, a pelican and her chick.  Not expensive.  Not chic.  But fun and funny.  Things have changed.  When I had my babies, I bought a second hand crib and painted it.  Or I borrowed a crib from an in-law.  Our strollers were rickety little things that folded up to the size of an umbrella.  I bought my little girl PINK clothes.  Well, things have changed, for sure.  And did I mention that this festive occasion was held in the magnificent garden of this amazing house in Tiburon that overlooks the whole of San Francisco and Sausalito?  I could see both bridges and lots of tiny sailboats.  Beautiful.  Way over the head of this country mouse.  I was happy to come home to the fur people and my tiny abode.  Think I'll get myself some flowers tomorrow.  Elegance on a budget, from Trader Joe's.

It's not me, it's you...

I used to firmly believe that, if it weren't for other people, I would be just fine.  Parents, husbands, friends, bosses - they all existed for the singular reason of putting me down, making me less-than, hurting me.  Okay, kind of self-centered.  Yeah.  Therapy helped me see the wounds, and lordy, if I was anything, it was wounded.  Then came recovery, and the focus became MY PART.  Not sure I liked that part of the Program.  Who was I if not a victim of the very universe I inhabited?  And that became the most empowering place to stand in my consciousness, knowing that  if I look down and see that I am standing in a pile of shit, it didn't crawl up there by itself.  I stepped in it.  Again.  The empowering part is, that if I have a part in the problem, I have a part in the solution, too.  I can sweep up my side of the street, and decide if I want further engagement at that address or not.  I can talk my alternatives over with others.  And I can take steps, either to leave or begin again at a new level of understanding.  Unfortunately, there are some folks that I don't feel I can walk away from.  Like my family - my remaining parent, my siblings, my children.  There, I use all my practices - acceptance, kindness, restraint of tongue and pen, compassion, detachment.  That last one is a must for me.  I cannot fix anyone else, though, God knows, I would if I could.  Hell, I couldn't even fix myself.  I had to rely on my community of fellow AAs and a loving Higher Power to just get sober.  So, Higher Power and I are praying for those other folks out there, the one I am not in charge of, any more.  Huge relief.

Mercury in retrogade. Help!!!

I am a Gemini, ruled by that infinitesimal ribbon world that bakes in its inner orbit and flits by every so often to wreak havoc in my otherwise pedantic life.  It gets worse.  I am also a DOUBLE Gemini, since that is also my rising sign.  So, I am doubly screwed.  Now, I live alone.  But, seeing as I am a Gemini, I am never lonely, since my Gemini twin lives beside me.  She is not evil, my twin.  Rather, she is indecisive and pessimistic.  She is the one that laughs heartily whenever I being a new painting.  "You'll never be able to do that!", she exclaims.  And as I persist, she pouts.  Most of the time I prove her wrong.  Most of the time I get something I can deem worthy, even if it is not my original idea.  And did I mention that my twin is critical?  Oh, it is like living with my mother AND my ex-husband at the same time.  Luckily, I am much bigger than she, and louder, too.  And, luckily, I have some recovery and can soothe that part of me.  She is really only two years old, my twin.  I can keep her happy with a buttered ear of corn or a nice Dvorak symphony.  She will settle right down.  But, if she is unhappy, watch out.  She was uber-unhappy last week, when pretty much every plan we had didn't happen.  And our cell phone locked itself up and Samsung said we were going to have to call Virgin Mobile, which is like hanging yourself, an inch of rope at a time.  (Luckily, when we took the battery out to find the registration number, it unlocked when we put it back in.)  Then the garbage company to which we pay an exorbitant amount  just plain ignored our yard waste bin, necessitating another phone call, mostly spent on hold.  Hassle hassle!  And the program that has been sending me annoying pop-up reminders for six months, that I finally agreed to renew, refused to load.  And when it did load (after turning off the computer and turning it back on again, a guaranteed remedy), it cleaned out all my history in my game file and I had to play for HOURS before I got my Hoyle bucks to buy back my mahjong tile sets and fancy cards.  Both my entities were pretty flummoxed here.  So, being extra careful out there.  One does not mess around with Mercury.