And You Wonder Why I Never Leave the Homestead

I think we’ve well established that I’m pretty content to stay right here – safe and secure on our little homestead. I know that many of you have teased me about rarely leaving our little slice of heaven. I would go so far as to say a few of you have actually mocked me about that little fact. I can take it. But I offer you the following as a prime example of why I insist on being such a hermit.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. Naturally, I can’t have just a typical dental issue. I have to have a well-we-occasionally-see-this-but-it’s-extremely-rare type of dental issue. Without all the painstakingly long details, suffice it to say I had a cracked tooth that required a root canal – that went bad after a year and a half because I was born with a freaking fin on my root. Yes, a FIN. And I drove 70 miles to see a specialist and learn about it. Until yesterday, I had never even heard of a fin. Apparently the specialist I went to had heard of a fin, but he assured me they are very rare. Most people have fins when they are born and they close up and heal during adolescence. Do I need to tell you how much comfort I did not take in knowing it is rare and that my mouth can’t be normal? I couldn’t care less if only one person or every other person on the planet has a fin that causes trouble. I have a fin and MY fin is causing me trouble. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s really all that matters to me and all that should matter to my specialist. At any rate, he informed me of my fin and scheduled my surgery for next week. I should have stayed at home.

But I didn’t stay at home. I drove 70 miles to see my dear specialist. When I left his office the sky was blue and the sun was beating down upon me. It was lovely. I felt God was shining his approval on me that we had discovered my fin and made plans to rectify what He kind of forgot to take care of when I was born. Life was wonderful. 12 miles later, I was in a total white out from a blizzard. Seriously, it was awful. So awful that about two miles later all traffic came to a dead stop on the interstate. I figured some one spun out on the slick road and we would get moving within minutes. After about 20 minutes, I shut the car off. After about an hour I turned it back on to warm up and listen to the news. It seems there was a twenty to twenty five car pile up just ahead of me. They had shut down the interstate. I shut the car off and cried for a few minutes. I called Bernie, who was totally sympathetic, and informed me he was busy starting a nice fire in the fire place. I hung up and cried for a few minutes more. I did take the time to recognize that there were at least 20 – 25 people having a worse day than I, and I said a quick prayer for each of them and their safety. And then I cried a little more.

Long story short (I know, I know – too late!) after just over two hours, traffic started to move. We were diverted to an exit ramp and then back on the entrance ramp. I could see an 18 wheeler perched precariously over the via duct and several cars scattered here and there. I am thankful that it appeared most were just banged up a bit. I really do pray everyone involved is OK.

I finally made it back to the homestead, where Bernie and a nice glowing fire awaited me. There really is a reason I don’t like to leave here. Anytime I leave it seems people don’t want to let me come back.

I made some nice Sea Salt Bars last weekend. Pure Coconut Oil, Shea Butter, and Sea Salt. Feast your eyes on these lovely puppies:


Now wouldn’t you rather have me here on the Homestead cranking out bath stuff, that fighting traffic and discussing about fins with a dentist?

Bee Free,

2 Responses to “And You Wonder Why I Never Leave the Homestead”

  1. Darrell says:

    Those beauitful bath bars and the pict and frankly the writing and entire website just confirm my long-held suspicion that coding is truly just a new medium of art.

    Glad you are back home safe, but you were mum to if you had the appointment you were going to and how your “fin” is doing.

  2. says:

    Well,you of all people know I have always considered my coding a true work of art 😉 I do believe you are the only one that ever truly appreciated it – or at least had the sense to pretend you did!

    My fin is as good as it can be, being as it’s not even supposed to exist! And now that I’ve released that tidbit into the blogoshere, all my blogger buddies are writing to accuse me of being half fish. I guess that’s better than what I’m usually accused of being 8-|

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