Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Cheese...

I have to drive to the dentist in 20 minutes with the kids. We used to be able to walk there, but then our pediatric dentist had the nerve to move her office further away. Some people only think of themselves, you know?

Anyway, Susie's still annoyed at me because I made her get braces back in July (she NEEDED braces). The poor kid cried herself to sleep the first night she had them on, saying she didn't like having things in her mouth. So, yeah, if you enjoy feeling like garbage over every important decision you make, then parenting just might be right for you.

In the meantime, I have an appointment for a crown that I've had to cancel twice, and now I just don't want to go at all. I sort of lost my dental momentum, you know? Also, I'm tired of spending money, and for the life of me I don't understand dental insurance rates. When someone says they'll pay 40% of an unspecified amount, it doesn't really matter how good you are at math, you can't figure out the answer. And believe me, I AM good at math.

Susie ate this in front of me. She's mean.

I'm still eating low-fat so I don't set off those stomach pains, and really, this is a very unsatisfying way to live. I try telling myself that I've been allowed to eat what I want for 54 years, and that's a pretty good run. But that still doesn't make me any less sick of grilled chicken. I threw caution to the winds today by putting the chicken on a bed of lettuce and sprinkling that with a tiny bit of feta cheese and a teeny amount of Italian dressing.

I know! I'm wild and crazy.

It didn't taste that good. What's worse, I felt really old, chomping on my flavorless healthy meal while avoiding the back tooth that needs a crown. And the first person to tell me to use low-fat dressing is getting blocked (I mean, if I can figure out how to do that). I swear, I will not go gentle into that dark night.