We’re headed to my in-law’s house to celebrate Thanksgiving. Matt wants to go tonight, I want to go Thursday morning. I have several reasons for this. First, I don’t sleep well to begin with, and spending two nights anywhere but home a 4-5 star hotel room is an inconvenience for me (we go camping or cabining once a year with friends, and it never fails to be a challenge for me – I do it for Matt and the kids). I just don’t like being out of my own house unless I’ve got access to really cool luxury I don’t have at home. Second, Gillian and I are both very allergic to dust mites and mold/mildew, and she and I inevitably get stuffed up due to the proximity to the beach, which is likely to lead to yet another sinus infection for me and sneezy attacks for Gillian. Third, I want to sleep in my bed. Fourth, I have trouble being sociable for extended periods of time, and there’s nowhere to escape to. Fifth, I have to watch what I say at all times, because they don’t enjoy deep conversation, it makes them uncomfortable. This being what feeds my soul, it drains me to be mindful of what I’m asking and answering when around them.  When it comes down to it, I’m a reclusive homebody. It’s a fact I’m coming to terms with.

Even the question “How are you?” becomes a quandry. Are they asking to be polite, and want a pat answer, or do they want to sit down with me and hear about what’s really going on? The last time we were there, and I was asked by Matt’s aunt, I actually stopped and said “Do you want me to say, “Great, how are you”, or do you want to know the truth?” The long blink and pause was interesting. I’m at the point in my life where I can be taken out in public and know how to act in formal social situations, but these are my in-laws. Sometimes I feel like we come from completely different cultures. I guess we do.

That being said, I love the fact that Matt’s family spends time together, although quantity sometimes seems more important than quality. The longer we stay, the happier my mom-in-law is, which is in direct opposition to my nature. There’s no question, however, that they are an extremely close family, and I’ve tried to learn and implement that into our own immediate family. I myself do enjoy spending time with them, they’re lovely people, and our kids spend a whole lot of time with Matt’s brother’s kids. They’ll have memories of growing up with their cousins that I never had, and wish I did.

Having family together often is a very different experience from my own. I haven’t seen my mothers’ sister or my grandmother since Aidan was 1 (he’s now 11). As a matter of fact, most people who know me well don’t even know that I have a brother. It’s not that I don’t love him, it’s just that we have very little in common and he doesn’t come up in conversation often. I think the age difference (5 years) and our parents not raising us to be close has something to do with it as well. But that’s a story for another day. Let it just be said that our extended family isn’t very close, and I wasn’t raised in an environment surrounded by aunts, uncles and cousins. Our children see my brother’s children less than once a year, and they live closer to us than Matt’s family.

Anyway, formal holidays are a foregone conclusion with Matt’s family, and I’m okay with that. I’m making my mom’s pecan pie recipe which I haven’t had since I was a kid, and picking up a pumpkin and apple pie to bring. I feel a bit dichotomized about this holiday, since it led to us wiping out the indiginous population of American Indians and relegating the few who were left to reservations, but I’m glad it gives us an opportunity to be thankful for the things that we do have. I wish we would celebrate that aspect of this holiday on a daily basis, in our every-day lives.

It’s food for thought (no pun intended).

Interestingly enough, I’ve been working on a series of posts, or at least mulling them over for some time as part of an ongoing project in my spiral of Athame’s Edge.  Today’s post in Doran’s Path named “Sad Truths” prompted me to come back to this, and put more thought into it.

Here’s a quote from her post today, taken partly out of context:
“I guess the hard part is figuring out how to make it easier to choose to do right than to choose to do wrong. And I guess that’s why we have psychology, sociology, anthropology, etc. To figure out why people do bad things, why they do good things, and how we can help them choose the latter.”

The Golden Rule, who’s sister is the Maxim of Return in our Eclectic, Progressive tradition: Do unto others as you would have done to you. Such a simple, brilliant concept, that is a basic tenet in so many theologies and theosopies. An easy way to take a simple, succinct step onto the road toward evolution as a person.

