Pictures from Monte-Jello

J wasn't supposed to touch the flowers, but he REALLY wanted to smell them. I held his arms like an airplane while he leaned forward and smelled each color.
Peg, J, and Uni-May (pictured on-board in Peg's belly) in front of Monticello.
J had a ton of fun at the hotel. He stood in front of the mirror and threw "Yellow Blanket" and "Blue Puppy" up over and over.
Peg says, "Yeah, we're not so creative with the names of things. We're missing the 'King' gene for that."

*Of note, Peg arrived driving Chris' car, Slim Shady... which I named.
This little man can go forever! He was so much fun to spend time with... and Peg's not bad either. I can't wait until Uni-May is born and I get to make a trip to the 'Burgh to see them again!!! Maybe by then Chris will be out of the shower.

Taxes- Done.
5 day exercise routine- Done.
Work week- not really done (especially since I'm working Saturday).
Laundry- I'm getting there.

But there are new pictures posted... that may be the biggest accomplishment.

You're telling me!

Tonight at the gym I had just finished my cardio routine and moved on to some weight training when a woman and her son came in. I've seen the woman the last few nights and we've chatted a little. Her son is about 8 and moderately overweight. He got on the treadmill and started jogging.

Him: Look Mom! 49 calories! I think I need to drink more water. I heard that drinking more water helps cut calories, or something like that.

Mom: Yep, it's good for you.

(Kid goes on to jog for about 5 minutes)

Me: Hey, you're doing great! You can run longer than I can.

Kid: You're telling me sister! I'm working hard over here!

I almost peed myself.

I promise, eventually I will get pictures posted on here. For now, you'll have to do with knowing this...

J is an incredibly bright and friendly child (he's almost 2 1/2, in case you were wondering.) Peggy had told him that I was coming. When I got out of my car in the parking lot, J came running up to me, let me pick him up and hug and smooch on him, and said "Sthtiffany (there's no way to spell how he sounds), you're here!" He was able to tell me about the cousins they had been visiting the day before, and talked endlessly about a variety of topics... trains, the cross-rail in the parking garage, that his dad was probably home taking a shower. Seriously, this kid is non-stop!

J was a fantastic, fantastic boy on our trip. He was well-behaved (mostly), charming (always) and downright funny. He ran and ran and ran, played with his shadow, danced, and jumped his way into everyone's hearts. He was so quiet during the tour of Mote-Jello (his pronunciation, though he was disappointed we weren't really going to a house of jello) that our tour guide high-fived him. The only noise he made was to whisper "I'm being very quiet!"

While we were at the downtown mall in Charlottesville, he danced and danced. There was a little girl dancing all ballerina-style, complete with frilly turns and pirouettes (which, may in fact, be a frilly turn) and J was honor-bound to join her. He ran and jumped and wiggled. I looked at Peg and said "That little girl is a ballerina, and your kid is totally mosh-pit." We laughed because it was so true. Later, he walked up to a group of pre-teen girls yelling "STOP! STOP! STOP!!!!!" They did. Then he says, "DANCE!!!!" and tried to get them started up. Unfortunately, they took a pass. But that didn't stop J from busting a move again!

Okay, now I have to do dishes and go to bed. I'm tired!

PS... Matty, I was riding horses on Sunday. I have a fantastic burn to show for it. Stupid sun.

Coming soon to a blog near you...

The report from my visit with Peggy and J in Charlottesville. But it's a beautiful spring day, so first I must go riding.

Back soon!

PS...

My Dansko Idol winners arrived while I was in Vegas. Again, I heart Dansko. Plum suede... awesome. Sandals... incredible. A t-shirt, coffee cup (that fits my hand as well as my shoes fit my feet... how do they do it?), a bag, and a handfull of pens. I'm a selfish Dansko-horder. I kept it all but the pens, which I shared with my coworkers.

The weird thing? The box was open. The bottom had been slit open... on purpose. It hadn't been torn open in transit, the box itself wasn't damaged, the tape was cut. It sat in the complex office until I picked it up on Monday. Only one person works there, and I don't believe she would have opened it. That means that the UPS guy picked up an open box, carried it into the office and put it down. What are the chances he didn't notice it was open? Very weird indeed. I think someone wanted to take a peek at my Dansko goods. Good thing they didn't steal my sweet, sweet shoes. I would have given someone the beat down they so rightly deserved. Seriously.

Three posts in one night. Can you handle it?

