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Well, caught isn’t quite the right term. I took it off the curtain rods, attached wooden dowels top and bottom, and had it all ready to put in my office. There is a lone hook on the big blank wall my desk faces. I put a dried rose there from a bouquet DD Susan sent me years ago just so it wouldn’t be totally blank.

The rose is 12-14″ long. The wall is 9.5’x20′ so it is rather swallowed up by the wall. When I moved into this new space at the end of February (yes, 8 months ago) I planned on putting this batik print on that wall. I finally bought the dowels last July. I took it down off the window (the light filtering through the batik-ed print is lovely!) and gently cleaned the dust off it and carefully peeled it off the curtain rods.

Last weekend I used fine, clear nylon filament thread to tack the dowels on. It was ready to go to work. I can say I have eaten this frog only when it is actually hanging at work.

I should put it in the car, just to be ready, right? Yeah me, I was even organized! I took it to work, managed to hang it on the wall…

And I hated how it looked. Better than nothing but… not quite the vision I was after after all.

I bought a plain, cheap inexpensive poster frame for it after SnB yesterday. I left it in the car and went into work this morning, forgetting the poster frame was there in the trunk.

Bleary-eyed from working on 11+ email campaign reports and desperate for any excuse to leave my desk… frame to the rescue! Out I trot to the trunk of my car, collect said frame, and return to my desk. (You’re probably thinking I forgot to bring my office keys with me when I went out to my car, but I know me. I keep my office keys on my car key ring.)

Actually, it did take a fair bit for me to disassemble the frame and reassemble it without smudging the plastic, and keeping it semi-evenly in the frame, and clipping the borders back together all lined up. Then the back crimp hanger thingy for the wall hook was so tightly pressed into the backboard, I almost despaired of ever getting it actually hung. But I am more stubborn than a mere inanimate item (and most animate ones too, but I digress…).

I guesstimated it was over a half hour start to finish. The actual time according to a clock? About 9 and a half minutes. The aggravation factor always makes time stretch out MUCH longer!

batik-flower

I think it looks *much* better now…the wall AND the print.
And another frog bites the dust…

p.s. The analogy of ‘eating a frog first thing’ is catchy, but it really isn’t a motivator for me due to the whole eating part. Catching frogs is gross enough for sissy me!

The Tooth Fairy is alive and well and more prevalent than ever. Just ask Google. There are poems, screen savers, coloring pages, stories, movies, costumes, games, mazes, books, charts, graphs, and online dental experiments. You can download Tooth certificates, ring tones, and Tooth Fairy crafts. There are patterns for ‘heirloom quality’ Tooth Fairy Pillows. (I saw a photo and the concept of ‘heirloom’ has seriously gone downhill IMHO). You can order a canvas ‘Tooth Fairy [heart] Me’ tote bag for a mere $19.99 plus S&H.

Most of these items (excluding the last item and some of the kinkier costumes) are for those aged 9 and under. So where do I go? At today’s inflation rate, she owes me BIG BUCKS.

I come by my dental issues the old fashioned way. I inherited them. My father lost all his teeth by his early 20’s. Both sets of grandparents had full dentures. My mother gave hers up to bone loss while still in her mid-forties.

My early experiences with dentists came with pain from cavities, lack of flossing (I thought it was gross and decided they didn’t “really” mean it), and no dental coverage until my mid-thirties. Until I forced myself to follow through with regular bi-annual cleaning visits to the torture den dental hygienist (and that was only because the coverage would only be covered if I did so) well…let’s just say it took a long time to come to terms with most of my dental phobias. Eventually I did not need sweet air to endure the cleanings.
dentalwork
There were the obvious consequences. I now suffer from chronic periodontal disease, the dreaded ‘gingivitis’ which requires deep scaling and cleaning at the surgical level; and quarterly cleanings instead of biannual ones.

They told me that I would also lose all my teeth at some point. It was only a matter of time.

Between jobs in my mid-forties, I put some dental work off longer than I should have and in one fell swoop lost four teeth. Tears rolled down my cheeks as they extracted the abscessed, diseased teeth. The psychological pain was far worse than the physical (which took a LOT of Novocain). I felt old, ugly, undesirable, unfeminine… absolutely horrid inside and out.

I was fitted for a partial denture and eventually adjusted to the change in the taste and texture of food, the alteration in the sound of my voice, the change in speech and singing clarity.

Dealing with the vanity aspect took a bit of time. It still gives me an occasional sucker punch. It could be worse, I tell myself.

I continued to lose teeth here and there, adding the missing teeth to my partial until it got to the point where I was told that if I lost any more, I would have to remove the remaining few and get a full denture.

Or…

Or I could look into dental implants, none of which is covered by insurance. Dental implants require a winning lottery ticket, a MUCH better household income, generous inheritance (ha! none of my relatives qualify on the wealth scale, and thank you, I prefer them alive) or a seriously large donation from the Tooth Fairy.

I put it off as long as I could, but it became apparent this spring that the last remaining upper teeth were losing their grip. I bit the bullet, took out a loan and had the beginning work done today. I spent almost four hours in the dental chair as they cut and drilled into my bone. Regular and frequent Novocain injections made the surgery possible. It also kept me whacked out and sleeping most of the afternoon and early evening.

I now have four more craters holes in my upper palette that will, once healed, be fitted with crowns over the implanted manholes. A combination of bridges and crowns will replace my partial denture and I will feel ‘normal’ again. Impoverished, but ‘normal.’

I go back to work on Monday when the swelling will be at its height, but the discomfort level should be well within copeable levels.

Sigh.

Vanity is frickin’ expensive.

Does this count as a frog?

Sometimes, the frog isn’t a single, procrastinated thing. Sometimes it is just showing up when you would SO rather… uh… not. Sometimes it is a long, drawn-out thing that you just have to keep plugging away at when all you really want to do is run away (anywhere!) screaming. Or sleep. Yeah, sleep would be good.

That was me showing up late to work today (migraine be damned! and take major meds) for a meeting I felt was important enough to be there for. But… the one who set the meeting called in sick. Once I was there, I stayed and plowed through some of the pieces of the mountain, trying to dig out of the mine I am buried in. (Was it only a week ago I still thought it possible to come back from the time deficit?)

This work project is not a frog, it’s a frickin’ elephant that we pretend can be tamed, channeled, put back on a timetable, and delivered on time.

Talk about denial! Usually denial is my happy place, but not this time. This is a moving, morphing headache place. A time sink.

On the positive side, I am not having major anxiety attacks, just stress concerns that I can set aside for most of my time out of the office. Yes, I have begun to work at home again. I tried really hard not, but the choice was to stay in the office till “oh-dark-thirty”, or bring it home. I am bringing it home. Otherwise I’d never get around to doing laundry!

This is a frog I get to eat over and over and over and over…..and…

I remember that a lot of life is just the showing up for it. There’s the Good (new granddaughter), the Bad (impossible workload) and the Ugly (crappy weather). And music and knitting and puppies and hubby and awesome grown children and STUFF!

Thanks. I feel better now.

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