Don Quixote | Love and Humor

TMW… 

You realize you’ve spent at least the last 5 years chasing and fighting windmills. 

At least. 

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Cankerasaurus, Pt. Deux

Real life testimonial:

Oldest son had a dental appointment this week, for which he was numbed-up. Lo, and behold, by today, he was complaining of these “odd, foreign” craters in his mouth.

And, I laaaauughed… not because I was experiencing some weird form of schadenfreud, but because I am so familiar with this post-dental (post-hormonal, post-younameit) phenomenon, and he’s managed to go over 14 years without having said experience.

Also, while I can’t cure it, per se, I do know how to numb and disinfect it with a couple of items already in our cabinet: Clove and Frankincense (Vitality, in this case, because the drops were going in the mouth).

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Clove and clove oil are long-established discomfort-shifters in the dental community. When I got dry-rot after having my wisdom teeth out, what did the dentist pack my gums with? Clove.

As far as Frank, it has been show in studies to have anti-inflammatory properties. And, trust me, the cankerasaurus is indeed inflamed.

Going forward, he’ll be brushing with Thieves toothpaste (containing clove, peppermint, nothing artificial, and no flouride, and he gets to take Thieves Spray with him to school (nice to have on hand for yucky school surfaces, anyway, but also good to give a quick spray for fresh breath, and some “clove touch-up.”

Hormonal Sebaceous, Pt. 2 | Love & Oils

Let’s dig into the personal a bit today, lady-folk (I can get to you gents later, but I hear a LOT less of you complaining about “things” being out of whack).

Several months ago, I posted a silly little poem about hormonal cysts. I’ve not dealt with acne much in my life, but I have dealt with the hormonal cysts (always on my face), that comes every, oh, let’s say 28-32 days.

Today, I saw this graphic on a friend’s page, and it reminded me that I absolutely must share my experience with Progressence Plus:

 

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Graphic Credit: Emily Allison at ‘Dream Catchers’ on Facebook

 

Mine? Well, I got a lot of help from Big Pharma for nearly a couple of decades in controlling my hormones. But, after birthing our third son, and crossing the closer-to-40 mark, I decided I needed to start backing off those chemical hormones, as much good as they had done for me. It’s simply not recommended to go for too long beyond a certain age.

What frightened me most, though, what how I would feel without las drogas. And, if I wasn’t scared of how I would feel BEFORE going off the chemicals, I was mortified for the first two months that I actually did. Mortified with how I felt, the weight I gained, and most importantly, how I was reacting to/treating others.

Y’all, I was not #LovingOthersWell, and that’s A-Number 1 for me, especially when it comes to my family.

So, I tried the Progressence Plus–which, I’ll be honest–I had avoided because even I had reservations. You know, the ones I had about oils in general before I started using them. Namely, “This is for hormonal old broads and hippie weirdos who hate meds and normal people.”

There. I said it.

Because of my overwhelmingly good experiences with oils in spite of my initial trepidation, I knew I had to try it before giving in and going back to something I knew wasn’t serving my body best.

The bad news? It didn’t help me return to “normal” immediately. It was not a quick fix.

The GREAT news? It did send me on the long, slow, steady train out of crazy-town. I can honestly say that I am fully supported emotionally by this serum, which contains some nifty (and lovely-smelling) oils. I didn’t even have any totally normal, but highly unpleasant cyst that month.

By the end of it, I knew I had to re-order.

Post-script edit: Around the end of November, this went out of stock. “No biggie,” I thought. Again, because there had been no BAZINGA! quick reaction, I figured maybe I had just settled into a new normal. Why not use this as an opportunity to (torture myself), er, I mean, experiment? December was not my best month for loving people well. It’s back on this month’s order, and I won’t try that fun “experiment” with myself and my family again any time soon…

Art & Humor: Laissez les Bons Temps Rouler

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I originally posted this 1/15/15. It’s good for a #repost. Namely, because this year’s Carnival Tree is still up. Old habits die hard, y’all.
Oh, Carnival Tree, Oh, Carnival Tree

You are indeed obnoxious

Oh, Carnival Tree, Oh, Carnival Tree

You make me green and nauseous.

 

We put you up a month ago

But taking down, we are so slow.

 

Oh, Carnival Tree, Oh, Carnival Tree

Your fleur-di-lis is crooked.

 

Oh, Carnival Tree, Oh, Carnival Tree

Your beads are kind of pretty

Oh, Carnival Tree, Oh, Carnival Tree

Have I been a mite petty?

 

Though Christmastime has come and passed

You are truly built to last

 

Oh, Carnival Tree, Oh, Carnival Tree

I love you ‘cause I’m lazy.

Art: New Days

I don’t usually get quite this dark in my writing (I’m a silly humorist and long-time A&E writer, remember?! Nothing serious about that!), nor do I typically explain my writing, but I found myself sitting in a hallway today anticipating some bad news based on 9+ months of declining health, and new tests, while watching my child deal with a new school (already) without his completely-necessary routine. He did better than expected (“I created some things to quiz him further… he’s beyond that isn’t he?” ‘Yes.’… “I did have some trouble getting him to sit still, but not a big deal.” ‘As expected.’ *grin*). Maybe even better, blood work showed that I’m not dying any more than usual at this time, so I’m doing better (YAY!).  

We’ll make it through Kindergarten yet… 

WalkWalkWalk,

Line up,

“Shriek!”

All very

happy

here.

 

SkipSkipSkip.

Sit down.

Play.

 

Our babies,

Learning

game.

 

Now, it’s time.

Away—

He—

Goes.

 

Breaking heart,

But not

So.

 

More great fear

And hope.

Please!

 

God, help him

and me

live.

 

Through this trans-

ition.

For

 

Mommy-ing

is swift,

Love.

Mine.