In Kauai Hawaii in 1990 something while on a two-week vacation with a boy I learned two key things – One: don’t EVER vacation with someone who brings the guidebook and a pencil to check off every thing in the guide book as once he's done it. Unless that’s your thing too. In which case, I don't want to vacation with you. Ever. And - Two: I apparently I’m one of those people who like to find a word or phrase and use it over and over and over. In Kauai, that world was ‘stunning.’ The sunset was stunning. The sunrise was stunning. The dolphins were stunning. The waterfalls were stunning. You get the idea. Everything was stunning. The combination of that damn guidebook and my lack of vocabulary led to a stunningly quick end to that relationship. Thank goodness. He was an ass. A few summers ago, my go to word was ‘fantastic.’ A friend of mine taught me how to use it as a cuss word, drawing the word out slow and steady and precise. “Fan. Tas. Tic.” Became a substitute for every cuss word I wanted to utter. And working with teenagers and their hormones and a awful boss with his head so far up his… well, let’s just say, there was a lot of cussing that needed to be had that summer. The phrase, “Well. That’s just Fan. Tas. Tic!” served me well. Last summer, when I was back working in California and living with Mom for two months, I was “Shut. The. Front. Door!”-ing all over the place. Well, at least I was until Mom shot me ‘the look’ and told me in no uncertain terms that she was “not at all pleased with my language” and I needed to “clean it up.” It is pretty scary to be reprimanded by your mother when you’re old. One look from her and I was instantly back in my time out years, worried that she’d make my punishment worse and I’d never ever get to see my friends. This week, this month, my word of choice seems to be ‘horrific.’ It’s an awesome word – the ‘ff’ and the hard ‘c’ – just awesome. I’ve seen horrific driving. I’ve heard horrific singing. I’ve been in horrific traffic. My mood has been horrific. The smells coming out of the dog have been horrific. I mean, truly horrific smells! And, if you’ve been reading this post at all regularly, you know I’m a fan of the words 'freaking’ and 'awesome,' usually squished together and slanged up. As in “Nicest Dentist Ever is freakin’ awesome!” My point? I need a thesaurus. In addition, my penchant for cussing with really offensive sailor language and attempting to cover the filth with delicious adjectives masking as cuss words, means I’m really not someone you can take out in polite company. And everyone here in the South is polite company. So I am going to try adding in a few more colorful words and phrases to my every day babble. I’ve decided to troll the vocabularies of various friends, harvest the best and most bizarre words and work them into my everyday conversations. Today, I’m going to start off with a word that I’ve appropriated from the two-year-old twins; “Turtle.” Instead of cussing I’m just going to call people, “Turtle!” It’s a simple word but when said with intention and a somewhat lethargic tongue, it’s quite a suitable word to describe a person or a situation. And, I think, it’s bit of a step up from “Muppet.” which is one of Husband’s go-to insults for me. I’m not sure how effective it will be as I scream, “Get out of my way, you Turtle!” out of the window of my Smart Car but at least I’ll be family friendly and accurate and someone you can bring home to mother. New thought: I don't suppose you want to bring home someone who screams at people out of their car window... I'll put it on my list of things to work on next.
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The allergies are bad here in Nashville. Whatever is growing that makes my eyes itch on the inside and my nose a non-functioning body part is a very happy bush or tree or flower. Husband and I have taken to taking Benadryl at night before bed so the sleepy start, as the drug progresses through our systems, happens at night. Tigger the Dog, who also has allergies, gets her dose during the day. Yes, I’m totally drugging the dog. Yes, the Vet told me to. And yes, I know there is a non-drowsy version. I, ironically, was on Benadryl and sleepy when I bought this batch and didn’t read the label.
