If you noticed, last week, I didn't have my normal newsletter. In a nutshell, it's been a trying couple of weeks.

First, I broke my tooth. I had a root canal done on it previously, and the crown came off. Me- in my infinite wisdom, thought, I'll fix it when I can afford it. That was a few months ago. 

<Insert dramatic sigh here.>

So on the 16th, I've got my economy size bottle of Tic-Tacs, enjoying the tiny fruity goodness, and all of a sudden they're extra crunchy.

The build up of my tooth had broken. 

<Insert groan here.>

It's late. I can't call the dentist until the next morning. The lovely woman who answered the phone set me up with an appointment the next day.

I be-bop into the dentist's office thinking I've got a stupid tax to pay, but it won't be that bad. After all, I still have my crown.

Not so. I have a small tooth and there's a chance if they just build it back up, an infection will get into it. Stupid tax is hitting me like a truck at this point. I now have an appointment with an endodontist on Friday. Oh, joy. <--That's my thrilled face.

Now, we have arrived at Thursday. 

I learned long ago to never ask if things can get worse because it is inevitable that they can. 

Try a Texas-sized stomach bug. I was pretty confident I had the plague at one point. No, it wasn't that serious, but it sure felt like it.

Am I going to the endodontist? No, because it would be rude to give these nice people whatever it was I had. I rebooked the appointment for Monday at 8:45 a.m.

They call later and ask if they can reschedule it for seven. As in the morning. I agree, but I'm thinking, wow, a root canal at seven in the morning.

Again, I'm not challenging the universe with "can it get worse," but it was like it read my mind. Yes. Yes, it could worse. They had to make room for the crown.

I'll spare you the gory details, but needless to say, it wasn't a walk through the roses.

This is when I call the other dentist and let them know that the root canal is done and I can now come in to get my crown fitted. I set the appointment for the next day. At this point, I just want to be able to eat while I'm at my conference. 

I mean, I'm in Kansas City.  I think it's against the law not to eat meat slathered in sauce. Plus, I want the barbecue.  

Okay, this is a long story. I hope you've made it this far. 

The cherry on top of this two-week sundae? Finding out I'm wearing my shirt backwards while sitting in a room full of people. 

This is my life, people. This is my life!
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And all that to say, even when everything is going haywire, I'm still okay. My joy doesn't have to be dependent on the situation. I can choose it. I may have to white-knuckle-grip to keep it, but I choose it.

Guess who's story is coming in January? Mason's!

You're probably wondering why it took so long for the poor guy to find his happily ever after.

Well, let's just say suspense is hard for me. That's the truth.

What else happened this week? I became the proud owner of a pinball machine named Gulfstream. It's sitting in my miniscule living room like a big, fat, sore thumb. I do love playing it though. I've been extra careful around it. Stubbing a toe on that bad boy would hurt!

All that sounds so upbeat, but this week hasn't been that way. I struggle with worth. That's why most of my books deal with that subject. Mostly, I'm preaching to myself. It's hard sometimes though. Failure is so arbitrary. What one person sees as success another sees as something completely different. It's amazing how fingerprints can be an outward reminder that everyone is unique.