Things to do while trying to think of something about which to write for updating this blog:
- 1. Flossing teeth correctly, as demonstrated by my new dental hygienist: going in between each tooth, sawing back and forth, in and out at the gumline before working the floss up and out, continuing then in between the next tooth. It’s important for preventing tarter buildup and tooth decay.
2. Cleaning both monitors in front of me to remove little splatters of food, expelled by flossing.
3. Fixing a martini to help the creative juices to flow.
4. Removing a stray strand of mint-flavored dental floss that somehow found its way inside my drink, entangling the olives. I’m a three-olive martini man, by the way.
5. Remembering about Pappy from the old Popeye cartoons, or maybe it was Gramps from Felix the Cat who had a thinking cap: a graduate’s square cap with a lightbulb attached on top to its center. When the cap was worn on whomever’s head, the bulb would illuminate, blink and beep whenever a profound revelation came about. That’s what writers need: a thinking cap, something to jump-start their train of thought.
A few updates ago, I mentioned a cracked tooth from eating an almond, a result of the weight-loss program mentioned also in previous tirades. My dentist, Dr. Sidney Freedman—like the psychiatrist on M*A*S*H who said, “Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice: pull down your pants and slide on the ice”—fixed the rear molar, saving it and me from excruciating pain. The good dentist is not quite as radical as his namesake that’s not his real name, although he’s really a funny guy. I’ve been going back since to have my mouth straightened away, suffering from neglect during the past, few years; leading to a necessary root-canal procedure performed on Tuesday.
“How about those Eagles?” he said to me while drilling on my right canine, in the process of removing its nerve.
“Mmmmmphhhhhphphphhh,” I replied.
“I didn’t understand what you said. Mind saying that again?” The burr on his drill must have been the coarsest one, as my whole skull was vibrating.
“Yeah, I think they stand a chance this year to go all the way, too,” he said.
How did he know that’s what I was saying? It must be from his many years of practical joking.
The root-canal was a success, painless and amusing at times. The worst part was the local anesthetic, numbing the whole right side of my mouth and nasal passage, causing my lips to drool and my nose to drip. One the way home, I stopped at the local Acme. The cashier at the food market looked at me funny as I loaded the groceries to be checked out, evidently due to a few drops of mucus which landed on the conveyor. Luckily for me I brought along a handkerchief, remembering my prior episodes with the procedure, and wiping away my embarrassment, explaining about having just had a root canal and the resultant numbness of my mouth. She continued to look at me funny.
Directly after my last rotor-rooter, I had a dinner date that really turned ugly. Soup poured out from the side of my mouth, fortunately back into the bowl; so all was not lost. My companion was understanding. She couldn’t stop laughing. I’m glad she enjoyed it.
Tuesday’s was my fourth root canal and hopefully my last, as I plan now on taking care of my teeth henceforth. Lots more work needs to be done, albeit, offering excellent fodder yet to be lampooned.
For the record, this morning’s weigh-in on the scale put me at a nineteen-pound weight loss with one more to go for my goal, and before I pig out moderately in celebration.