Crown Me

I went to the dentist today for a tiny little filling (that's what the receptionist said), but I knew I was in trouble when the doctor greeted me in the hallway and put his arm around me...never a good sign, unless maybe he's your dad or husband or brother or something.  So he got me all comfy in the chair and then showed me a picture of my sad little tooth with two big old cracks in it and a cavity under the filling causing it to crumble....yep, no such thing as a tiny little filling for me. 

So I said "CROWN ME!".  Well maybe not exactly like that.  I actually said, "I'd rather have blood drawn" and if you know me, you know that's saying a lot. So my kind dentist said "I can do that"...yeah...just what I wanted to hear.  So to make a long story short, they prepped my tooth for a crown and now I have a temporary in place.  I think I'll have the permanent one made with a skull and crossbones in honor of "talk like a pirate day"...won't that be purty?

Sitting in the chair with my mouth full of metal and plastic and stranger's hands, left me time to contemplate on the experience.  First there is ALL that equipment!  I have learned to keep my eyes closed.  The next thing I noticed is that when they are drilling there is occasionally a burning smell like the electric bug zapper my mom and dad had outside my bedroom window while I was growing up...you know what burning bugs smell like?  Then you get the smell of burning plastic, like when a lid falls down on the heating element in the dishwasher.  Then the dentist took this loopy gauge thingy and made me bite down on it so he could try to pull my teeth out, I mean so he could gauge something...I don't really know what he does with that thing, but it always makes me feel like the dog in a game of tug of war. 

Then there's the lingo...I asked the doc which tooth it was, funny guy said "29"....oh yeah, sure, I know good old 29...never given me a day's trouble before!  Lingual, mesial (forgive my spelling, it's a foreign language), core plaster, diamonds...I did recognize that, but really, who wants to use diamonds to grind their teeth? 

So in the end I walked out with half my face numb and my daughters and even my dad were laughing at my lisp and my attempt to pucker up and torture my girls with old lady drooly kisses! 

I made pickles!

With the help of the ever-fabulous Lilly, who sang "Paparazzi" while we worked.  My mom canned a lot of fruit while I was growing up and I have to say I hated pretty much the whole process...the only part I liked was eating the finished product.  Especially pears...yum!  and pickles...yum!  So, when I became a grown up I never considered canning anything...I'll buy it already made, thank you very much.  BUT...my mother suckered my daughter into helping her make pickles a couple of years ago, who in turned suckered me into it...and guess what?  Turns out that making pickles is super easy...much easier than canning peaches and pears and cherries and apricots, and canning in Idaho is much more pleasant than canning in California's hot summers, I don't think we got over 90 degrees here this year. 

So to make a long story short....Lilly and I made pickles in my own kitchen, with my own canning equipment for the very first time.  Take a peek at the photographic evidence!