Anyway, it’s made for a weird bunch of dreams as I lay in bed trying to pull myself out of sleep. Mostly I can’t quite catch the story of but unsettled feelings stay with me all day. One morning, I woke up stressed because I’d dreamt I was going to miss the football game. A major, like playoff game I was supposed to be playing in and I totally missed the start as I struggled to put on my uniform in the locker room. And my team was losing as I fought with pads and shoes and helmets and the crowd was angry and my teammates were angry and I was stressed and frustrated and, some how still couldn’t get my uniform on. I have no idea where that one came from. I don’t watch football. I’ve never played football. Heck, I don’t even play board games or exercise. It was an unenjoyably intense start to the day. One night, I dreamt about having to get a balloon. It was a red heart shaped balloon and I needed to get the stupid thing and bring it to this party. The whole dream was about this balloon. As any child with frizzy hair and a lack of assertion should, I hate balloons. I know, just KNOW they will pop in my face. I see them at parties and try to stand far away from them. Recently, I watched a pair of toddlers yank them up and down, hitting their faces and I winced and flinched each time the evil thing hit them in the face. And yet, in this dream, I wanted one bad enough to chase about the town hunting for a red heart shaped balloon. And lately, because of New Dentist and the mythical/possible eleven cavities and a root canal, I’ve been dreaming about teeth. Or lack of teeth. Or teeth that suddenly have to be pulled out and there’s no pain medication or dental tools or dentist around and it’s just me in the basement with Husband’s tool set trying to pull out my own teeth. Which, naturally, doesn’t go well. And then I spend the rest of the dream trying to fix the problem or find someone to fix the problem, mouth filled with painfully bloody holes. Needless to say, I’ve not been sleeping well. The other night, I tried not taking the pill. Actually, I didn’t try. I just didn’t take the pill. And it wasn’t a conscious decision, I was just too lazy to get up and get it after I’d snuggled into bed with my horrible headache that seems to accompany this summer heat. The next day I woke up less fuzzy – both physically; my hair looked great from the lack of stressful tossing and turning, and cognitively; I didn’t have to wade through a mess of weird dreams and sluggish thought patterns to function. “Great,” I thought. “No more Benadryl for me!” And then I tried to function outside. And my nose stuffed and face swelled and eyes burned and breathing became a thing I had to choose to do and I sounded like I was in a dark tunnel talking through a toilet tube and I’m sure I would have been thinking clearer had I had enough oxygen to the brain. At bed that night, I went for the lesser of two evils - the Benadryl. Because, in my weird world, bad dreams and a fuzzy start to the morning will beat boogers, burning eyeballs and lack of air every time. Remember a week ago when I went to New Dentist and she told me I had eleven cavities and needed a root canal?
Remember when yesterday I was going to go to New Dentist and demand my x-rays to send to Nicest Dentist Ever so he could look over them and determine if I did indeed have eleven cavities and need a root canal? Well, I went. I waited until 10am – not sure why I thought that would be the time they opened. What kind of dentist would have the luxury of waiting to open until 10am? I totally didn't think that through but I waited and went in at 10:05am to find that they actually opened at 8:30am. I’m a dork. Anyway, there was probably a rush on “treatment plans” at 8:30am so 10:05am was probably a better time to demand my x-rays. I walked in, up to the desk and then got the “I’ll be right with you finger.” I waited as she set up some dude behind the wall on the treatment side for yet another “treatment plan” appointment. It took awhile. Apparently, they have "lots of patients" and "no appointment times open." Finally, I got the smile and “I’m so sorry about the wait.” And I explained that I was there to pay my bill and to get my x-rays and she smiled again and asked for my info and I passed her my bill and she looked me up on the computer and typed a bit and then asked me if I was moving to a new dentist and I had a choice; truth – “I think New Dentist is full of crap and there is no way I have eleven cavities and need a root canal after just one year of not getting my teeth cleaned.” or lie – “I’m creating wall art of all my body part tests and I just need the x-rays of my teeth and it will be complete.” I went with truth. Well, a modified less accusatory version of the truth. I told her I was surprised by the diagnosis and wanted to send Nicest Dentist Ever my x-rays so he could compare them to my old ones. She nodded, typed some more. Asked me for my email. Typed it in. Repeated it back to me. Pushed enter and then we set about trying to pay the bill of $19.10. I say “trying” because I pulled a Mom and I paid in cash which caused a minor drama because I gave her $20.10 and she didn’t have a dollar so there was a two minute period where she hunted through the junk drawer in the office for small change as I stood there awkwardly as, of course, only I could be. Finally, I got my change – in pennies, nickels and dimes which totally serves me right for trying to be passive aggressive like my mother in this situation – and I got my paid in full receipt and I had, in theory, the email of x-rays so I left. I