But it seems that most people aren’t aware that they *can* change, or *can* evolve, or even have choices in what happens to them in their lives. Many people perceive themselves as victims instead of taking responsibility for their lives and actions. Some religions don’t encourage their members to grow and evolve as individuals, because the process of knowing oneself and questioning choice raises questions, which may be frowned upon if blind faith is the basis of the religion. Some people simply lack the intellectual capacity to grasp the concepts of choice, growth, change, and evolution.

My belief in reincarnation is my own personal impetus for creating positive change in my life. Although I would certainly never refer to myself a pious person, I believe that the obstacles I can overcome in this life (that I CHOSE to handle in this life), will be lesser issues in future lives. By handling my own issues, becoming a better and more stable person, and making positive choices, I improve myself, allowing evolution to occur. This, in turn, has an effect on the people around me, and therefore the work I do on myself (hopefully) creates positive change in the people I encounter.

I’m planning on writing a short series here on positive change, and will be fleshing out my thoughts compartmentalized in the aspects of myself, my family, my community, my religion, and the world. Oddly enough, these posts have been sitting in my drafts folder. Thank you, Doran, for giving me the nudge that I needed to begin putting more thought into this area of my growth.

We got an email from the Girl Scout parent who’s in charge of cookies for our troop (AKA our “Cookie Mom”). She mentioned what a shame it was that we’d sold over 1,000 boxes of cookies as a troop, and that if we’d sold 16 boxes more, our troop would be raised to the next level of commission, taking in another $0.05 per box. Oh well, she said, maybe next year, and I wish we had thought of it earlier…

16 boxes may not sound like a lot, but vaulting us into the next level will net us between $60 and $70 directly into our troop’s account, which of course will go toward their trip at the end of the year.

Of course my response was “Can we get 16 more boxes to sell?” I called our council, and picked up the boxes. It took us a day to get rid of them… Since you can only get them once a year per area, many people eat their cookies and mourn for more. It was a matter of making a few phone calls with…”I think I can get my hands on another few boxes…do you want a few?” Matt did the same at work, and voila! Gillian’s total is now 317 boxes, and our troop brought in a considerable amount more money than they would have otherwise.

I don’t know if I’m a fool, or I love a challenge. Either way, the kids benefited, so it was worth the extra push.

Now we’ve got the nut and nmagazine drive coming up in January. Last year I was so burnt out that I didn’t even open the packet. I’m going to try to encourage the troop to push a bit more this year, but the cookie sale is really the major source of income for the troop.

I know it seems like a lot, but the cookies really sell themselves, and most of the girls don’t push themselves or set their goals astronomically high the way Gillian has. The good part is, the girls learn a lot about the value of money and the way it works,  about working toward rewards (they really love the trip to the destination that they choose at the end of the year), setting and meeting goals, and also the self-esteem they gain from the experience.

We’ve got a year to recharge our batteries and get ready for the next big push. It’s a bit like labor, you forget the pain as time passes:)

When I was in my formative years - from the time I was a baby until I was well into my teens – I was under the care of a local dentist, the same dentist my Mom used.

Now, my Mom is famous for meticulously researching and finding the best of the best doctors in the New York metropolitan area… I trust her advice implicitly on these things. Of course, when I was a child, I didn’t have much of a choice. Perhaps this experience is what made her so careful about the doctors she chooses now….

This doctor was local to us, and his family were acquaintances of ours. I suppose when he told her that I was born with no enamel on my teeth, and filled 16 cavities that I didn’t have, she didn’t have reason to ask for a second opinion. She also had her own mouth ripped apart by this man, paying him for thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of dental work, leaving her with a hole in her mouth that went from the place where her tooth was pulled up into the sinus cavity in her nose.

