It's the principle, dammit!

Okay, I'm trying to be responsible by taking Charlotte to the dentist every six months even though her baby teeth are just going to fall out anyway.  For the last couple of years, her check-ups have happened during summer and winter breaks, so scheduling has been no problem at all.  (My check-ups are a different story.  I cancelled one a couple of years ago because it interfered with Zumba, and I haven't been back since.  It's cool, though; I floss.)

So I got a postcard in the mail yesterday informing me that her appointment is scheduled for January 31 at 8:30.  I don't like this business of them telling me when her appointment is; it's presumptuous.  But still, it had never been a problem in the past, so I let it go.  This time it wasn't going to work for me, though, so I called to reschedule.  I'm also trying to be a responsible employee, so I tried to get an appointment after school.  I know those are like hen's teeth, so I was prepared to wait for an appointment.  What I wasn't prepared for was the dumbest policy ever.

Christmas baking (or Martha Stewart, I'm not)

It always happens this time of year: I get two weeks off and start fantasizing that I'm Miss Suzy Homemaker.  I'm not completely delusional, so I don't get any grand ideas that I'll be decorating or anything, but I always think that I'm going to make lovely, idyllic Christmas memories for Charlotte via crafts and baking.  I'm not at all crafty, so I don't know why I keep going back to that.  But I can bake--this part should be easy.  The problem is, I get far too ambitious.  My mouth is writing checks that my oven can't cash.