Springing

I love autumn. The crunch of the leaves, cool nights and warm days, the smell of it... really, everything. It's the best season. It's my best season. I don't love summer. Summer is too hot. I hate hot.

I used to think that I loved winter second best. I do love the cold weather, the snow, the clothes. It's a great season. But I'm thinking it's not good for me. Winter may be a great season, but I'm not sure it's my great season. It feeds my lazy streak. It's dark? Don't go to the gym. It's cold? Best to snuggle down under a quilt and blog. It's rainy/sleety/snowy? Why not just watch TV. You were going to read before bed? Why not just to go bed... it's been dark for hours anyway. No plans? Make brownies. Feeling blue and lonely? Warm yourself up with a glass or three of wine. Truth be told, I haven't had a really great winter (for various reasons) in a while. I think winter isn't my great season.

Spring is here. The sun is out longer. The weather is warmer. Flowers are popping out everywhere. Trees are budding. Birds are chirping. Frogs are ribbit-ing. I am springing.

I've added running back to the workout. It's going slowly, but it's going. I know, go ahead and laugh. The girl who doesn't run unless being chased is running... without being chased. I run on the treadmill. Why? A) It's safer for the fankle. Running is dangerous. B) If I stop running while on the treadmill, I get thrown off... if I stop on the street, I'm just walking... or waiting for the bus. C) I can see how fast I'm going... or not going, as the case may be.

Today, I added 5 more of everything for my patient. I found myself chanting "Five.More.For.B." as I cranked out the last five reps of each exercise. The ones I didn't want to do. The ones I didn't think I could do. I may inspire some of my patients, but almost all of them inspire me. Especially this one.

Some day, I hope I learn to chant "Five.More.For.Me." and mean it.

St. Patty's pics

How to celebrate St. Patty's Day...

1) Wear funny hats.

2) Drink an Irish Car Bomb


3) Sleep on Couch. (pssst, by the way, that's Jeff and Megan)
Quote of the night:

Megan looks up and says "I wonder if they do Irish Car Bombs (you know, the drink) in Ireland. It seems in poor taste. I wonder if they have a similarly disparaging drink about us... like the American Train Wreck."

One of those days

Since the space my office is located in was converted to make it suitable for a rehab clinic, there had to be some, ummm, creative adjustments to meet code. One of the things we have to have is a patient call-bell in the bathroom, in case of emergency... like the patient can't get off the toilet, has a "Help, I've fallen, and I can't get up" moment, etc. Our "call bell" system is a remote doorbell. No kidding.

The doorbell sings a little tune instead of the normal horrendous call-bell noise that is in the hospital. Ours goes off at random intervals... since I've been there it's only been used purposely once (that I know of). We joke that it goes off when a cell phone rings, someone with an iPod drives by, etc, etc. It's my favorite joke to say "Every time that doorbell rings, a therapist gets her wings!" Then I struggle in vain to see if wings have sprouted on my back, only to act shocked and mortified that it wasn't me that was getting them.

Today, though, I think I got 'em.

I have a fabulous 14 year old patient. He'd been drug all around the area, from Charlottesville to Richmond to D.C. trying to find help. Poor kid had spent almost 2 years in a wheelchair trying to recover from all of the surgeries that were done before he was accurately diagnosed. He spent his first few weeks with us not really believing that he was capable of getting any better... yet he was making gains. Before long, he was telling us that he could start to see some changes... then he picked up a baseball bat for the first time in 3 years... now he's pushing himself like crazy. I frockin' love this kid.

Today was the first day I treated him since I went on vacation. This kid is kicking ass! He's laughing and joking, taking responsibility for pushing himself... just in general doing great. I asked him how he was doing so much better in just over a week.

Kid: I'm doing what you said. You said to go to the gym (he goes to the Y with his dad) and do as much as I think I can, then do 5 more. That's what I do, even if I don't think I can. I still try just like you said. (Of note, I have no recollection of actually saying that, but it sounds like something I would have told him.)

See this chick get all choked up on the inside while high-fiving that kid and telling him he's bad-ass (and not to tell his dad I just said that.) I felt my wings sprout.

Fast forward about 30 minutes... I'm making fun of another patient (who was gone, by the way) who was grunting and groaning so hard while doing his (pathetic little) exercises (then looking around to see if anyone was noticing how hard he was working) that I looked at Paper Boy and said "Dude, if he turns into the Hulk, I'm out of here." I'm re-enacting the scene for Mini-Me, complete with grunting sounds, facial expressions, body contortions, etc... and I ripped a musical fart that my bro would have envied... right in front of Mini-Me and Paper Boy.