did not check that handy dandy phone I carry around that serves as my personal computer more than a phone and would have dinged had I gotten an email. I did not check to see if the dinger was off and I’d gotten the email and missed it. I’m a dork. I just patted myself on the back on a confrontation well done and went about my day and it was not till later that I checked. No email. No x-rays. I gave her the day. She was harried and I was a pain. Perhaps she’d pushed send but it bounced back and she’d notice as she cleaned up her desk for the day. Perhaps my Gmail dumped them in trash. Perhaps she spelled ej wrong. Yeah, lots of possible perhaps’ including perhaps she’d not pushed send because, as Husband had suggested, they were NOT MY X-RAYS. All I know is it’s 6:25am and I still have no x-rays and I have to start another day with another visit to the dentist. UGH! Why do we need teeth anyway? Other than bacon, I could drink all my meals... ("I want my two dollars." - total reference to Better off Dead an awesome 80's movie that I'm currently channeling - minus the bike and the snow. Points if you got the reference AND if you can say it in the creepy newspaper boy voice.) UPDATE: I got my x-rays after one passive aggressive email and long and awkward phone call. With my totally untrained eye, I have a billion cavities or none at all. Nicest Dentist Ever might do better at looking them over. He is a professional and all... A friend mentioned to me that he dated a hygienist once and she said that scamming is common because folks don't have cavities anymore so dentists make them up. This sucks in the worst of ways. Mean people are awful and I hate them and their stupid faces. The end. Remember a week ago when I went to New Dentist and she told me I had eleven cavities and needed a root canal?
And this was after Sad Faced but Cheery Dental Hygienist had told me I had great teeth? Remember how I laughed in her face? Well, not twenty-four hours later I’d gotten two emails from her – including one asking me to evaluate my experience – and I was no longer laughing. Partly because I’d actually read the treatment plan and looked at the final dollar amount – approximately THREE GRAND!!! And partly because I started having phantom pains in my mouth – but not where I needed the work. So I called my awesome Old Dentist in California and left him a long rambling message about my current teeth saga and asked him to call me back when he was back in the office. He called me last night. He’s awesome. First we both laughed about the situation. Then we laughed some more. Then, when I said Mom and Husband totally thought it was a scam, he very diplomatically said – and I’m totally paraphrasing here - that he’d hate to bad mouth another dentist’s practice but that some anomalies on teeth show up as shadows on x-rays and that some dentists interpret those shadows as cavities and that a patients hygiene and past history needed to be taken into consideration and could I send him the treatment plan and the x-rays and he’d take a look at everything and compare them to my old x-rays free of charge. Because Old Dentist - who I will now be calling Nicest Dentist Ever - is the nicest guy around! So today, I have to go to New Dentist, pay the Nineteen dollars and ten cents I owe them and ask for a copy of my x-rays without laughing or cussing or crying. Three things I am totally likely to do in stressful situations. Because, even thought I think that they might be scamming me, I hate to make people feel bad and I HATE confrontations and I particularly hate having to ask for something from someone who may or may not be scamming me that I totally need because, if I don’t have Nicest Dentist Ever look over my x-rays, I’m pretty sure I’m going to dream my teeth are falling out from now until they totally do. Today is going to be awesome. Totally going to reward myself with something gross and bad for my teeth and me after I get my x-rays from New Dentist. Who am I kidding? I’m totally going to reward myself with something gross and bad for me before going to get my x-rays from New Dentist. I may already have eleven cavities and need a root canal and life is freakishly short so what’s wrong with starting with the bad stuff right now. I had popcorn for dinner last night. Nothing is off the table with me. Nothing. In case you think Husband I make up his ‘isums’ in my weird little brain, this is a text from Husband yesterday: Needless to say, I am still standing at the edge of the pool waiting for it to fill up. I am still terrified to jump.
And then, last night, when Husband asked me what I did to distract myself during the day from the filling swimming pool, I launched into a twenty minute play by play of my day. I gave him all the boring details including what route I took to get places and how I felt while driving and he looked like he wasn’t paying attention so I stopped telling him about my possible tiny allergy to Honeydew melons and that should probably only eat Cantaloupe but that I didn’t like Cantaloupe the same way I liked Honeydew and then I told him he was a horrible listener and that I would never tell him about my dumb day again. And he said that he’d heard the whole thing, repeated most of it back to me until I told him to stop and then he told me that Tom Cruise would and should play the Cantaloupe in the movie version of my story. It's hard to worry about the little things when Tom Cruise will be playing a part in your life story. |
AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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