Walk of Shame

Housewives Tarot

No, not that kind of walk of shame - not only am I married, I'm too old for that now: I would take pride in it rather than shame.

I was at the dentist today, having slinked out of an appointment on Friday 13th (are they KIDDING me ?!) You'll recall my morbid irrational fear. Today I was there for a filling, which involved a needle for anaesthetic being put into my pre-numbed back of my mouth. I cried. Silently, of course, since after all, I am an adult. 

During my stay, tears continued to leak out in spite of my best efforts, the dentist's words of advice on how to calm down, and the death-grip I had on the dental assistant's hand - a very talented person who could handle all kinds of tasks with her remaining hand, as we found out.

I have to go back next week for either a triple trip for a root canal, or one single trip for an extraction. I have opted for an extraction - fortunately the affected tooth is in a place that will not leave me looking like I'm some kind of Appalachian hillbilly.
 

As I drooped and drooled home (the anaesthetic took 4 hours instead of 2 to wear off) I pondered my father, Belo, who regularly falls asleep during root canals and other dental nastiness.

I considered Titch, whose arm had to swell almost to bursting point with pus-filled yuck before he would consent to A&E.

I considered my Good Twin, whose pain threshold meant she thought a burst appendix was a particularly feisty bout of trapped wind. On the other hand, she thought her gall bladder packing up was agony, so please all my gods don't let that happen to me.

I considered my friend Dianne, among whose symptoms of Behcets is sweating blood. Literally.

And I considered my sister, Auntie Fashion, who has been in Addenbrooke's for just about 2 weeks so far while they work out what they can do about the PML without poking the Behcets back into action.

And I was ashamed.

WIP Wednesday: Bagatelle

Tarot of Durer

I know ! I know ! I keep meaning  to post ... and then I blink,and even more days have passed by post-less. But we have been out and about with the kids' various sports things, and also bouncing on sofas and buying a suite. It is orange and I love it. I shall love it even more when it arrives and I no longer have to sit on the old sofa and sink slowly through the cushions to come to rest on the floor.

Yes, I had a little windfall thanks to the PPI refund thing, and je suis désolée, désolée, désolée au fond de mon coeur to have to tell you I was totally adult and grown-up about it all, and wasted frittered alloacted nearly the whole blimmin' amount on bills and paying down debt. Man, I don't like being sensible, it's just no fun whatsoever.

Also summer arrived last weekend (and left today). But it meant the roses whooshed into bloom, and of the 3 roses in the front of the house, two are showing their colors:

This one can stay: it is scented, I like the color, and although it's a hybrid tea (SO passé)   it is generous with its blooms.

This one ? Will have to work much harder to merit being kept: the color is fine, the flower shape is 'meh', but by far its worst sin is to have no fragrance. Destructo Boy claims there is a faint scent, but he may be full of pity for it:

  
And in spite of feeling like I've been out all the time, and outside, I am managing to knit a little:

An arty shot. A rubbish arty shot.

It is a baby pattern, 'Star Jumper' from Woman's Weekly Knitting & Crochet Spring 2010. Of course, we sniggered when we read that it demands 3 balls of Rowan Cashsoft DK,(rrp £5.75/$9.69 per 50g ball) and substituted it with the far more practical and inexpensive Cygnet Kiddies Supersoft DK in 'Lemon' at £1.79/$3.02 per 100g ball.

I can no longer maintain this light and airy manner, any nonchalance (and more French vocabulary) is on the verge of deserting me in the subsuming panic I feel at heading off to the dentist for a check-up momentarily. While I trickle down the road in a river of my own fear-driven sweat, why not pop over to Tami's Amis to see what normal people are up to ? 

 

WIP Wednesday 161: A Bit on the Side

Housewives Tarot

I know you will rejoice almost as much as I did, when you hear that I skipped merrily out of the dentist's a mere 10 minutes or so after entering full of gloom and doom.

No, the appointment wasn't cancelled; but instead of the needles and drills I had been dreading, there was a gentle scraping, a refill, and some kind of mini-hairdryer type thing to set the filling stuff.

I couldn't believe my luck, let me tell you. It even made all the jokes that were made about my wussiness endurable.

I decided I would treat myself to some yarn, blow the expense, as I had been such a good, brave girl, and not one tear had actually escaped either eye. Unfortunately, the newish posh local yarn shop is apparently shut on Mondays, and has some seemingly random other opening hours.

That meant I was forced instead to buy buttons from the tiny new buttons and beads shop:

It is such a tiny and specialized shop I am not sure how long it will last, so I thought I'd better get a few for just in case, and put them away somewhere safe - at some point no doubt I will make things that they go with.

I am afraid I have rather been cheating on my poor old DH - I have been knitting Something Else rather than his Old Man Cardigan .... I do not know how will take such a huge betrayal.

But I have now completed the right front, including pocket; and last night began the left front. There is no picture of the Other Project, as that would constitute proof of my infidelity  ....

Go and see purer works over at Tami's Amis .....

High Noon

Fenestra Tarot

 
I am not here.

No, I'm not a figment of your overactive imagination; this post is scheduled.

I am at the dentist. 

My dentist is nothing like the one below, but the one below is the archetype taprooted into my brain like a particularly malevolent dandelion.