Because I had checkups every 6 months, and because there were always cavities, no matter how well I took care of my teeth, going to the dentist became a focus of anxiety for me. The ‘pirate booty box’ which held  penny toys as a reward for being such a good patient was not worth the thick Novocaine-filled needles, the sound of the drill, and even the distinctive smell of a dentists office.

Once I moved down to Texas from New Jersey, and had no medical coverage of my own, it was almost a relief that I couldn’t see a dentist unless I had throbbing pain in my jaw, which only happened twice, leading to necessary root canals performed by dentists in Texas.  There’s no question that if I’d been getting checked up every 6 months these things might have been avoided, but in between the lack of money and the fear, it took excruciating pain to get me into that chair.

At about this time, I was told by my mother that our dentist had committed suicide. I can’t speculate as to the reasons for his actions, and I don’t really care. I am, however, happy that he’s not around to hurt anyone else.

Once I was married and Matt had good medical and dental coverage, I eventually began to sporadically visit for cleanings, and worked myself into a regular schedule. Funny, but of all the phobias I deal with – most of which are manageable and minor – flying and dentistry are the worst. I can handle flying simply because I take an air-sickness pill (which makes me drowsy) plus an anti-anxiety med (which, on top of the other, knocks me out for the duration of the flight). I’ve never had the pilot turn the plane around or caused a scene (although I personally know people who have), because I’ve learned how to handle the irrational fear. Going to the dentist is definitely worse…my fear is based in the reality of my past experiences. Each time I’ve gone – especially when I needed a cap or work done at the back of my mouth where they had to prop my mouth open with a wedge for extended periods of time - I’ve told Matt that I felt as though my mouth was raped. I know this sounds extreme and dramatic, but it hearkens back to more than bad dental experiences, and has reinforced my avoidance of regular dental upkeep.

I’ve not let my kids know my fear of the dentist, and take them for their regular visits. Even though my anxiety level raises the moment I smell that *dentist smell*, they have no problems going, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.

Despite brushing and flossing, my gums are beginning to recede, and the dentin is becoming exposed. There are times when even flossing will ‘ping’ on what feels like a nerve, and it hurts. A lot. I’m using Sensodyne, and have ACT, and since my last dentist visit a Sonicare toothbrush. I put off this last visit for 6 months because of the sensitivity. Utilizing my breathing techniques as well as medicating myself according to the doctors’ advice for the visit, I got through my appointmet with a minimum of pain. They have a Novocaine gel which they put on my sensitive spots before they even start the cleaning, and are extremely patient, gentle and understanding with me. I’m really proud of my making myself go. I’m hoping that the more positive experiences I have will eventually help the echoes of my childhood fear fade. In the meantime, I went. I need to pat myself on the back for the small things, because I know they add up to considerable positive reinforcement.

And I don’t have any cavities!!

I got tagged by Angela on http://aneclecticpagan.wordpress.com -  It just took me a while to figure out what it meant that I’d been tagged:) I feel it’s my responsibility to forward this and have some fun.

Here are the rules:
Link to the person or persons who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write 6 random things about yourself
Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them.
Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
Let the tagger know when your entry is up

And now, six random things about me:

I have debates with myself out loud all the time. I’ve been very grateful since the invention of the cell phone. I can pretend I’m talking on my Bluetooth when I get caught.

I sing in the car. Loud. I also pretend that I’m talking on the Bluetooth when I get caught.

I’m on more controlled substances now than I was when I was using street drugs (almost 19 years ago), but none of them get me high *sigh*

I eat the same foods compulsively until I one day lose my desire for them, and then rarely eat them again.

I am annoyed by whiny children and the sound of chewing.

I met my husband on a MUSH (multi-user shared hallucination), a text-based roll-playing game, long before internet dating existed – almost 16 years ago. He told me he loved me before ever seeing my face.

I’m tagging:
Mrs. B at Confessions of a Soccer Mom
Juniper at Wiccamoms
Luna at Vowels and Consonants
Alison at Cakelet
Tara at Tara the Pixie
Sage Moonstone at Whimsical Witch