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Being Brave or Little Shop of Horrors

If you get queasy or gross out easily you may not want to be here today. Bye-bye.

Old Timers already know of my irrational fear of the dentist. This fear is so great I haven’t seen a dentist since 2006. It hardly seems that long but I guess so. I’ll do anything to avoid the dentist, which is basically to just ignore whatever problem I’m having until I lose a tooth. Which I did this afternoon eating lunch. Damn hard bread! I love it. I’ve known that two teeth have needed attention since before I left the law office in 2011. After that I was unemployed for nearly a year and could have gone at any time because I had dental insurance.

In other words; I’m aware this problem is all in my head, that’s self-defeating and even self-deprecating.

Of course, it’s right in the front. (I don’t have any back teeth on the top)

I’ve never had a good smile. Ever. I was born with defective top teeth three of which never came in as adult teeth. I walked around looking like a Jack-O-Lantern throughout Jr. High and the first two years of High School at which time the orthodontist put dentures on my retainer and, for the first time in my whole entire life, I had a whole entire smile. I got dates. ;)

Yes, friends and neighbors, I’ve had false teeth in one form or another since I was about 16. When the retainer came off I got ‘bonded teeth’ to fill in the gap. I was very happy. 14 years later they fell out. I was Gappy for over a month. I got my first plate. Things went downhill fast from there. I got my second plate nearly 20 years ago. It’s needed to have teeth put on it for at least the last 10 years. If you follow me on Facebook you may have noticed by now that whenever I post a picture of myself there’s never a big toothy grin on my aging face. Just a little smirk. A little upturn at the corners of my mouth. I have always been extremely conscious of my bad teeth I never laugh too loud or too long and whenever I feel a big wide toothy grin breaking out on my face I immediately yank it back. I’ve been doing this for about 35 years. It’s no fun. Trust me, it freakin’ sucks. But I’ve pulled it off well. Most people have no idea of my dental problem and are shocked to find out about it, on the rare occasions I chose to tell someone.

This blog don’t count. I’m not looking at you while I write this. Get it?

So the fucker snapped off today. No, it didn’t hurt. It was half a crown anyway just like the one on the other side. However, this left me with a problem. I nutted up and called the dentist. I got no answer twice. I wondered what dentist takes Wednesday off? I know myself well so I forced myself to drive to the dentist office (instead of the post office where I should have gone to put a prize pack in the mail). It was open. I walked in. I explained my problem very quietly cuz I was too embarrassed to open my mouth very much. The nice lady tried to get me to have a cleaning because that’s always the first thing they do. I explained that wasn’t going to happen and why. I got an appointment for 3pm…today. I went home (just around the corner, I know, I know, I’m insane. I’m irrational, the office isn’t even out of my way I can spit on it from my house!)

I filled out the paperwork. I went back. I changed the insurance information. I was taken to the backroom. The hygienist had been informed about the hysterical woman coming in to see her. She was very nice to me. She tried to take a regular x-ray and had to use smaller (child sized) equipment because my mouth is very small. Every dentist has remarked on how small my mouth is.

Dr. Hannah recognized me. I’m hard to forget on this score. I’m the chick that cries the whole time she’s in the dentist chair (silently, thank you, no blubbering) and grips the arms so tight my knuckles turn white and my hands are numb by the time it’s over. He remembered my plate too. He was amazed to see I still had the same ‘little masterpiece’ and he was shocked to see that the core and post he gave me in 2006 was still in good shape even though I’d never had the actual crown put on it. Yeah, that’s a front tooth, it matches my other front tooth which isn’t mine either. Well, ok, they’re mine, I paid for ‘em.

I wanted to be brave and not cry and buck up and do The Right Thing. So I did…sorta. I didn’t cry to the end and that was more out of relief than fear. This my chance. This is THEE chance I’ve waited for ALL these years. MY chance to have a NICE SMILE. I wants it, Precious. I do. I’m getting teary just thinking about it. For me, it’s better than winning the lottery. It’s even better than a publishing contract. How’s that? Dr. Hannah asked what I wanted to do and I told him; I want a whole new top plate. I have THREE teeth left on top. THREE. Two fake ones and one that’s falling apart. I want this over with. All of the shame and the pain and the embarrassment I’ve suffered all these years I just can’t do it anymore. I want to smile without thinking about it first. I want to let out a belly laugh without covering my mouth. I want to have a conversation without gauging the distance between my lips and my teeth as I speak. Even my husband has never seen me without my teeth. He knows I have a plate. He’s never really seen it. I hide it from him, I cup it in my hand in the morning when brushing my teeth so he doesn’t have to see it. Well, no, so I don’t have to see him see it. That’s more accurate. If we shower together, I turn my back on him to brush my teeth. It’s always been the sorest point with me. Especially in this day and age when ‘whitening’ is so damn important. People have gone overboard with that and I’m almost glad I didn’t get to be one of them because I would have been. I would have blindingly white totally fake looking teeth if those on top were mine.

