to your health

"So what do you think of the state of the Union? By which I mean the family? By which I mean God? God and the family! The family and God!" asked the dentist.

To which I would have replied with wit and vigor if there hadn't been a toolbox-worth of dental tools stuffed into my mouth, plus the dentist's index finger and thumb and his assistant's magical cold-air blowing device sucking my excess spit (and thus my vigor) away.

Why do dentists do this?

They do many things but I didn't know they classified mouths.

"Hmmmm...you have a very small mouth," said the assistant as she shoved x-ray slides into place next to my third molars. "Yep. A very small mouth. We call this an extra small. Open wider please."

My mouth was already opened as far as I could make it without dislocating something. I tried a squeak farther. My jaw crackled and popped ominously. I imagined how the next day I'd be in the local emergency room and a surgeon with a bone saw would be gently saying as he stabbed me with the first kick of knock-out drugs, "I hear Fred Meyers is having a sale on silk scarves. After I've detached your jaw and you're hideously deformed and nobody ever wants to kiss you again, maybe you should consider making veils. The allure and mystery, you know, of veiled women."

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I was in Portland for 3+ hours yesterday to pick up The Car. (I only ever have The Car for a few weeks at a time before something happens to part me from it. Then I drive back here with a borrowed car and confuse the Chevron gas station attendants who all know me by sight. "How many cars does this woman have?")

So I was in Portland to pick up The Car and I stopped over to see T and Mx Stubbert. Probably they will be my favorite people forever. On my way from their place to my place, I stopped and bought music. CDs! Fugazi's "13 Songs" and that Bon Iver "Whatsit to Emma" or whatever it's called. I once stole the most amazing mix CD from the bakery that was Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes only and it was perfect and I can't find it anywhere. Boo.

Fugazi, meanwhile, might be the most wonderful thing in the world and "Waiting Room" is beating out "Time After Time" (I admit it) as my number one pick-me-up-feel-good song. There was a dark time in my life when all I did every morning was lay in bed and listen to "Time After Time" on repeat. Jess remembers this time. She probably wants to forget it since I was not content to simply listen to the song. I'd also sing it wherever I was.

Dignity continues to elude me.

"Waiting Room" gives me slightly more musical credibility with the Kids Who Know. I think.

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But back to the dentist. While I was sitting in the waiting room, one of the local dignitaries came in and there was an awkward pause. Media and power like to remain apart in their personal lives, get some kind of break from the scrutiny and the scrutinizing. The awkwardness broke when we both half-admitted that going to the dentist was the most relaxing part of our day... a lunch break of sorts. Although, granted, the kind of lunch break that makes you feel guilty about eating any kind of lunch that isn't juice or water or mouth wash or floss.

It was a human moment (an H.M. Technical term. Look it up.)