Brace Yourself

My dentist wants me to consider braces. She is troubled by my overbite. I am sure her concern is coming from a kind place. She isn’t the first dentist to make this suggestion. I have heard it over and over through the years.

When I was a child we didn’t have insurance because my dad often didn’t work. As a result I didn’t go to the dentist or doctor much. There wasn’t really a need too go. I was a pretty healthy kid and I rarely had issues with my teeth. After I had grown, moved, and secured dental insurance I started going and continued to go every six month like clock work.

My teeth are not straight, they are naturally discolored, and I have an overbite. All that considered my teeth are really healthy. The numbers they call out during a cleaning are 2’s and 3’s – which is good.

So here I am, age 47 and nearly a grandmother for the first time, and my dentist wants me to consider braces to fix my bite. Ummm, I am 12 pounds overweight – so apparently I have learned to adapt for that bite.

I have been tempted to do this – I mean who DOESN’T want a perfect smile? But, I would need extensive braces that would cost thousands and be cemented to my teeth for years. The pain would be unbearable. Plus, if I am going to consider anything cosmetic – it is going to be filling in the lines around my eyes. The windows to this soul may be in need of a remodeling real soon.

Assignment: Smile!

Hello my name is Nancy and I have an addiction.

My love for television might be considered an addiction. I watch a lot of it. For years whenever I ran across someone who proudly stated they didn’t own a television or that they limited their viewing time I would feel a little guilty. When meeting someone for the first time I would dance around the subject. I would casually bring up a television show to determine if I was speaking with another T.V. junkie or not.

Hiding an addition is such hard work.

The day I decided to stop hiding was so freeing for me. I was speaking with a young person I worked with at the time. We were both doing the T.V. dance: mention a show, wait for a reaction, state we rarely watch T.V but . . ., and then mention another show. The more shows we listed – the more we realized we were not alone. Others in the department came out of hiding and started sharing their favorite shows; from comedy, drama, to guilty pleasure.

Television was our bonding moment.

Here is my latest schedule:

• Sunday: Amazing Race: I like to pretend that Tom and I are competing on this show.
•Monday: How I Met Your Mother: Great Cast!
•Tuesday: Oh my goodness! This has gone from the worst night on television to the best . . . . American Idol: Guilty Pleasure, Lost: Epic, and Parenthood: Potential.
•Wednesday:Modern Family: Clever and Funny, and Cougar Town: It Won Me Over with Charm.
•Thursday:The Office: Brand Loyalty Only at this Point, and 30 Rock: overall more hits than misses.
•Friday:The Soup: Who Needs Reality T.V. – Just Watch This!
•Saturday: Please, I am not a freak – even I need a day of rest!


Assignment: I am not hiding any longer…..television is great. Hey – don’t judge me!

Patience

Jesus shared a parable about a fig tree that would not bear fruit any longer (Mark 13:1-9). The owner of the tree wanted it cut down but the servant asked if they could wait just one more year. The servant had faith that the tree could be redeemed.

This parable has a deeper message than I will be sharing in this blog entry but I was recently reminded of it through my Amaryllis.

I planted this bulb on Thanksgiving morning. For many months it was just a pot of mud. I kept watering the mud until one day a sprig of green appeared. I kept watering until one day a stem appeared. I kept watering until one day a bloom appeared.

When the ground is a mix of snow, mud, and brown grass – this flower knew when it needed to bloom.

Assignment: Patience

A Rose By Any Name - Still Awesome!

It has been a stressful few weeks at work with increased crazy happening yesterday. So, when I walked in to the house --- Tom handed me these beautiful roses.



Assignment: Whooaa-Whooo!

Sun in West Michigan

This week has been full of sunshine but I have not allowed myself to enjoy it. February was one of the grayest months on record. I believe the report stated West Michigan had four days with sun. Four Days!!!! That is depressing.

After such a month, you would think that I would be walking on sunshine but I am cautiously happy. It is like when you have a favorite perfume that you never use because you want to keep it forever. You know you love it –but if you actually enjoy it, it will eventually run out.

When did I turn into a cynic?

Oh, and just for the record, I hate that “Walking on Sunshine” song too. It is so “up with people” and once the tune is in your head it never leaves. See, I am right – you are humming it now. Sorry.

Assignment: Soak up the Sun!

A Funk

I am in a funk. I started yesterday by losing one of my diamond earrings. The back came unclasped and it fell out. The good news – I know it is in my house so that will help the search party.

Then last evening I had a hair appointment. I just said, “Do whatever you want” because I am in a funk and hair is a fast and easy fix to get yourself outta a funk. I was excited while the color processed. I closed my eyes while the cut began. My imagination was running wild. Would I have short blond spiked hair? Would it be a mid-length shag in red?

Nope.




A bob. It isn’t a bad cut and it isn’t my stylist’s fault – I just find it boring. It is a shorter version of what I already had AND a cut that I have had many times in the past.

Here’s my problem; no matter what the cut, the hair is still on the top of my head. I have straight hair and an unnatural inability to style my hair. But my true desire is to have textured hair that I can wear in a wash, toss, and wear way. I would love thick, wonderful wavy layers that I can wear in casual (planned) dishevelment or sleek glamorous style.

But this is the hair I have been dealt so whatcha going to do? I guess there are worse things and I did find my earring so maybe things are starting to turn.

Assignment: Let’s start a movement to make wigs socially acceptable for all women!

43 is just too young

The forty’s decade feels old. I have written it time and time again. Our bones ache when we wake up, our hair either changes color or falls out completely, and our faces start to take on the appearance of our parents. Yes, our forty’s seem old until we hear of a death.

Yesterday Tom and I attended a funeral for our niece’s husband. He was 43 years old. He was an active fisherman, a sports enthusiast, a loving father and husband. He was too young to die and Stephanie is too young to be a widow. Their boys are too young to spend the rest of their lives without their father.

A week ago he was given nine-twelve months – he died within a week. I hate cancer.

Assignment: Prayers for Stephanie and the boys because 43 is just too young.