And just like that, god had taken my wings back.

More fun from the va-cay!

Late night work on the brackets. Wacky and Goose take this very seriously. They look at stats, talk about the season, compare point guards. I ask questions like "What's their mascot?"

Did I mention I saw the Grand Canyon? Pretty damn grand, in my opinion. I could have sat like this for hours... in fact, I think I did.
Then it was back to the hotel for pizza and basketball. These two... they kill me! But in about 30 seconds, I was hooked, and actively harassing them about my far superior bracket-winning skills... at least in the first round.

I bet the jackass that knocked golfballs into the Grand Canyon drove this. Plus 1000 vonus points to me for flipping off a Hummer at a National Park.
(Not, by the way, that my legs are PALER than my capris. I'm practically albino.)

I hope he drives in reverse over those spikes.

Jackass...

and not in a good way.

What happens in Vegas...

stays in Vegas. Except for what I post on the blog. Oh, there are stories, my pretties, and I shall tell them. Just give me time. Until then, have fun watching the shenanigans that occurred just prior to me climbing aboard a northeast bound plane... funnier, because it was Northwest. And I thought I was drunk.

One step short of adult diapers...

Happy St. Patty's Day!!!

I'm in Greensboro, safe and sound with Meg and Jeff. After a long day in Vegas (story soon... after I can load the pictures), followed by a long night of flying, I had a drive-by pick up at the airport, lunch at Village Tavern, a shower, and a 4 hour nap. Mmmmmmmmmm, much better.

Meg made crawfish etouffe for dinner, which has been washed down with a healthy dose of wine (for me), and Guinness and Irish Car Bombs (for Meg and Jeff.) We're sitting around watching basketball... me in my jammies with no makeup and no hair products in use, Jeff and Meg are on the couch, Jeff in a festive leprechaun hat drinking Irish whiskey, Meg half asleep. I swear, Meg just said "If we had adult diapers, we wouldn't have to get up again. We could just lay here all night."

Yea, it turns out that the girl who goes to bed by midnight in Vegas, is just as much fun on St. Patty's Day.

We're just waiting for the cops to bust this party up now!

A day of ups and downs...

Today was full of ups and downs...

Ups:

• Hiking at the Grand Canyon
• Seeing Big Horn Sheep (less than 10 ft away) at the Grand Canyon
• Watching the first round of the NCAA tournament
• Duke losing
• Not being in last place in the pool
• Seeing the sun set at the Grand Canyon
• Meeting a cool guy from Sidney, NE (just down the road from Alliance, home of carhenge) at dinner.
• Mitzi's name in the betting pool being "8 pound, 6 ounce tiny baby Jesus"... god bless Talladega Nights, the Ballad of Ricky Bobby

Downs:

• Some of my teams in the NCAA tournament losing
• Watching Mitzi physically deflate when the guy at dinner mentioned his wife (she was harboring hope that I would have a built-in man-interest when I got there... but weren't we all?)
• Watching some asshole guy and his kids knock golf balls into the Grand Canyon... oh, never mind that it's illegal, or that there are animals living there, or that there are people camping down there, or that you're a giant asshole for hitting golf balls into the Canyon. I'm only amazed that Wacky, Mitzi and I aren't in jail for throwing them all over the edge. You're ruining my sunset, asshole!!!

We're headed back to Vegas at 5:30am. Since I'm the early riser of the group, I'll be taking the sunrise leg of the drive. Good thing we can brew coffee in the room!

This is probably my last post until I get to NC on Saturday... you'd better all have your fingers crossed that I win big with my last $2 of betting money so you all get steak dinners!

Happy Tournament Day!

Goose and Wacky are insane NCAA basketball fans. We're talking C-R-A-Z-Y!!!! They convinced me to join their tournament betting pool, even though I have no clue about any of the teams.

In the car on the way to the Grand Canyon, Goose made me my own bracket. Since I have no idea who may or may not win, I used the following criteria to make my picks:

• color of uniforms
• aesthetics of uniforms
• hotness of players
• hotness of coach
• whether or not I knew anyone who had actually graduated from that school. (Go Winthrop and Michigan State!)
• in the event of a tie, they told me a little bit about each team's style of play and record, and I factored that in to the decision.

