On my way home I made my mental list of things to do when I got in the house.  It was extensive and I decided that before I got all involved with the TO DO LIST I would get my exercise done.  GO ME!

Once the exercising was in the bank I went looking for the file from the Social Security office so I could get to the TO DO LIST part of the morning.

How is it even possible that it’s not on my desk?  That’s where I would have put such a thing.

I looked and looked.  Thinking of all the rooms I had been in since coming home.  Game room, bathroom, kitchen (just a pass thru), dining room (also just a pass thru), and living room, where I set down my purse, crochet bag,  bottle of water, and WHERE ON EARTH IS THAT FILE?  It should be right here with my stuff!

Now it was time to call for backup.

“KIDS!  We’re looking for a manila file folder that says marriage licence and birth certificates on the tab. I had it with me when I walked in.   It’s very important and I HAVE TO HAVE IT.”

Kids were milling around looking at every file folder we have, and lo, there are many.

I went out to the car and opened the passenger side door thinking maybe I left it wedged between the seat and the console and I should be able to see the file better from that side, knowing full well I had that blasted file in my hands when I got in the house.

I kept coming back to my desk where I set my purse and crochet bag.

I went back out to the car and looked in the front seat from the driver’s door.  Yeah, the file still wasn’t there.

All the while thinking of that quote: “Insanity is doing the same exact thing over again and expecting different results.”  Was that Einstein?  I don’t know.  I WAS feeling like I was loosing my mind.  But I couldn’t help it.

• It HAD TO BE HERE.
• It HAD TO BE WITH MY PURSE.

Finally, I forced myself to calm down and think.  Remember my actual steps upon entering the house.  Actually remember doing it.  Walking into the living room and setting my purse down on the desk.

AND THEN IT HAPPENED.

The briefest glimpse of my hands opening the file drawer.

<HUGE GASP>

I had filed it.

Yup, there it was.  Right where I had put it.

I got the forms scanned and emailed and mentally tossed the rest of the TO DO LIST out the window.  Where are my M & Ms?

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I got my glasses on to look at the clock and found that it was only 3:45.  Showering at 3:45 a.m. would definitely qualify as odd.

Why my brain works this way I have no idea, but my thoughts about the shower running at 3:45 a.m. were as follows:

“Someone was taking a shower last evening and died in the shower and that’s why the water is still running.  No one noticed the water because they’re: A) on facebook, or B) sleeping.  Why are kids so oblivious to their surroundings?  I should go count them.”

Once I got into the older boys’ room I turned on the light and they were ALL sleeping like logs.  To get to their room I had to pass the other bathroom and the shower sound wasn’t coming there, so by that time I was reassured that all the kids were alive.  Also, by that time I couldn’t hear the water anymore.

My theory is that the cows had a big drink and the trough was (automatically) refilling and that’s what sounded like a shower running from the back of the house.  I have no idea if cows get up for a drink in the middle of the night, or if maybe they were up early, it being Sunday and all.  Who knows?

Yes, I do suffer from mild anxiety.  And yes, it does make raising a bunch of boys an adventure.  Even when they’re safe and sound in their beds.

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It all started at the dentists office, which is where all good stories start.  I went to the dentist to start the whole process of getting my teeth pulled and getting the dentures blah blah blah.  The dentist sent me to the oral surgeon, who did a mini-physical.  Including taking my blood pressure with a portable, desk-top model of a vitals machine.  Ate you ready to be shocked and amazed?  That little tiny blood pressure machine registered 262/155.  My first thought was, “Wow!  What a crappy blood pressure monitor.  They REALLY need to have that thing calibrated!”  So the doc took it again… Unbefortunately he got a very similar number.  At which time everybody in the room started to become a bit alarmed about just how much longer I’d live.  Including the doc, the nurse, my hubs, and me.  I didn’t have any idea that blood pressure could go that high.  So, off we went to the ER.

Long story short, I’m now on the highest dose of Lisinopril that they make, and I bet my blood pressure is lower than yours!  (Excluding Kim, of course.)

