March 18, 2013
It finally hit. Daily life has been busy so I've sidestepped, pretending not to notice, but the question boomed in my head repeatedly enough that it needed to be acknowledged. Right around that same time I admitted a few of my teeth really really hurt, but hold that thought for now.
It's been over 3 years and questions of my blogging have now bubbled to the surface. What am I doing here? Do I want to keep at it? Blah, blah, blah- just all the usual things long term bloggers eventually ponder and I was mucking about in it looking for a guiding star (asterisk since it's keyboard related?).
I do like this creative space. I keep it honest and true with most negativity quelled and posts typically pleasant. I do it because that's pretty much who I am and I want the blog to reflect that. But then because of that, because it's "pretty much" but not totally who I am, this blog doesn't always house my voice. It falls flat at times, dull. I post three recipes in a row because I'm having a tough go of it but don't dare type because my family might worry, or even worse, feel the need to kick into action because of something I wrote. Oh family and friends this is not your fault! How dare I speak of being too loved, too cared for. But you do know what I mean, don't you all? If Bear or Ace were ever to express certain such things I'd jump in an instant.
Anyway, my life is cheery to begin with and I see (oh how I see) I've got it good even when severely distracted with this or that. I'd just like to push my trembling walk on this tightrope a little further toward raw honesty rather than simple truth. Figure out a balance of who I truly, truly am- recipes still included.
So on that note, ahem, I would like to tell you I recently spent some time in an oral surgeon's office. Sure the surgery part of that sentence is there, but the read between the lines part that always sucks the life out of me is: we don't have dental insurance (although it's not important in this case). There's a reason to tell this story. Champ has a most treasured friend from high school. His name is Steve and because I was dating Champ in high school, Steve became one of my most treasured friends too. That boy's been in school an awful long time, but dedication pays off and now he's an oral surgeon and this story just got good because this past Friday he was MY oral surgeon.
We pulled up to the practice and saw his name on the placard and I teared up because we know how hard he's worked and because we are so proud of him and because HOLY COW he was about to work on my teeth. I had traveled to Connecticut for this procedure, but hadn't seen the circle so fully until that moment of recognition- this was sooo not just about my darn teeth.
We stayed at his house afterwards (wait, you don't stay with your oral surgeon afterward? ) and had a marvelous time. It must have been good because I remember quite a bit of it even through my post procedure fog. I remember his amazing wife C (by now a most treasured friend in her own right, xoxo) and their deliciously perfect baby, A. Actually, it was probably the most enjoyable way one could imagine to recover from dental work: caring friends, newborn baby snuggles, and St. Patrick's Day antics providing humor all help to sum up my grateful heart and healing mouth.
Thank you, Steve.
I mean it.