So far, I'm 1:1. I will laugh my ass off if I beat them.

Grand Canyon

I have been to the Grand Canyon. I don't even know what to say about it. I hope the pictures turn out half as incredible as it was in real life.

Quotes of the day:

• On Monday night, the Stardust Casino, a Vegas Strip original from the Bugsy Segal days, was imploded. We were awoken by the fireworks that were set off in honor of the end of a legend. We talked about it briefly, then dismissed it, since I once ate at the buffet there (again, thanks P) but no one else has ever been. Today, as we're driving away from Las Vegas... Wacky says, " I miss the Stardust."

• TK has seen the Grand Canyon from the car window. Wacky stops the car. TK tries (violently) to get out of the car as quickly as possible to get to the edge of the Canyon to see it all. TK realizes that she still has her seat belt on. Wacky says "Hey Mitz, I'm going to pop the trunk, you get TK's helmet out."

Plus 10 to Wacky. Seriously.

At 4am, there's someone knocking strongly on the door. I crawl out of bed and look out the peep hole. Hotel security. I crack the door to find 3 security guards standing there. Now, please remember that the lights are off, we're all sleeping, and there was not a peep coming from the room.

SG1 (security guard 1): You folks having a little party in there? (SG1 is very gruff and not nice at all)
Me: No, we're sleeping. (blink, blink, rubs eyes and attempts to calm down muppet hair)
SG1: You sure?
Me: Yes.
SG1: I need to look on your porch. You've been throwing bottles on the deck next door.
(There is a little deck that overlooks the Harrah's pool next door.)
Me: What?
(at this point, SG2 realizes that, indeed, we were sleeping and not whoever was having the party, and starts the "good cop" routine to SG1's "bad cop")

SG2: Someone's throwing bottles over onto the pool deck next door. We tried locating which room it was from outside, but obviously we miscounted. Could we look off of your deck?
SG1: Yeah, maybe I can see them from here.
Me: Sure. Goose, Wack, cover up, they're coming in!

(SG1 comes in and looks over the balcony just in time to see the guy exactly 3 floors below us hurl a bottle off the balcony.)

SG1: I've got him! Let's go! (is hustling back toward the door ready to go give someone the beatdown he so rightly deserves.)
SG2 apologizes about a million times for disturbing us.

As soon as they left, we start busting out with all of the stuff we should have said, like "Wacky, I told you to quit shaking your wang out on the porch." Then Wack says "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and now my wang has to stay in Vegas." Mitzi says, "They could have been strippers. You would have let them in, then the music would have started and they'd strip down." So many better things could have happened than being accused of throwing bottles from the deck. We almost went down to the 10th floor just to see the guy get a beating from angry SG1.

We should have done that.

Give me my money!

TK has paid Vegas: $6.65
Vegas has paid TK: $42.25

Steak dinners for the traveling clan... at Denny's.

third wheel

This morning, I snuck out of bed, took a shower, and got ready to head to breakfast... alone. Being the good little barnacle-traveler I am, I knew Mitzi and Wacky needed some "quality alone time". Yes, I mean that in the *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* kind of way.

As I start to head out the door, Wacky's head pops up from his pillow.

Wacky: Hey, TK, I was just going to head out to get some coffee. You want some?

TK: Nope. I'm going to go eat breakfast.

Wacky: You sure? I'll get you some.

TK: No, really Wack, you stay here. I'm going to go down and eat breakfast... for at least 45 minutes.

And with that I start out the door. Just before it clicks shut I hear Mitzi giggle from beneath the covers.

Leaving Las Vegas

I hate Northwest. Seriously.

They cancelled my connecting flight from Minneapolis to Greensboro. There is no flight, on any airline, that goes from Minneapolis to Greensboro after 5 (my arrival time). There is no way to leave Las Vegas at my current departure time (noon) and make it to GSO through any other airport in the US.

My alternatives?

a) Leave Vegas at 1am Saturday morning, arrive at GSO at 11:50am Saturday.
b) Leave Vegas at 1am Sunday morning, arrive at GSO at 11:50 Sunday.
c) Leave Vegas at noon, arrive at Minneapolis 5:10pm Saturday, depart at 6:40 Sunday morning. (That's right, a 13 hour layover. I learned my lesson about sleeping in airports on my way to Jamaica, and I'm NOT paying for a hotel in Minneapolis.)
d) Leave Vegas at 11pm Saturday night (after sitting at the airport for 9 hours without Goose and Wacky) and get to Greensboro Sunday late morning.