But, we DON’T know how long my blood pressure was that high.  We do know that it was that high for a couple of weeks while the docs figured out just what to give me.  Oh, and I also had to severely restrict my salt intake.  That helped a bunch.

What we DO know is that I had been feeling like death warmed over for a long time.

It’s been a long road back to reasonably good health.  I found out along the way that I don’t have breast cancer, or diabetes or bad kidneys or a toxic liver.  I’m happy for all those good things.

Then with the added complications that my recent surgery and severe illness provided, I’ve been still feeling like something the cat dragged in.  Until very recently.

Now I’m really feeling like a human being again.  I’m trying very hard to give up my afternoon naps.  I don’t need them anymore, but it’s a very ingrained habit now.  And stamina is still rather low, so you see how that would make it even harder to stay outta that easy chair.  But I’m trying.

I promised John that I’d make beans and rice AND cornbread for supper tonight, so that’ll keep me off my duff for a while this afternoon.  Staying busy without spending all my energy is a real challenge, but I’m a big girl.  I oughtta get over this hurdle before long.

Just thought you might wanna know.

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Way back last week, when we still had far too many chickens for one family, said chickens were just tearing up the yard and this particular flower bed.  Chickens are actually very indiscriminate when it comes to landscaping of any kind.  They’ll tear up what ever strikes their fancy.  Or maybe I should say, they think there are bugs to eat EVERYWHERE!  And will scratch for them no matter how much that pretty flower or nice plant cost.  Danged chickens.

We gave a lot of our hens away last week and we’re down to 10 hens and 2 roosters, but that’s ok, I know a boy with an ax, and we’ll soon have only one rooster.  Now that we have an appropriate number of chickens they all live in the chicken yard behind the garage full time.  No more free range.  Well.  It’s a modified free range.

And now that the chickens no longer have access to EVERYTHING we can now plant flowers.  Yay!

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My teeth have caused me pain and suffering for many years.  MANY years.  I still remember the day that the downhill spiral began.  I was flossing my teeth LIKE A GOOD GIRL.  And a filling popped out.  It was 1989.  We had no dental insurance, and no money.  So I did nothing.  For a long time.  Just kept trying to keep my teeth as clean as possible.

Every so often I had to pay a dentist to have one extracted.  But never could afford to get any real preventative work done in there.  No dental insurance and no money.

Finally the whole thing got so bad that I KNEW I’d never recover my own teeth, that I had to wait to be able to afford dentures.  Let me tell you folks.  Dentures are not cheap.  And the extractions are a huge expense too.

Eventually I’ll have time to do the research and explain to you, here on the blog, just what all I’m having done.  The short story is, the military system is doing about half (money-wise) of the job, and it’s no charge to me. We love them. They did the extractions and will do the implants.  The prosthodontist, I call him my dentist for short, is the one who made my temporary dentures and who will eventually, in about 6 – 8 months, make my permanent dentures.  Other things will be happening during those 6 – 8 months, but those are the things I’ll tell you about later, someday.

So, there you are, in a nutshell, what’s going on and how I can afford it now.  Still gonna cost more than we paid for all three of our cars. Like 4 or 5 times what we paid for them, but then, we got good deals on all our used cars, but I digress.

Back to the original reason I’m posting today…

I got my temporary dentures yesterday.  I was so excited all day long.  Then I got to the dentist’s office and things changed a bit.

You remember those wax teeth that you used to get when you went Trick or Treating on Halloween?  Awful things.  Why did we put that mystery wax in our mouths?  Anyway, imagine those, only made out of HARD, UNYIELDING, plastic.  And they don’t really fit, you know, one size does not fit all.  Even though we started out with impressions of my mouth, it’s actually more of an art, the getting of the dentures to fit a person’s mouth just right.

So I sat there in that dentist chair for 2 1/2 hours while he applied more liners and drilled parts of the denture away to fit my own personal mouth.  It was a long and slightly uncomfortable process.  And if you’ve never had dentures before there is just no way to know that they feel so bulky in your mouth.  I felt like I had a cast on my jaw, from the inside.

