Discounts. Grown children. More choices. Less worry. Relaxation. Time to read a book. That's what comes with one's 50s. Right? Erupting wisdom teeth should not make that list!

This morning, I called Dr. Lee, my dentist, and we discussed a few options for dealing with this tooth. I discovered him about 10 years ago and he was/is the first dentist to EVER put me totally at ease.

There's a long history there with which I will not bore you, but believe me that's a tall order that he always has met until today. He truly has done wonders to help me overcome my fear of dental work. After he so graphically described to me my options for coping with this "wisdom" tooth from Hades, and informed me that I would have to be referred to someone else if we decide it must be extracted, I regressed.

I regressed so badly that I decided to iron. The last time I ironed for therapy was just prior to Desert Storm when my youngest son was being activated. Following the phone conversation, with low grade fever, a nagging headache and an uncomfortable jaw/neck/face, I took down all my kitchen curtains and washed, dried and ironed them.

Then I made double chocolate chip cookies (from scratch!) to eat on my good side. Only enjoyed about a half dozen with a tall glass of cold milk. A limit of six tells you how bad I felt. And milk at any temperature is not the beverage of choice when one is feverish. Never has been. Don't know why I thought it would be tonight.

Tried to watch television for a while. Could not concentrate. Checked my e-mail. Answered a note from still another reader who thinks I wrote a "fair and balanced" column about how/why Bush won the election. Go figure.

Is that what I have become? Fair and balanced? Was I always that way or did middle age bring such descriptives with it? Maybe the erupting "wisdom" tooth is bringing with it a more unprejudiced perspective.

Can't really tell if it's me or my fever that's rattling on like this. I do know that this morning, before the jaw pain became more intense and before I had that conversation with my dentist, I had an inclination to write about how spoiled we Americans are these days and how so many of us have come to expect more and more for less and less.

When did more come to mean more than less? When did it become so important that we do more, have more, be more and aspire to more and more and more? When did "less is more" fall by the way?

Attending to my kitchen curtains did strange and wonderful things for me. Taking down those curtains, and washing, drying, ironing and hanging them again helped feel "in control."

I only use valances because I love an open view of the woods, but it takes six sets to cover all the windows. And I layer them. Right now I have deep burgundy valances on top with green valances peeking out above and below.

Blows me away when folks ask me to describe my style. I mean they are usually standing in my house when they ask. I decided today, as I did my curtains, that I would be ready the next time I'm asked.

I will say I am eclectically rural American bent toward English cottage, French and Italian country, with a welcome sprinkling of John Deere influence thrown in.

Why do you suppose that is? Why do you suppose we are expected to have, to be, or to enjoy certain styles? Adopt certain labels? Fit specific descriptions? Do you ever long to just be? Do you ever want to say "I am who I am" and be done with it?

Don't know if it's the fever talking or my new found "wisdom" seeking to erupt. Don't know what tomorrow holds, or how I might describe myself when it comes, but for now I'm enjoying where my thoughts are taking me.