Don't let this sweet face fool you

There's a trailer on TV lately for a new werewolf movie, in which Academy Award winner Anthony Hopkins informs Academy Award winner Benicio del Toro, "You've been bitten by the beast." It's our favorite thing to say to each other these days, now that Bea is settling in to grow her second set of teeth and always eager to try them out on anything or anyone she can get her mouth around.

Watching the changes in her mouth lately, I can see where moviemakers might have found their inspiration for werewolf special effects. It's amazing how fast things are happening in there, new teeth erupting like volcanoes almost every day. One day it's all cute little puppy nippers. Then one day they've fallen out and there are two big new chompers, right in the middle, with nothing but blank, bloody gums on either side. They gave her a cute little buck-toothed smile.



Within a week the holes are filled and her new grown-up teeth are so big it almost looks like she's wearing dentures. The tiny little needle-like puppy fangs are still there, though.



Until one day, they're not. I found three of them on the floor, along with two molars, and the remaining fang still hanging in there with the giant grown-up one growing in right in front of it.



It's amazing to me that it can all happen so fast – less than a month ago she still had all her original puppy teeth. And she's not nearly finished yet. Along with the 28 baby teeth that will be replaced, she'll also grow 14 more in the next couple of months for a grand total of 42 teeth. She's understandably mouthy, but not any more than you'd expect. I've been massaging her face, jaws and gums with my fingers a few times a day, which she seems to really enjoy, and I'm happy to report her bite inhibition is great – it's been weeks since she's cut either of us with her teeth, even though she's had our hands in her mouth more than ever lately.

I don't know what I'm going to do with the teeth I found. I have eight of them so far, enough for some kind of keepsake. A rattle? Jewelry? A special box with an engraved lid? Still thinking.

Summer is almost over, I think. It's felt very long and sort of timeless for me this year. I've fallen back into a rhythm of sorts, though not always a very satisfying one; I always have things to do if I can summon the energy to do them, but it's lonely to be alone at home so much of the time even if I'm busy, and still hard to find other people to do things with during the day.

Last weekend I felt like I'd turned a corner with the depression. Saturday morning I woke up feeling peaceful and rested and alive, and felt good the entire day. That lasted until Wednesday, when the anxiety started creeping in again. Today I'm up, but still very tired and a little nervous despite a long walk and yoga this morning. It felt good, though, to feel good. A reminder of what's possible, and that it really IS possible for me. I've experienced it before, and will again.

It's still been only four weeks since I started the drugs – supposedly too soon to be feeling the full effect. And I know my hormones are starting to go wonky as well, which could take up to ten years or more to resolve, according to my doctor. Grrrrreat. I feel like I'm living in a state of perpetual PMS, without even the comfort of knowing when it will be over, since my cycles are starting to go crazy too – 36 days one month, 22 days the next. I'm dealing with it OK though, I think. I guess I am. What does anyone do, really? What IS there to do, but just keep living each day as it comes? And try to find as much as possible to enjoy in every one of them?

At some point I'm going to need to find a job. I'm starting a new little very part-time gig next week managing a retail website, at a ridiculously low rate, just for something to do. I also reactivated my substitute teaching permit. Who knows, maybe I'll find out I love teaching and go back to finish my credential. Or not. This is something I'm trying not to think too much about right now, actually. It's just too stressful to look for jobs and find nothing, nothing, nothing, or to read all the doom and gloom in the news about how it's only going to be getting worse and worse and worse .... As Mr. A keeps reminding me, we are OK, we're in no danger of not being OK, and my job right now is to take care of the human needs of our family, including my own health.

Entire paragraph deleted here, documenting the long list of dreary fears that come up whenever I start letting my mind ride this train of thought. I've finally realized that writing them down only makes them feel stronger, and I no longer think it's useful to keep track of what they are, since they've been basically the same for as long as I can remember. Better to move on to something else. Or nothing. A quiet mind and a calm body.

I had another revision to my recurring dream about moving into a new house. In the most recent versions, I keep going back to houses I used to live in, and trying to move back in. Usually there's already somebody else living there and I look around feeling kind of jealous that the place seems to have improved since I left – it's usually a lot bigger and more interesting than I remembered it, but there's no place for me there and I can see it isn't mine anymore. This time I went up into the attic and found it destroyed by water. You couldn't see it from in the house, but the roof was broken and the whole structure was rotting from the inside. I started trying to convince the person who was showing me around that it could be fixed, and that I'd be happy to do the work if only I could stay. But then I stopped myself. It had been a good house once, but it was wrecked. And I thought, "I can do better than this. I don't have to live in a broken down, rotting old house."

It's the first time in any of those dreams that I can remember walking away from it by my own decision. I'm not exactly sure how this relates to the life I'm living now, or trying to live, but I feel sure that it does. When the next steps become clear, I'll take them.

Our little star

I noticed a few weeks ago that the mark on Bea's chest is an actual five-pointed white star. Pretty cool, eh?

Today I decided to chop my pill in half and split the dose between morning and night, in hopes of 1) not falling asleep in the afternoon again, and 2) being able to sleep better at night. So far, so good. It's 1 p.m. and I'm still awake, and not even all that sleepy. The weather has been helpful too – not too hot, not too cold. Right now it's 61 degrees, which to me is a perfect temperature for anything you might want to do on a beautiful sunny summer day.

