I love my Dentist

Seriously.

She pulled out my last wisdom tooth on Friday. I was terrified. Utterly. More afraid of that than the triathlon, than childbirth, and this new job. The only thing scarier than that was when my friends took me skiing down Hog Back (Bear Valley) the first time. I knew I was going to die on that slope whereas I was pretty sure I'd be only "near death" with the tooth. I envisioned blood, pain, swollen and pained face, blood, pain, dry socket... um.. lots of pain and lots of desire for pain killers. I cancelled all plans to take over the world last weekend.

But it turned out okay. Some ache that goes away with advil, a soft diet for a week and no working out. I love my dentist. She even called me last night at home to make sure I was okay AND gave me permission to have real food again AND said I could work out.

Yay! Lurve the dentist. She's on the border of Clayton and Concord if anyone needs one.

Corbie Cave Adventures

Yay, Corbie Cave!.. (I need theme music.. Brickhouse?) (1)

We have a few rules in the Corbie Cave to ensure the peaceful mood of creativity.

1. No whining. Ever. You must leave if you whine. That goes for complaining and for telling mommy that her "big butt is blocking (your) view of the TV". All mockery of mommy gets you kicked out of the Corbie Cave. No harshing mommy's sewing buzz.

2. It's mommy's TV/DVD. If a cartoon gets played, it's because mommy is generous. But if mommy is watching something sappy and you complain, then you get to leave (see rule 1). Mommy will refrain from her favorite space and action flicks if the audience is too young, but all bets are off for Ann of Avonlea, etc.

3. You must fold up your kid-sized lawn chair each time you leave and put it away.

4. No toys may live in the Corbie Cave unless they are mommy's, in which case they are not toys, they are inspirational tools put in place by the muse.

5. Mommy just might dance while she's sewing. There will be no pointing or laughing. (See rule one.)

6. If there is more than one guest and the guests start to bicker, the guests will be sent to bed to be with their father. Period. No bickering or harshing mommy's sewing buzz in the Corbie Cave.

7. No food. Do that outside, it's 2 steps behind you and right through the door.

I need to post these somewhere. Too bad the people who need the most reinforcement aren't big enough to read all of it. 

(1) My palatial shed in the back yard where my sewing muse and I concoct mad plans to take over the world one seam at a time. Well, not really palatial, but when I'm alone and the mountainous stack of projects is not half-blocking the door, it feels palatial. I even have a secret stash of lime-flavored diet coke... muh-ha-ha

Projects

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