No more pancakes? :- (

I'm supposed to be writing a bio about myself for my new teaching job, but obviously that's not what I'm doing. I'm having a mental block. I usually have no problem talking about myself so I don't know what my problem is. I'll try again later, right now I'm going to post, while I sip on this nice glass of Riesling.

So, in my last post I was ranting about my stupid wisdom teeth. I dragged myself to Tufts Dental School, preparing myself for a horrible ordeal, but they were actually pretty awesome. It was the best experience at a dentist I've ever had to be honest.  The student dentist assigned to me was super nice. He explained every little thing he was doing and made me laugh a few times. Even the supervising dentist was a sweetheart. My pleasant visit sure as heck didn't have a pleasant outcome though. Apparently, I have to have all 4 wisdom  teeth pulled out, two of which are partially impacted (which means they basically have to operate to remove them). Lucky me! The two top teeth are $100 per tooth and the bottom two (the impacted ones) are $348 per frikin' tooth! Get your calculators out ladies and gentlemen. Then they have to tack on anesthesia. The "student" dentist said I would be fine with IV sedation, which basically gets you all loopy (but still conscious) and you don't remember a thing.. so he claimed. I believed him. He told me that they wouldn't do it today. they would give me antibiotics for the infection, Advil for the pain, and an appointment to come back and have the 4 teeth pulled. I took my little printout to the front desk and the receptionist starts punching numbers, and then looks at me and says "Wait, you're not getting knocked out for this? Oh, honey, you need to be put out for this procedure." So, she tacks on another $214 for anesthesia.

The total comes to $1,164.

Yep, that's what I said.

And the worst part is, that they have no appointments until October 8th (since the operation is done by an actual surgical dentist, not a student... thank baby Jesus!). So I'm supposed to pray my tooth doesn't start hurting again before then, and that I wont get fired for taking a week off of work one month after I start.

Sigh.

In happier news, our garden is thriving! OK, thriving is a bit of an exaggeration, but it's doing really well for our first attempt at gardening.

we have cherry tomatoes!

jalapeños...

cauliflower (not sure if it's supposed to look like that.. it might be dead.)

ONE cute little eggplant..

and a crap load of kale. Note to self: no kale next year.

Well, with the month of August upon us, N. and I have stayed true to our vow to stop being such major hefers. We both got on the scale this weekend, and that sealed the deal. But of course, it wasn't August yet.. and it was the weekend. We decided to have our last brunch at Sorella's on Saturday morning. 

There's N., looking all consumed by the awareness that this will be the last time 

she eats here for a very long time.

Not even a $3.95 mimosa can make her smile.. so sad.

The mimosa really isn't that small. I just have unnaturally large Sasquatch hands.

And there it is... chocolate chip banana raspberry pancakes. Aren't they beautiful? 

How I will miss these pancakes...

No more bacon.. no more dreamy desserts dripping in chocolate.. no more Sorella's brunches. Well, at least until we get this "roundness" under control. I tell you, N. is lucky I'm a wannabe chef, because this diet could be so much worse for her. This is just an excuse for me to get even more adventurous in my culinary endeavors.

Yesterday N. agreed to go walking around JP pond. I tried to get her to do some light jogging, but she shot me a look of a thousand fiery suns and told me not to push it. So, I shut up and kept walking. Today we have an appointment with Billy Blanks in our living room for some Tae Bo! Yes, we're taking it back. The entire box set was $8 at a yard sale and just because he's not popular anymore doesn't mean we won't still break a sweat, so Tae Bo it is.

Namaste bitches!

-D.

At least the dog is OK..

So, my first yoga session went... OK I guess. Except for the foot cramp I got while in a camel pose. I fell out of it, rolled onto my side and kicked my dog in the face. She's fine.. learned her lesson though and took her bone and laid down on the other side of the room. I'm not as rusty as I thought I was balance wise, although I'm definitely not as flexible as I used to be (when did I stop being able to touch my toes?). I FEEL better. I have to get N. to try it. She's not the transcendental type though. She's more of the "sit-on-the-couch-with-a-beer-watching-UFC fighting" type. And I'll admit that lately I've been the "sit-on-the-couch-watching-the-Food Network-then cooking-what-I-see-and-eat-it" type myself. But we've both realized that love (and our food obsession) has made us... unhealthy. N. can barely walk uphill one block without having a coronary and me..I just said I can't touch my toes. Oh, and none of my clothes seem to fit anymore (without making me look like a double cheeseburger with a side of fries). It is safe to say that we both have ..expanded.. in the past 3 and a half years. We both have admitted that this is simply unacceptable and have vowed to do something about it. We've vowed for about 3 months now (even pretended to be on a diet for a few weeks, that is until we drove by Mama's Empanadas on a trip to NY... if you haven't tried them, then get your little butts there ASAP --> little pockets filled with heaven ) but have yet to really do anything about it.

I tried to convince N. that we should become vegetarians. That didn't go over very well, considering she could totally live off of bacon if necessary. I'm typically the cook in this household so I've been trying to keep it healthy and we definitely EAT better, but we still don't move very much. I don't think I can make N. go for a jog just yet, but I'm hoping at least yoga will make us move off the couch. Baby steps.

So, after my yoga session, I was feeling all at peace and at one with mind's eye and all that crap. I went outside to light my little Buddha incense thing and take a deep breath, wiggle my toes in the grass. On the way back inside, feeling all serene, I decided to check my mailbox. It was empty. Now, when I moved to Boston, I did a change of address and checked that little option where you can order magazine subscriptions to your new address. I ordered Food Network magazine, Good Housekeeping and Better Homes and Gardens (shut up, don't even say anything yet because it gets better). I moved in the last week of February. It is now June 23rd and I have yet to receive ONE damn issue of Better Homes in Gardens. This may not seem like a big deal, but with all the stress and craziness going on in my life, I look forward to those magazines in the mail. Especially since N. has forbidden me to purchase ANY magazines at the supermarket checkout (I have a little bit of a problem). I get absolutely ecstatic when I open that mailbox and see a new shiny magazine waiting for me. For that moment, I'm unstressed. I open up the pages and I imagine all the delicious meals I'm going to conjure up from the recipes and how organized my linen closet will be... yea I have a 50's housewife trapped inside of me. So what? The point is, that I NEED my magazines. So I leave my serenity on the porch and march instead to call these incompetent magazine thieves. I trip over the dog, stub my toe and knock over a glass of water on the way. So, now I'm cursing and stomping up the stairs. I get this bubbly, way too excited to be working at a call center, Paula Deen impersonator on the line. I demand to know where my magazine is and why they're stealing my money. She doesn't change her tone. Calls me "sweetie" and "hun." She tells me that it sometimes takes 6-8 weeks to process orders and according to my file, I should be receiving my first issue in mid-July. July! For cryin' out loud. So I ask her why it takes more than 3 months to put my magazine in the mail but only takes 3 days to cash my check. She calls me "sweetie" again and apologizes. She says she'll extend my subscription by 3 months. She asks if she can do anything else for me.

No.

I slam the phone down and stomp back downstairs where I proceed to slip on the water I spilled earlier and fall right on my ass. I lie on my back and scream obscenities.


So much for that peace and serenity thing.

-D.