And talking?  I don’t really know how mister dentist could actually understand anything that came out of my mouth.  And here I was, having just finally mastered talking WITHOUT teeth without sounding like a world class redneck.  So much learning.

Mister dentist’s instructions were to only take the denture out, yes, singular, I only got the uppers because I still have seven of my central lowers, anyway, only take the denture out for cleaning twice daily.  The rest of the time I am supposed to keep them in, night and day, day and night, for 2 – 3 weeks, amen.  And that is how we get accustomed to eating, drinking, talking, smiling and etc. with dentures in the old mouth.  And that was going along fine, until supper.

Andrew, while I was in town sitting in the dentist chair for ever, made a magnificent meatloaf supper.  Meatloaf is one of my favorites.  So we sat down to a beautiful meal and I put a bite of meatloaf in my mouth and had NO IDEA HOW TO PROCEED!  The most awkward thing I’ve done in a long time.  And I recently took a shower with my right arm taped in a plastic bag because of an I.V.!   So I know weird.  My first response was to push the food behind the denture.  I have no idea why that seemed right.  It clearly is not.  I could have choked to death on meatloaf and dentures!  So, out they came and I am immensely grateful that it was a soft meal.

The talking was just a matter of doing it.  Nevermind how nutso I sound.  I can get all accustomed to it just talking to the kids.  I have lots of opportunities during the regular course of the the day to practice.  That’s coming along really quickly.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful.  And I had no trouble getting to sleep and staying that way.  That really surprised me.  I thought it would be a giant impediment to sleep.  Maybe it was because I was so very tired from staying excited all day yesterday.

Sadly, when I took the denture out this morning to clean up I discovered a huge sore spot, so awful that I can’t even bring myself to put it back in.  Now I have to wait until tomorrow morning, toothless all the while, until mister dentist can fix me up with some adjustment.  Ugh.  It’s such a process.

Now, I think I sound like a whiney, complaining, ungrateful baby.  And I totally don’t mean too.  I LOVE MY NEW TEETH!  I can barely contain my excitement over having them.  And they look GREAT!  I think they look natural as can be.  Once I get past the concept of SO MANY TEETH IN MY MOUTH!  Different.  Weird.  WONDERFUL!!!

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• intentional loss of 15 of my teeth,
• unintentional, and temporary, loss of  good health,
• impressive and repeated loss of consciousness,
• idiotic, albeit drug induced, loss of inhibitions,
• my exuberant recovery of all of the above!

I went into BAMC on Thursday for oral surgery to remove 15 of my teeth, under anesthesia (the only way to fly!), in preparation for getting dentures.  I was unexpectedly admitted to the hospital after serving my time in recovery, due to my sleep apnea.  They just wanted to keep an eye on me for a while.  Later that same day the surgeon came by and decided I looked with-it enough to go home.  Hallelujah!  I love HOME!

I don’t know if you know this or not, so aren’t you glad I’m here to tell you?  Getting teeth pulled makes your mouth hurt.  ReallyREALLYreally bad!  So I took the percocet and didn’t care anymore about anything.  If we are friends on fb then you’ve read some of the silly things that come to mind while I’ve got my percocet on board.  Also, my husband can attest to being woken up in the middle of a perfectly peaceful, good, sound sleep so that I can make sure he knows how much “I love you, man.”

Eating hurts, so I didn’t do a lot of it Friday and Saturday.  Drinking – ditto.  Bad idea.  Ya gotta drink after having surgery, cuz remember the day of the surgery they didn’t LET me drink anything for over half of that day?!?! People! I’ve read The Hunger Games – TWICE!  I should have had that whole dehydration thing fresh in my mind.  But no, apparently I’m still ten feet tall and bullet proof and don’t have to follow the same rules as all you mere mortals.