I am fully prepared for any aftermath: I am stocked up with ibuprofen, paracetamol and gin.

Think of me kindly when I'm gone.

Gloria Gaynor Iz Me

Hanson-Roberts Tarot

I don't know if I can make a coherent sentence right  now, but just for you, I'll give it a go: I had little if any sleep last night, as the intermittent toothache that has been grumbling recently returned in such whacking great force that I was sucking down any and all painkillers that I could find in the house by the handful. Yes, that includes the kids' Calpol - I was that desperate.

First thing this morning I was on the phone to the dentist where I thought I was registered and where I regularly take the kids for their checkups; the receptionist who has retained her job for quite a while in spite of her total lack of any people skills whatsoever told me that since I had not visited for myself since 2006 (I know, I know) that I no longer counted as registered, and would have to call the NHS 111 number for an emergency dentist.

I did that, and having answered all the 111 lady's questions - which incidentally and happily for me showed that I was not having either a heart attack, stroke or bleeding to death - I obtained yet another phone number, this time for some kind of emergency dental portal thingy.

I explained my piteous story again to the dental lady, who promptly gave me a special secret squirrel code, which magically granted me access to an emergency appointment, safely past Cerberus, Hell's Receptionist .... to my own old dentist.

No, I have no idea how that works.

I actually got there like a grown-up, unaccompanied and under my own steam (as opposed to being dragged kicking and screaming, like usual) and in time. The dentist and his assistant were lovely and friendly even though I was wide-eyed with panic, sweating and shaking like an over-raced horse; he took one look and said that I would most likely have to have the tooth removed, but for now he would put some special stuff on it that would hold everything including the pain at bay until I could return for a regular appointment. 

I begged and implored, I wailed and emphatically did NOT gnash my teeth asking him to remove it now this minute please .... No, you're right, I didn't, actually - the pain was only 9.9 out of 10, still not quite enough for me to request any kind of treatment involving needles. He said this paste would be working within 3 hours.

It didn't feel like it to me, so a quick trip to the pharmacy up the road where I got lots of sympathy, massive doses of ibuprofen and some topical stuff containing actual Lidocaine (OH WHAT JOY) greatly improved things so that I was able to doze off for a nap on the sofa with the cat.

What ?  

Yes, Moonheart - the cat whose attack resulted in a pus-filled A&E date night for DH and me. She loves me, though, with lots of purrs and cuddles. I guess like goes to like.

And now I have a return visit to the dentist scheduled which will weigh over me as heavy as an elephant hanging by a frazzled old little piece of fraying string. I have focussed on my goal, which I hope will give me the inner fortitude to survive the coming oral traumas:

Big Girl Pants will be mine again soon.

WIP Wednesday 151:The Drama Llama

Robin Wood Tarot

 

Wow, it has been one of those weeks: Belo was in hospital for an angiogram, and they kept him overnight; then the next day they told him he could walk home and didn't bother telling any of his family that he'd been discharged. Auntie Fashion goes into hospital today for a Campath treatment for her Behcets. DH has promised me on pain of being gutted slowly with a teaspoon that he is heading for an A&E when he finishes work today - Moonheart bit his arm at the weekend, and now it is hugely infected and goopy. Plus he needs a tetanus shot.

And today there has also been a visit to the dentist.

Not, not a snowball's chance in hell was it me.

Mini Diva had a cracked tooth which then broke. Today at her emergency appointment, the dentist injected anaesthetic and whipped the remainder of it out in like 3 seconds. She is a lovely - and good - dentist. Mini Diva was a little sweaty afterwards, but didn't make even the tiniest of squeaks during the whole experience. If I hadn't given birth to her, I'd be seriously doubting she was mine.

Unless there was one of those terrible mistakes you read about, where babies are accidentally switched ? What do you think ?

In spite of all the drama, I have managed a little progress on the Vintage Lee Target Baby Cardigan:

I am thinking that maybe the thin little lines of twisted stitches that create the simple pattern is actually too simple and plain. I decided that a project requiring a cable needle was not one I wanted to work on in hospital, which also ruled out the stripey cabled baby sweater, and the crocheted baby blankey is complete. So, what to do ? 

The first few items in my queue are not small, and probably aren't straightforward. I don't have the yarn yet for the kids' school sweaters, which are the next thing on my timeline to do. 

Yes, I guess I could have taken a book, but I find it impossible to read and chat at the same time; not so with knitting and chat. I recalled I recently found this pattern in one of the charity shops:

Patons Kismet is discontinued (of course) but I had recently added another ball of Wendy Happy in 'Prussian' to my stash. For some reason, it seemed a good and practical idea to substitute this 4ply nylon/bamboo blend yarn for the Kismet yarn, which was a mohair/acrylic blend DK.

No, I have no idea what my train of thought was. Or even if there was one at all, if the truth be known.

The gauge given in the pattern is 24 stitches and 30 rows to 4 inches/10cm, stocking stitch on 3.75mm needles. Of course, the pattern doesn't actually use stocking stitch. Many rational and normal people might have knitted a swatch at this point; but I have have never claimed to be rational, and certainly any claim to normality would be a big fat old lie. Plus, where would be the adventure if I knew beforehand how it would work out ?

While I continue down this literally uncharted path of adrenaline-filled excitement, why not pop over to Tami's Amis to see the progress of others ?