The other day I was sitting in the living room, attempting to read while the children ran around the house, screaming like banshees and tearing every single toy from it's shelf and then dropping them all over the house. It was raining. We had planned on going swimming and daddy was supposed to go with us. It would have been the first time all summer he would have made it to the pool. Mother Nature had other plans. It involved making my children stay inside and alternate between fighting with each other and fighting with me. Good times.
As I sat rereading the same sentence over and over about 34 times, Mary came in and decided that what I really needed was a piano concerto. Mary's musical style could be described as, um, experimental and esoteric. In other words, not terribly conducive to reading. But I kept trying. I forged ahead, reading the same sentence about five more times and then Mary's song stopped. She hopped off the bench and bowed and then said in the voice she reserves for posh and fancy things "That song was called 'The Dancing Panther Captures the Flag.' Did you enjoy it?"
It took every shred of willpower I had not to snort. Seriously. Every shred. I clapped and told her it was brilliant. She told me that someday she is going to grow up and make up songs for people. With titles like that, I think that she'll be making millions and able to keep me in a style to which I've never grown accustomed.
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I broke a tooth last week. Well, not actually a tooth. More like part of the overlay that the dentist put on my tooth.
Back in February while in for my regular dental checkup, the dentist discovered that the last lower molar right before my wisdom tooth was cracked. (Yes, I still have my wisdom teeth. When they started coming in I was a teenager. Well, duh. Anyway, our family dentist told me "You have a big mouth, you should have no problems with your wisdom teeth." Thanks a lot. That statement has given my parents all kinds of mileage...) I hadn't been having any problems with it, but they insisted on fixing it.
Rather than putting a crown on it they put some sort of porcelain overlay on it. (You dental types, don't laugh at me. I can't see what they're doing in there! I just pay the bill for it.) About two months later, that tooth became sensitive and I didn't like to chew on that side. I know, not a good sign, and I had every intention of getting in for an appointment. It just didn't seem urgent and there were other things--like life--that got in the way.
Tuesday night, my tooth made the decision for me. I was sitting at the computer, chewing a piece of gum. As usual, I had been chewing on my left side. I briefly shifted the gum to my right side bit down and heard and felt a crunch that made me shudder. I have nightmares about breaking teeth. What are those about anyway? This made me do a full body heebie-jeebie dance.
My sons, who were sitting next to me became quite alarmed but I told them I was fine, not to worry. Then, being young boys, they insisted they had to see the damage. I obliged and opened my mouth. "Aww cool! Ewww! Whoa!" they exclaimed. Yeah, I'm awesome with the elementary school set and I'm available for birthdays and bar mitzvahs...
So I found myself sitting in the dentist's chair on Wednesday afternoon. I don't get freaked out by the dentist like some people do, but I wasn't looking forward to this visit. I knew it meant about two hours in that chair and that I'd be wrung out like a wet dishrag when I was done. Also, I forgot to bring my ipod, so that meant I was going to have to listen to everything. Ugh.
As I was in the chair with my jaws wedged open and 6 instruments and 9 fingers in my mouth, I was attempting to watch Andrew Zimmern on Bizarre Foods through the dentist's arms. Yeah, not the best choice of show when you are sitting in the dentist's chair. He was in the Caribbean and there was some fabulous eatin' going on. Things like Cow Skin soup and some dish with pig and chicken feet. Mmmm...yummy... Suddenly my gag reflex was hyper-sensitive. I wonder why?
Anyway, there I am with the dentist and his assistant up to their elbows in my mouth and we're listening to this show and then the assistant asks me if I would ever eat any of that stuff. "Are you an adventurous eater?"
How in the name of Great Googly Moogly was I supposed to answer? Why do they do that? I mean, assuming I could move my tongue, I'd still have to maneuver around everything else in my mouth. "Nmoponomhmo," I managed. And then I shut my eyes. Not only was I hoping to shut out any more bizarre foods (raw conch anyone?) but I was praying that she would get the hint that my mouth was otherwise occupied at the time and as much as I'd like to carry on a conversation with her, I simply wasn't able to.
The upside was that my work was still "under warranty" and I wouldn't have to pay for it. Next time, I'm bringing my ipod if I have to staple it to my ears.
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My husband is notorious for getting song lyrics wrong. We have spent many evenings laughing at the words he inserts because he doesn't know what the words really are. On Sunday afternoon, he had a song running through his head and he kept singing the same words over and over. I started to laugh at him.
"Sentimental gentle wind...blowin' through my life again....blah, blah blah," he'd sing.
"14 joys and a will to be merry..." he continued.
"That can't be right," I laughed. "14 joys and a will to be merry?? What does that even mean?"
Suddenly we were singing it with extraordinarily goofy words and cracking ourselves up.
"Sentimental gentleman, will never get a date again..."
"14 toys and they all belong to Mary..."
Last night I decided to find the song. Not only were we both surprised to discover that Fleetwood Mac sang that song (WTH?) but that my husband, the anti-lyricist was correct! It does say "14 joys and a will to be merry." (Again, I must ask: Wth, Fleetwood Mac?)
Now, I will never again be sure if my husband is lyrically incorrect or if the musicians were simply too high to notice that their words MAKE NO SENSE!!
Whatever. It's still a fun way to pass the evening. If you're ever over at our house, start singing a song. I can pretty much guarantee that not only will my husband start singing it, you will hear words inserted that probably don't belong.
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