I took Bea to the farmer's market this morning to pick up some hummus and baba ganoush. The guys who sell it are amazing – I don't know how they do it, but it's way better than any I've ever made myself. Plus, the plastic containers they use are sturdy and a perfect size for lunch boxes, with lids that actually stay on, so I always like to keep a few of those on hand as well now that I'm packing lunches for Mr. A (enjoying the hausfrau role for as long as it lasts). After the market we went for a long walk on the bike path, and then to a cafe for my new favorite thing, a decaf iced coffee with cream and splenda. As it turns out, she's amazingly good at cafes – lies right down under the table and waits patiently for her little bowl of water, then takes a slurp and settles in for as long as we want to sit there. Taking a walk before we sit down helps, I'm sure, but she's been just as good without one.

Overall I feel like she's turning out to be a really wonderful little dog. I was reading over what I wrote when we first brought her home and remembering how freaked out I felt the first few days – so overwhelmed that I was ready to call the shelter and tell them we were bringing her back. I'm glad we worked it out, and I've really fallen in love with her now.

This afternoon I'm doing some food-related stuff – making coleslaw, marinating steaks for later, and baking zucchini chocolate chip cookies with some of the zucchini Mr. A's co-worker keeps giving us. Both dogs are well-exercised and sleeping and I think I'm going to be able to skip my own nap today, which I hope will mean I can actually fall asleep at a decent hour tonight.

Is it weird to look forward to going to bed at night? Is it sad and pathetic that falling asleep is often the highlight of my day? I guess I don't care if it is. Sleep is one of my greatest pleasure, and getting enough good rest is one of the most important things anyone can do for their health, I truly believe.

Day 6

I've been on the meds for six days and so far all that's changed is that I have a constant mild headache and am so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open. I thought it was just my usual exhaustion until I went on the message boards this afternoon and found that almost everyone who mentioned side effects said intense drowsiness was the main one they'd experienced. Most people said it only lasts a week or two and then it lifts and they start noticing the therapeutic effect.

If I'm having side effects I guess that means the meds are starting to do something. Aside from being tired and having no interest in anything but sleeping, I'm feeling OK – about the same as usual. This time around the depression seems to be taking a more physical form than it has in the past; before, the emotional symptoms have always been the most upsetting for me. Anxiety sucks. Exhaustion sucks. Any way you look at it, this illness is no fun.

Whatever. I'm ready to start feeling better, and am glad I'm finally back on the drugs. I'm hopeful they will help.

Maybe because I've not been well, I've been missing my family a lot more than usual lately too. I haven't really told anyone about this latest round of blah blah blah; what is there to say, except that it's happening, and I'm doing my best to deal with it? I do need to keep in closer touch though. And to start planning my next visit. I'm way overdue for another shot of family time.

Other than the health stuff, things are going well. We just found out that because of the continuing state budget crisis Mr. A is back to a four-day work week, which we're both very happy about. I'm hoping they'll find a way to let people opt into keeping that schedule – it could be a great, creative way to save the state some cash and I'm sure we're not the only people who would rather have a little extra time than a little extra money.

Same as I reported last week, the house and yard are still good, yoga's good, the dogs – also good. This is what my life revolves around at present. Bea is recovered from her surgery and her belly fur is growing back. She's also teething now and will be for the next several months. Her two middle teeth on the top and bottom have grown in and they're at least three times the size of the baby teeth next to them, which gives her a funny little buck-toothed smile. I've given her a bunch of teething toys of all different textures, shapes and flavors, and so far they've been working – she hasn't chewed up anything important except the heel strap of one of my sandals, which luckily the manufacturer is going to replace for a mere eight bucks. I still don't leave her alone with full run of the place, but she's essentially house trained. Puppy school starts this weekend. She's great on walks. And we're gradually evolving some very satisfying rituals together – the after-dinner walk with the Taterman, the bedtime snack, the morning snugglefest. She's a sweet little girl and it's been a real blessing to have this time to be with her while she's still a puppy.

She does this cute thing when I'm working at the computer where she runs in through the dog door and then jumps up with her paws on the edge of my chair to announce herself – smiling up at me like she's saying, "Hey, it's me! Bea!" Her happy, enthusiastic energy is a nice counterbalance to my lethargy; between the two of us I'd say we're just about normal.

I decided not to see the ex-husband. He doesn't know how to contact me directly right now – he sent me the message through his friend's Facebook account – and I didn't want to give up my contact info to call or email him, even to say I didn't want to see him. I messaged back his friend and gave my PO box address. In my perfect world I would be infinitely flexible and forgiving, loving and gracious and grateful ... But I'm not there yet and right now I need to focus on things that make me feel well. And the thought of seeing him does not do that.

I keep having these dreams about packing up to move into a new house. There are a few different versions; they all have in common the theme of reviewing past possessions and choosing which ones to keep and which to discard, and a feeling of cautious optimism and acceptance. A feeling that I'm moving in a good direction, that everything is going to be OK.