For now, I'm choosing option A. Pros: I get back to GSO in time for St. Patty's Day with Meg and Jeff and I don't have to sleep at an airport. Cons: I have to say goodbye to Goose and Wacky 11 hours earlier than planned.

I think I should charge Northwest for missing 1/2 of a day with Goose and Wacky.

I just told Goose my plan. She said, without hesitation, "TK, they couldn't afford it."

I guess Northwest should thank me for not bankrupting their incompetent airline. Case closed. Sort of.

I got stoned

Oh, sweet, sweet spa day. Mitzi and I spent few hours doing some landscaping today. We're freshly buffed and polished. We got carded at dinner tonight, and both attribute it to having had our first facials. We definitely look years younger.

Cost of pedicure: None of your beeswax.
Cost of hot stone massage: None of your beeswax.
Cost of facial: None of your beeswax.

Cost of getting carded at dinner: Worth every damn penny of my tax return.

Don't you judge me.




PS... You're all going to have to wait patiently for pictures. Don't worry, they're getting taken, but I forgot the cord to connect camera to computer so I can upload them.

It's Veg-ass, Baby!

It's 1:29am. No big win on my first $2 bets. Go figure. But I've developed my smoker's cough, and I'm getting an old lady sweater. Both things will apparently improve my chances of hitting the big one. Wacky and Mitzi just finished doing NCAA tournament brackets. They're hardcore. Now, if we can only lose the beat from the dance club next door...

I'm at the airport. My connecting flight to RETURN has been cancelled.

I have to leave a day early or a day late.

Stay tuned.

I'm in Greensboro, baby! Tonight, the challenge is on. TK vs the Brazillian Grill.

Good thing I waxed accordingly.

Update: Sweet meat on a stick! That place kicked my butt. Need crane. Send help.

To Do List:

Things to do to get ready for Veg-ass...

1. Prepare pet instructions for pet sitter and Mini-Me- check
2. Get pet food and assorted stuff to appropriate place- check
3. vaccum floors and do dishes- check
4. pack- mostly check (note to self, pack fabulous shoes to bring sexy back in Vegas)
5. take shower- getting ready to check
6. print flight info- check
7. Take trash out- check
8. Toss items from fridge that will be rancid by the time I return- check
9. Explain to Pooh King that he is not being abandoned- check, but he doesn't understand.
10. Finish taxes- Ummmm, that's just not going to happen.

T minus 3 hours and counting...

The good news? I'm taking Mr. Miagi with me so I can keep you posted. Hooray!

NOT abducted by aliens

I'm sorry. Didn't I mention that today was hair day? There are reports of blonde highlights, and coppery lowlights. Very, very Veg-ass.

The Great and Powerful Oz has returned. She felt slightly like a house landed on her, but overall is doing spectacularly well! She had the one snaggle-tooth pulled, and has to be on antibiotics for a few days due to "gingivitis" which is likely a mild infection. Doc Wilson (who, again, I adore) said that the tooth must have been even more sensitive than he anticipated since, even under anasthesia, she flinched when he pulled the tooth. Poor little Oz. I drove straight from work tonight to pick her up... poor Pooh King had to hold it another 30 minutes... lest she have to stay one extra minute in a cage.


Doc: I tried giving her some food, but I don't think she ate any.
TK: She doesn't do so well away from home.
Doc: I guess some of us are like that.


She purred and talked to me all the way home. Tonight she's holding my hands down while I type. Tonight, I won't have to turn the heat up 2 degrees for lack of a cat hat. Aaaaaaahhh, things are exactly as I'd hoped they'd be.

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy, "Will you marry me?" The guy said "No" and the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, drank martinis with friends, always had a clean house, never had to cook, had a closet full of shoes and handbags, stayed skinny, and was never farted on.

The end.


Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!

PS... SG had a little girl, Grace Cynthia, weighing in at 7lbs 5oz. Went to the hospital at 1:30 (we stopped talking at 11:30), made it through triage in time to push 8 times and have that baby.

Bad ass, I tell you, B.A.D.A.S.S.

Poor Oz!!!