I know. Ick.

So I’m going for it. At this point that shouldn’t be too damn hard! Not the ‘blinding white’ part…no. No. No. No. I’m 48. I EAT. So they will not be blinding white.

He’s submitting my rather hideous full mouth x-ray to my insurance company. They’ve never paid out a dime for me so I have little doubt this won’t be approved. In about a week I should be making an appointment for impressions. At that time I have little doubt the tooth that’s barely hanging on will become a ‘free extraction’. I’ll suffer for two more weeks with my ‘little masterpiece’ but at least I’ll have SOME teeth and then…I’ll walk into his office with 2-3 teeth and walk out with 16 on the top for the first time in just about forever.

As I left he said the same thing to me he always does; “Come on, smile for me. Smile.” I never smile for him. He tries so hard to get me to smile. He promised he is going to make me a beautiful smile. That I won’t frown anymore–that’s pretty much my ‘natural expression’. I have to force myself to smile if something doesn’t make me laugh first. Don’t take my picture! Don’t tell me to ‘smile’ it’s the WORST fake POS under the sun. I swear. It is. It’s awful. Strangely enough, I think he’s actually looking forward to this nearly as much as I am. Not for the money he’ll make either.

On my way out the nice lady at the desk again tried to get me to make an appointment for a cleaning. She said it would make me feel better. Oh yeah…I DO have all of my bottom teeth, btw! Well except 3. Wisdom teeth don’t count I don’t have any of them by necessity (small mouth, remember?). I only lost 1 molar on the bottom. See…I do take care of my teeth. I just got genetically ripped off on the top set. But I will have that cleaning and probably a small filling or two on the bottom when the top is taken care of. I’ll do it without crying (hopefully) because I’ll WANT the bottoms to look nice. It will MATTER then.

Who knows? Come mid-May or so there could be a picture of moi with a big smile. Come June/July there could be a picture of me in a BATHING SUIT with an even bigger smile!


Maybe it’s true. Maybe I’m not just getting older. Maybe I am getting just a wee bit better.


Writing It Out

That was the advice I received yesterday and again this morning. Both days I woke up crying. Both nights I dreamed of Charlie. I have to say, the only times I’ve ever dreamed of a pet after they’ve gone missing was so I could say ‘good-bye’. I hate that! I really do! I don’t want Charlie to be gone. I want him to come home. So I posted again on FB and Craig’s List. Some of my friends took pity on me and share the flyer…thank you! I even got in touch with animal control again. They have two absolutely beautiful black male cats…one with double paws….they’re up for adoption but they’re older cats and they are not Charlie. I asked them to post my flyer on their page since I noticed they were doing that for other people in town.

I don’t know which is worse; hoping or not hoping. After all, we all know that….

Not knowing, I guess that’s the worse thing of all.

Two nights ago I dreamed I was riding in a car and Charlie was on my shoulder–that’s the first clue he’s gone, he’s on the shoulder not the lap–he kept looking around and staring at me with those big copper penny eyes. I woke up feeling dread weighing down my heart. I went through the day and I didn’t complain. Last night I had the most horrible dream! There was a glass cage full of black cats–many of which had once been mine–some were full grown and others were just tiny kittens. I went to open the top and take them out and was firmly told ‘no’ by a man I couldn’t see at first. Then he came into view. Ares. The one from TV. My buddy always comes to me in that form in dreams even though we both know that’s not how he really appears it’s just easier for my brain to wrap around and…well…we still have that side deal about me not seeing his real face until after I’m dead and gone. I looked up at him and told him some of those were my cats, in fact, THERE’S CHARLIE! I tried to open it again and he slapped my hand hard. “NO! You can’t open it.” I was confused, I asked why and was instantly sorry. “They’re all rabid,” he stated. At first I thought he said they were RABBITS but that was not the case. “We have to test them.”

“Test? TEST? You’re gonna CUT OFF their HEADS!” I stomped my foot. “NO!” I tried to open the cage again. “There’s no stupid test just death.” Then I said some mean shit, something along the lines of him just wanting to kill something and he’d probably whack off their heads while they were still alive just for the fuckin’ fun of it.

He pushed me away. “I know you’re upset so I’ll let that go but I said: Don’t touch them.”

OH…I burst into tears right then and there inside the dream. I started yelling and screaming that they weren’t rabid and he wasn’t cutting off any heads! I told him he was mean! He was liar! Get outta my way! He just shook his head and said ‘no’. I sat on the floor in front of the glass cage with the cats looking at me and scratching at the glass. Each one looked perfectly healthy and lonely and sad. Like me. Suddenly one of the corners started opening and one of the kittens squeezed out. It ran up to me. It settled in my lap and looked up at with the bluest eyes. I went to pet it. He slapped my hand and put the kitten back in the cage. “I know it hurts but you can’t touch them. They’re rabid. What don’t you understand about that?” I got up, balled up my little fist and went to hit him. He took half a step back, shook his head again, looked at me sadly and then…the dream faded away. I woke up crying. I’m still crying.