So, on Saturday, when I started fainting…

Let’s just stop right there for a while and talk about fainting.  In the movies it looks cute and fluffy and perfectly peaceful, right?  Ahem. This is not the case when you are sick.  When you are sick and you faint, well, when I am sick and I faint, it’s neither pretty nor comfortable, well, except the part WHILE I’m passed out, that was kinda dreamy, but all the parts leading up to and directly following the fainting are markedly unpleasant.

Anyway, after the third episode I asked John to call 911 and get me an ambulance.  Not something you do on a whim, particularly when there are 6 children looking on and trying to comprehend what is happening to their Dear Mama.

Off to the ER we went.  The ride was not totally awful.  Although, it looked like none of the kids recovered from it until I was home again, safe and sound where they can watch me like a hawk, but I digress… it’s what I do.

Once there I underwent many, many tests and the doctors discovered that I had a raging infection somewhere in my body, so they admitted me in order to perform more tests and to keep an eye on me.

A CAT scan, an ultra sound (turns out I’m not pregnant){hardeeharhar}, a few EKGs and many, many blood tests later it was decided that the infection, while still a mystery as to it’s source, was gone and I could go HOME.  That was Monday.

Tuesday I had a follow-up appointment in oral surgery.  All is well, I’m healing nicely.

Today is Thursday and I feel pretty good.  My mouth hurts.  It hurts to eat, but no longer hurts to drink.  Praise God!  The stitches in my mouth are dissolving as they should be but it’s a creepy sensation that makes me think it’s going to gag me while I sleep.

My temporary dentures will be ready in a week and a half or so.  Meanwhile, hillbilly jokes run rampant, but I’m a good sport and enjoy a good laugh!

I covet the prayers of the saints for my continued recovery, and I’m happy to answer any questions, that’s code for LEAVE ME A COMMENT, MATE!

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• 2 t. butter, softened
• 7-oz. can whole green chiles, drained and cut in strips
• 8-oz. pkg. shredded Cheddar cheese
• 8-oz. pkg. shredded Monterey Jack cheese
• 14-1/2 oz. can stewed tomatoes
• 4 eggs, beaten
• 2 T. all-purpose flour
• 3/4 c. evaporated milk

Spread butter in a slow cooker. Layer chiles and cheeses; add tomatoes. Stir together eggs, flour and milk; pour into slow cooker.  Cover and cook on high setting for 2 to 3 hours. Serves 6.

Chili Rellenos are my FAVORITE!  I’m almost sad that the crockpot is already cooking tonight’s supper.  Ah well, tomorrow is another day.  I’m certainly gonna double this and use my 7qt Crockpot, but I guess I could also use a single recipe in the 4 qt Crockpot for lunches.  Look-out, world!  Chili Rellenos is my new “go-to” recipe!  I’ll probably even add extra eggs to this since I have so many laying hens right now.

Just making sure you’re paying attention.  ;^)

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This boy is my animal wrangler.  He’s an extreme dog lover, but he takes an interest in the chickens as well.  OK, he takes a massive interest in all animals.

You’d be shocked to find out how little interaction I have with the chickens.  And the chickens would be shocked (do they care? not enough brain) to know that I’m the one in charge of how much and what they eat, but I digress.  It’s not about me.

It’s not about me because the chickens are afraid of me.  I’m not evil to them, I’m just somewhat of a stranger to them.  I’m not out there everyday putting food out for them or filling the drinkers, ergo – stranger.

This boy is trusted by the chickens.  He can walk right up to most of them and pick them up.  Good thing, because today he had to pick up our second-in-command rooster.

• #1 Rooster is named Birdy Wooster.
• #2 Rooster is named Jeeves.

Well, Jeeves found a bit of stout string and wrapped it tightly around his toes.

Let’s stop a moment and visualize Jeeves actually trying, on purpose, to tangle his toes up with string.

Jacob caught Jeeves and laid him on the patio table, held him down with his left forearm, while cutting away at the string with his box cutter.  Caleb came in to ask advice on Jake’s request, so I took Jake a pair of scissors, staying well out of Jeeves’ line of sight.

