Come on Irene

I'm hunkered down and waiting for Irene with a full fridge, buckets and pots filled with water and a glass of low country lemonade in my hand. (I owe that recipe to a South Carolinian friend--lemonade, peach schnapps and mint. Yum!)This sums up my morning:

I found this on the Be Better Blog, and it is SO true. Liquor was purchased earlier today. Witty complaining took place. Hurricane party with urban crew started at Thistle Hill Tavern and moved on to the 12th Street bar. Discussions of french press coffee were serious. We compared shopping lists for all the necessary provisions--Roquefort cheese, prosciutto, figs, Lambrusco, and yeast for bread baking.

I love my life. I even love this hurricane.

So Come on Irene! To quote Dexy's Midnight Runners:

These people round here wear beaten down eyes
Sunk in smoke dried faces they're so resigned to what their fate is,
But not us, no not us we are far too young and clever.

Hee!

Cotton Mouth

Two whole years.

Over 730 days.

I told my ortho that it was our two year anniversary. He looked at my chart. "So it is, " he said. "Did you buy me flowers?" he asked, laughing. I made a charming remark, but what I was really thinking was, "You should be buying me flowers, Mister!" For the first time in two years, he was unhappy when he examined me. He said that since my last session there had been no movement in the back tooth he's been trying to turn 90 degrees. (He has been trying to turn it for the last six months.) His theory was that the wire had "slipped out." I knew it hadn't. I had a feeling that there was something wrong when one of his assistants did my adjustments last month. It didn't feel right, and I had terrible headaches--skull aches in fact--this past month. Another month wasted.

This would turn out to be my most dramatic session with him yet. It took him quite some time and elbow grease to force the wire into the molar tube which made me understand firsthand that song "Be a Dentist" from Little Shop of Horrors. Despite this, for the second month in a row he insisted that we are in the home stretch. I would like to believe him, but I don't see how he is going to accomplish everything he wants to accomplish in the next six months. Heck, that back tooth has only turned 45 degrees in since February...I think he upped the ante on it to make up for that lost month because it hurts tremendously, and I can feel the tooth turning. It's also affecting the tooth next to it and it all feels completely out of whack. I understand the adage that things sometimes get worse before they get better. I can't help but wonder how much worse, and for how long.

The traditional two-year anniversary gift is cotton. I want to be swathed in fine cotton sheets, thick cotton towels, even wrapped like a present in a cotton sari. I want to have softness all around me until it muffles out every instance of discomfort and leaves me as refreshed as a good night's sleep on those fine cotton sheets, and as certain as a Maharani in full regalia.

Bracedlets

When I was eight, I loved those black jelly bracelets that everyone seemed to have in the 80s. I didn't wear them up my arm as was the style, a la Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan: In fact, I only had two, one white, one magenta. (I was never a faddish girl) So one would think that happening upon bracedlets would summon a sense of nostalgia or even a smirk of whimsy. But I have to say, that I was kind of appalled. If I was 13, I'd love it. I'd revel in it. However, at 38, the thought of wearing the power chains that cause me so much pain each month for a fashion statement is akin to wearing studded belts or spike earrings. I get that those things are worn as messages, or in some cases, badges of honor that show exactly how much pain the wearer can and will endure. How much of a badass they are. But these supposedly benign bracedlets are completely misleading. I would much rather wear this:

This was designed by Lorinczi, and I love how it makes this smooth, metal showcase for that perfect toothlike pearl. I mean after all, isn't that what this process is supposed to be about? Not holding on to the painful parts, but finally creating the space for the pearls (or pearly whites) to shine? I think the spotlight might be just left of center...but it should be aligned in the right place in, oh, about six months.