As I got dressed I heard something about ‘hormonal women’ in my head and said–in my head–; We both know, I’ll never be ‘hormonal’ again. This is not hormones. I want my cat! Give him back!

I’ve been telling him that for nearly two weeks. He tells me he doesn’t have the cat, he doesn’t even like cats, and he’s sorry but he didn’t know he was supposed to be watching over my cat.

If ‘Red’ were here I’d ask him one question: How do you stop hoping? How do you just give up? I’d like to know so I can do it too.

The Cover & More

In case you don’t follow me on Facebook or Twitter where I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off! Here’s the cover for “Kingdoms of War”!


Ta-Da! :)

I hope you like it.

Here are the links to the nice people who hosted me today. Remember, each stop has its own excerpt. You do NOT want to miss the very revealing and insightful new Interview with Ares that our friend Queen Tutt conducted.

1- Queen Tutt:

2-Literal Addiction:

3- The Lusty Penguin:

4- Kristina’s Books n More:

5-Long & Short Reviews:

6-Indy Book Fairy:

7-Paranormal Authors that Rock:

8- Rage, Sex, & Teddy Bears:

Not too shabby. Yes, I know, if you already ‘like’ me or ‘follow’ me the only thing you can do is ‘tweet’ to enter the giveaway. I’ll fix that on the next giveaway, we’ll have a ‘free’ entry. But I’m hoping to get this prize to someone unfamiliar with me and our buddy.


Yes, on to this now! LOL

How do you like the banner Ronda/Queen Tutt made for me? I think it’s quite lovely. I’m ever so grateful for her help!

If you want to be part of this Release Tour just sign up by clicking this link So far I’ve got 11 confirmed blogs. That’s just in 2 days. Yes, I’ve been busting my ass! Not only did I put this info in the last mass email, I’ve sent it out to a few groups on FB, to the Twitterverse, and extended the invite personally to several blogs/sites. BUT, go me, I’m staying ahead of the curve by instantly noting the ‘yes’ responders on my Google Calendar :) Yeah! I always end up going batshit insane at the last minute with these things because I forget who’s supposed to get what and when. :( But not this time. I also put the info up on the site. The only stipulation to getting the ARC for review is you must have reviewed at least 1 other book in the series. If you haven’t you can sign up to do that…in fact two people already have and I ended up sending out the entire series twice today! All-in-all, so far, something around 5 sites has taken the whole thing and will offer reviews in the months leading up to the big release. That ain’t too shabby either.

Little by little we are getting there.

And not just with the book….my thighs are just barely touching either other! WOOOOOT! My calves are getting tight. So’s my thighs and butt. I think even my tummy has gone down a little bit as all of the pairs of pants that had me feeling like an over-stuffed sausage now have a bit of room. ;) Still having fun with my Wii and loving the tennis, gotten really good at bowling and baseball too. Not so good at dancing. Yes, according to it I am still ‘unbalanced’…hehehe…but getting better. I’m chugging along at a rather brisk pace as I use the machine although I’m not pushing it past 15 minutes at a time. I strive for between 12 and 15. Maybe one day I’ll push for the whole 20 but right now I’m happy and I have oodles of extra energy lately. I actually WANT to do things other than sit on the couch. It’s AMAZING! Truly just….mind-boggling.

Can you hear Him laughing at me??? LOL Yep, he’s the Best Personal Trainer Ever. Not once has he yelled at me, mocked me, put me down, called me a dirty name, he just smiles and encourages–repeatedly tells me to breathe through my nose and not my mouth– and he pokes a little fun at me when he knows it will pick me up. Once or twice he’s even said he’s proud of me. Now there’s a real accomplishment on my part. :)

On the Charlie Front…still no Charlie although Harry was having loud ‘words’ with some cat out there this morning even hubby went to check it out. We couldn’t see the other cat and we called for Charlie just in case. I mean, it SNOWED last night! Motherfucker! SNOW! It was very cold and it’s going to be very cold again tonight. I figure, if Charlie is still around, that should be enough to force him to come home. Surely he’d rather be cuddled up on the bed under the covers the way he likes it than out there in snow and ice even if he is gettin’ a little sumthin’-sumthin’. Still hoping he’s out there, that he’s ok, and he’ll come home soon.

Well, off to keep rolling along. Raven and Nora are calling and this chapter has to be completely gutted and redone before we go any further. Gotta be ready by June 25th to get those ARCs out. People are counting on it now and I promised they’ll have it. There’s some incentive!


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