Remember, Jeeves thinks I’m an evil stranger, so I didn’t want to rile him up.

Jacob got all the string removed and asked for some hydrogen peroxide.  I had him move off the porch to pour the peroxide over the foot.  Jeeves thought he ought to squawk, flap, and run off as soon as Jake applied the peroxide, so there was an easy answer to the question “Do ya think we oughtta try to put some antibiotic ointment on that?”

Jeeves now walks with a bit of a limp.  We’ll let you know if he dies or if his leg falls off, but for now, odds are, he’ll be fine.  I’m certain he’s already forgotten about being handled today.  Small brains, chickens.

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Anyway, we got a few good laughs along the way too.

Wait, that’s not the point.

The point is, the dude on the silly video on fb DARED me to turn off the idiot box and read Shakespeare.  Yea, not only to read the bard’s works, but to read them aloud to my children.  (That’s what I heard, but there may have been a boat-load of guilty driving my interpretation thereof.)

Hold on, lemme think, wasn’t I gonna do that anyway?  Isn’t that why I bought my copy of Tales from Shakespeare nearly 20 years ago?  Wasn’t that part of the plan of yore.  I used to do this.  Seriously.  

But now?  We read a chapter of Farmer Boy (nuthin’ wrong with Little House on the Prairie, just happens to be what we are doing right now) and then we pop in a DVD.  Again, nuthin’ wrong with watching an occasional DVD, especially if it’s a well made, classic tale.

Right.

Explosions, hostage negotiations, Marvel comic heroes, futuristic robot take-overs.  That’s what usually plays around here.

*Extreme homeschool guilt happening in my head right now.*

So, to counteract the painful, nauseating guilt I got out my copy of Tales from Shakespeare and read the first chapter to Caleb and Rachel.

Painful.

I could cry.

Seriously.

It hurt my head to read the hard stuff.  And I had to explain so much, so many phrases.  (Glad I still could, bein’ as my mind is mush.)  Troopers that they are, the kids patiently listened and tried to keep track of who was the brother, who was the king, and what the good guy’s name was.  Then, when it was ended, they voluntarily went to clean their rooms.

Seriously.

Totally.

Shut up.

(That last was aimed at the inside of my vacuous vacuum I call my brain.)

So, because I know you’d like to share in my guilt and misery, here’s the video that snapped me back to my senses.

Shakespeare – HA

By the way, you can get Tales from Shakespeare for free for your Kindle (or Kindle for PC) here and lots of regular Shakespeare for the Kindle (most of it free) here.  Regular Shakespeare, <snort>, I mean sonnets and plays and so forth.

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Sometimes she’d lift the tea-pot lid,
To peep at what was in it,
Or tilt the kettle, if you did
But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch,
Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandmamma went out one day,
And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuff-box gay
Too near the little maid;
“Ah! well,” thought she, “I’ll try them on,
As soon as grandmamma is gone. ”

Forthwith she placed upon her nose
The glasses large and wide;
And looking round, as I suppose,
The snuff-box too she spied:
“Oh! what a pretty box is that;
I’ll open it,” said little Matt.

“I know that grandmamma would say,
‘Don’t meddle with it, dear;’
But then, she’s far enough away,
And no one else is near:
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this? ”

So thumb and finger went to work 
To move the stubborn lid,
And presently a mighty jerk
The mighty mischief did;
For all at once, ah! woeful case,
The snuff came puffing in her face.

Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth, beside
A dismal sight presented;
In vain, as bitterly she cried,
Her folly she repented.
In vain she ran about for ease;
She could do nothing now but sneeze.

She dash’d the spectacles away,
To wipe her tingling eyes,
And as in twenty bits they lay,
Her grandmamma she spies.
“Heyday! and what’s the matter now?”
Says grandmamma, with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain,
And tingling still, and sore,
Made many a promise to refrain
From meddling evermore.
And ’tis a fact, as I have heard,
She ever since has kept her word.

Ann Taylor

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