Poor li'l fella! The Great and Powerful Oz is spending the night with Dr. Wilson. Tomorrow morning, she'll have one or two fewer teeth. You see, the cat has become a snaggletooth. Whether it was from poor nutrition before I found her, or that they just didn't teach good brushing and flossing at the Dumpster School, Oz is having some dental issues. She has the tiniest teeth I've ever seen on a cat. Granted, she's a tiny cat, but seriously, you should see these teeth! One on the bottom started pushing out of line, then the gums turned red right around the tooth. Now the gums have turned red around a few of the teeth. Doc Wilson (who I lurve... but I lurve old men!) says at least one has to be pulled, maybe more.

Doc: At least one of these is going to have to come out.

TK: I figured you'd say that.

Doc: I'll need to anesthetize her for it. It will hurt.

TK: Doc Wilson, I wouldn't let anyone pull one of my teeth out without being knocked out. I expect the same for my cat.

Doc: Good. Leave her here, I'll do the extraction in the morning, and you can pick her up after work.

TK: *sniff* Okay.

So, there sits Oz-fest, in a cage at Doc Wilson's. She isn't sitting on my hands as I type (per normal) and I won't have to awake to a cat on my head. I don't think I'll sleep well. Pooh King and I are pouting at home. He looks for her and whines. I look for her and whine.

She might be one pissed kitty tomorrow, but we'll be glad to have her back!

Totally stolen from the Webmistriz

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Hey, people, I did not steal the info from Dawn, just the link. All that info was entered by me. She's not my twin. Her page has the same type thing but with her own picks in the box. Sorry for the confusion.

another conversation

TK: Hey Sal! What's shakin'?
SG: Not much. Tell me about all your stuff.

chat, chat, chat

TK: Now Sal, before I tell you about the main attraction of my next assignment, I want you to sit down and breath quietly. I can't have telling you this send you into labor. (TK readies the story of how Alliance is sort-of-famous for Carhenge)
SG: Too late. I've been in labor since 2am. Things aren't progressing much. (BTW, it's 10am.)

SG and I chat for over an hour, only slightly slowed when she has a contraction every now and again.

She's bad-ass.

Good luck with bringing Baby G's new sibling into the world!

They've got crabs

I took my bi-annual drug test yesterday.

In Farmville, there is one testing site for my company. It's in the basement of a house on Main Street. I had my doubts when I walked in. There was a woman in her 60s in a t-shirt and a mullet. She needed help to fill out the paperwork. I went into a bathroom that looked like Martha Stewart had thrown up every floral print she's ever used onto the walls, toilet seat cover, and shower curtain. I'm not sure why there was a shower in the office bathroom.

Perhaps the bigger question is: Why there is a crab and a lobster in the fireplace?

6am update

Things are much better this morning.

Lip is working. Bye-bye Botox! My jaw is sore from being cranked open for so long. By the way, when the dentist told me to "open wide" I opened wide. The expression on his face was priceless. He got excited in a way that only dentists can and said "Oh my! You've got great vertical excursion!!!" I slapped him. Talk about things that can be taken out of context!

9:30 update...

Sweet Hey-zeus. That freakin' dentist is one sadistic son of a bitch. The botox is wearing off and I now want to kill myself... or at least cut my mouth off. There is not enough wine in my apartment to kill this. Not that I could drink it if I had it. I can't even drink through a straw.

And because of my stupid freakin' destiny, I don't even have ice cream in the house.

Stupid destiny!!!

O.M.G. I think the dentist used Botox on my mouth. My upper lip is silky smooth. Not a wrinkle in sight. But it won't move. Cheese and rice! My upper lip won't move! I can't make the 'p' sound, or 'm'. I can't drink. I can't keep food in my mouth without tipping my head back like a baby starling.

Maybe if I go back he'll do my forehead.

I had to revisit the dentist. At my visit last month, it was determined by Dentist A that I needed to have 5, count them, 5! fillings. 3 in the right upper molars, 2 in the left upper molars. "They're small," he said, "but better to take care of them now than when they're huge."

Fine.


So today, off I went. My 3:30 appointment got started promptly at 4:15. I was brought back and injected with Novacane (or some such numbing-type agent.) I was brave. I didn't cry. I did, however, warn the dentist, Dentist B (who, by the way, does not driver a Hummer, plus 10) that my roots are deep and I usually require a little more novacane than the average bear. I warn him that once upon a time, a dentist drilled on my tooth before it was numb, even though I told her that I could feel it. They still haven't found her body. He said no problem and loaded up both barrels. I asked him to do his finest work.

In the end, I only needed 4 fillings.



This is his finest work. No extra charge for the "flash."






Just kidding. He didn't really do that.