@_@!!

[lavendertook]

Two and a half hour session in the dentist's chair this afternoon that started off with "Oops, sorry" and a nice big drill hole in the bottom of my tongue, and it just got more fun from there. asghajgadjdfgusfgajkfhklj!!!!! Anyway, going back to bed and curling in a fetal ball now.

So I have a really good excuse right now for why I haven't replied if you've posted me. Will be on later this evening when I wake up.

Hey, nothing worse can happen today, right? And the bright side: I eat ice cream all weekend.

Comments

[lavendertook.livejournal.com]

Aww, you poor thing with those allergies! But the yogurt is better for you. I'm not going for better for me today--I went for Godiva. aahaha!

No, I haven't. *poors some green tea, folds legs, snuggles a kitty, and expects to hear a tale of pain that will make her feel she got off lucky today* (-;

Where does the red fern grow? Damned if I can remember.

[anneheart.livejournal.com]

The book takes place in the 1930s in some goddess forsaken town out in the middle of nowhere where they've not electricity or indoor plumbing or any of the accepted modern conviences of this modern age. The main character gets him some coon hounds, trains them to kill everything they see coons, enters and wins a coon killing competition, then loses his dogs when they attack a mountain lion 'cause they've been trained to kill everything rather than recognize that you don't mess with mountian lions. Tis one of those books you either love or hate. I did not love it.

I did, however, have to teach it to my sixth graders during my student teaching. I taught in Greeneville, CT, which is in the heart of the city of Norwich - poverty abounds and it's about as far from rural America in the 1930s as you can get. My kids had no way to identify with the main character. None. Their lives were far too different.

So Anneheart asked around and discovered that CCJ of the Henna Page had parents who'd grown up in Appalachia in the 1930s. She sent me a biography, which we read, and the kids came up with questions for her, which I emailed during lunch and which we discussed after lunch and the next day. It was a huge success, that.

CCJ's father father was the town dentist. Now, this town didn't have electricity, so he had to, ah, power the drill manually via a foot pedal; so if you had much drilling to be done, you had to hope that his leg wasn't tired.

*shudders at the thought*

Can you imagine that? The kids had a very hard time with that idea - foot powered drill.

Anyway, I hope you're feeling better and that your dentist always has access to electricity.

Re: Where does the red fern grow? Damned if I can remember.

[lavendertook.livejournal.com]

I don't think I'd love it either. It sounds like the message is: be careful of who you pick fights with, because if they're bigger than you they'll whup ya, and shows no concern with the idea that there should be limits to your fighting because you should never hurt someone who is less powerful than you. The incentive against violence here is self-protection only, rather than care for others.


Ick on foot drills. Hope they had access to now frowned upon methods of pain killing.

Thank you--I am better today. I just don't know if I've chosen an incompetent dentist or if what I'm dealing with with all the repeated novocaine shots, some due to defective needles, and painful drilling still, and wondering if your teeth are being over shaved, and slip ups that lead to tongue drilling, is all par for the course--it's not trusting the person who you're putting permanent parts of your body into the care of that is unsettling in an ongoing way.