the flower bed

Circumstances have forced me to re-evaluate some of the decisions I've made as well as some I've yet to make. Next week, my birthday will mark the 4 month anniversary of completing my course, and I'm no closer to finding a job than I was then. In some ways, I'm actually further behind. I spend my days watching several websites hoping for new ads and then sending off a resumé and customized cover letter to all that look in any way promising.

Still nothing.

Because of the lack of experience, my resumé focuses on my skills rather than job history. My highlights include words such as "team player" and "compassionate and caring", and "positive attitude and demeanour" (which may mean the same thing). As time goes on, I'm finding my attitude less and less positive but my compassion and caring haven't diminished. Apparently it's rather obvious, if the rate at which I get called a "bleeding heart" is any indication.

Bleeding heart. Is this supposed to be an insult? It isn't, not to me, anyway. In fact, I think it's an accurate summation of who I am. Why is this seen as such a bad thing? Are we not supposed to care about others, and help them as we can? Modern dentistry is leaning more toward prevention than restoration. 10 minutes spent teaching a patient the proper way to brush and floss their teeth does far more for their health than half an hour later drilling and filling their decayed teeth, not to mention the hours spent on a root canal and crown prep. It's a lot cheaper, too.

Why is this such an easy concept to grasp when talking about teeth, yet so difficult when discussing crime... especially young offenders?

Call me a bleeding heart all you want. I like it, it fits, and right now, it's pretty much all I have going for me.

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Someone rifled through my car sometime last night.

I went to go for a drive today, and saw that my glove box was open and there were papers all over the front seats and on the floor. The little cubby under the radio/heater was also cleared out, and my Hula Lilo was on the floor. The compartment between the seats where I keep my CDs was wide open, as was the little ash-tray thingy in one of the cup holders.

So far as I can tell, nothing is missing, and I still haven't decided if I'm relieved..... or highly insulted. The little jerk(s) even left the 8¢ in my cup holder.

To make matters worse, when I came back in the house and told a friend what had happened, I got the "you should have known better and have you at least locked the frikken doors now?" lecture.

No sympathy whatsoever.

On a happier note, we have a new little hamster. He's a fuzz-ball of a teddy bear hamster, very friendly, and loves to be out exploring in his big ball. He's a caramel colour with a lighter mask, which is the inspiration for his name - Bandit.

I hope he has a long, healthy life. [align=right][/align]

My little girl's hamster died today.

A little over 2 years ago we brought a little black bear hamster into our home. After a week of getting bit, my daughter wanted to take her back to the pet store and choose another friendlier one. Luckily we didn't, because the next morning, a week before Christmas, Koda gave birth to 7 baby hamsters. All the babies looked like little chipmunks. We decided to keep one, and Merrygold joined our family.

Both hamsters loved to be held and cuddled, as well as run around in the big ball. Merrygold was especially social - if you put your hand in her cage, she'd crawl in, expecting extra attention. They liked getting special treats, such as alfalfa sprouts and chick weed, along with the occasional apple or mango.

Merrygold had a mini-vacation at my friend's house when we went away for holidays. No-one knows exactly what happened, but somehow she broke her back. A trip to the vet showed that she had *some* feeling in her back feet, so there was a *slight* chance she *could* regain some use of her legs. As best as a child can grasp it, my daughter understood that there was hope, but realistically, Merrygold would probably never walk properly again. Regardless, she could drag herself along with her front feet, which meant she was still able to crawl into our hands for cuddles.

Within weeks, we discovered that we had a little miracle. Merrygold never regained full use of her one leg, but she could crawl, walk and climb anywhere in her cage. Running a finger along her back, you could feel a lump where she'd injured herself, and her body still "J'ed" occasionally, but she was mobile, which was a lot more than we expected.

Unlike her...

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My handsome prince is a teenager today.

It doesn't seem that long ago that my prayers were answered with the birth of my son. Right from the start he was a sweet-mannered baby who loved to cuddle. So many people like to brag about their kids - tallest, smartest, strongest, etc. My boy was average... he smiled at 3 weeks, laughed at 6 weeks... he even sat up the day he turned 6 months. At the well-baby check-ups, I usually told the nurse what his length and weight would be - he was 50th percentile for height, 25th for weight.

Even from an early age, his empathy and compassion were obvious to everyone. Shortly after his 2nd birthday, our dog got cancer and lost weight at an alarming rate. He seemed to understand our cautions that he be very gentle with Cassie - one of my favourite pictures is one I took of him sitting beside her "reading" her a story from one of his books. He was also very upset when all the other elephants shunned Dumbo, saying "he's not an elephant anymore". Every report card has mentioned his kind, caring attitude, and notes how he treats his fellow students with respect.

When he was little, he never went around something if he could climb over it or go through it. Even from a young age it was apparent that gymnastics was the sport for him. His first class was 9 years ago today - he started on his 4th birthday. He took to the various apparatus like the monkey that he is, but his favourites were vault and floor, and sometimes parallel bars. He's freakishly flexible - he can lay almost flat on his back with his arms laid out straight behind him. It looks like he's on his stomach with his head on backwards.

As he grew older, he tried his hand in various...

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I just received word from the College of Dental Surgeons (my governing body) that I passed the NDAEB! A month ago, I went out to UBC and wrote the 4 hour, 200 question exam. I finished in 2½ hours, and then drove home to wait the 4-6 weeks to hear my results. I wasn't expecting to hear this soon, with the Christmas break in the middle, so I was relieved and extremely excited to open the letter just now.

I felt good about the exam, but because it's graded on the curve (to ensure fairness from exam to exam)a lot depended on how well everyone else did... for once, it wasn't all about me.

I guess now's as good a time as any to back up a touch and explain what this exam is. It's the National Dental Assisting Examination Board exam. I graduated in the last class that didn't have to write it. Starting this year, it's a requirement. I wrote it because it will look good on my resume, and it also gives me the option of working anywhere in Canada, should I ever decide to leave the coast. The exam consists of 200 multiple choice questions, some stand-alone, others based on vignettes or photographs. A lot more than I expected were on radiology, but fortunately none were based on the various specialties (prostho, endo, ortho etc) I had a hard time knowing what exactly to study, other than "everything", so I just read through my text book and glanced over the reams of note cards I'd made for various exams. I know I made the classic error of going back and changing an answer, and wouldn't you know it, I went from the correct answer to the wrong one.

Passing this exam also gives me 18 of the 36 Continuing Education credits I need every 3 years, which is another huge bonus, and well ...

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