![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUDzX0vJzIAye5U8UpYY50kmkhYxScKaHf9Ze__CTNVYKd9-QxiWMLzWq4fNADrq5koVpwzZHxhQcWfxrc_7tjgfnyaTdgQ7q0r9WTf3yOy02NtJlb8D7WNtPJL79wNf9Kr9wgbYWVT0/s400/p001.jpg)
Well, then. The most gaudy of the trees and bushes have put away their dress-up finery and started the serious business of picking out their work outfits which will take them through fall.
Purple, pink, fuchsia and white have been replaced with green and green is not a bad color here on Planet Earth.
It's the best color besides blue, which is the color of water when it is contained in an ocean and viewed from space.
I am wondering about this blog and my writing. It seems to me that I either write about my yard, my house, or perhaps the Opera House and all that goes on inside it. And this is simply because those are the places I am living my life these days.
I did go to the dentist yesterday. It went fine. My dentist is somewhat of a roue, I think. There's supposed to be a mark over that "e" but I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to act in public, either, but that's another matter and more to the point. I'm always amazed when I go to the dentist about how lovely all the women who work there are and there must be forty or fifty of them. Young and big breasted, they tease the Doc as they call him with tender condescension and he loves it. The whole scene reminds me of a harem. A happy, productive harem. The dentist is the only man in the office and he wears loafers with no socks and his hair is a bit longish. He calls me "Mare" which is hysterical and I need to start calling him "Mar" because his name is Mark and by god, I will one of these days.
When he came into the room where I was waiting, reclined back in the magic dental chair, he asked me how I was doing and I said I was fine, although given my druthers, I'd rather not have been there. I told him it had nothing to do with him. I'd love to meet him for a beer sometime. I meant this in no way as flirtation. Flirtation was the last thing on my mind with the thought of shots of Novocain and and drilling and filling taking up all the space in my head.
"That would be great!" he said. "Well. Maybe not. I get way too frisky when I drink. I'm a happy drunk. I fall in love."
I couldn't even begin to ponder this. It was ten-fifteen in the morning. And he was about to enter the sacred space of my mouth and wreck havoc there within.
"Let's do this thing!" he cried joyfully! "Let's get this done!"
And he proceeded to do so, making sure I was comfortable and he and the assistant worked as one, he with his implements of destruction, she with her implements of cleaning up and clearing out. While they worked he talked about going to his twentieth dental school reunion and about how it had been a good thing his wife had been with him!
I could only think of how much fun a dental school reunion could be. Maybe even more fun than a high school reunion and in my mind, they all wore their white jackets as they drank and mingled and ate spicy meatballs and flirted with one another and bragged about the size of their assistants' and hygienists' breasts, their beauty, their nimble fingers, their pearly white smiles.
Well, I thought about that and I also wondered how often a dentist makes a mistake and drills into a patient's brain and how I really needed to remember to breathe, although that was difficult with two pairs of hands in my mouth and all those instruments.
Soon enough, though, it was done and by then, the bantering had become trans-office with teasing and joshing going on between rooms, loudly enough for everyone to hear.
I suppose some people would be put-off by such goings-on in a dental office but me? No. It comforted me somehow. Yes, this was serious business- my teeth and my brain being put at dire peril- but at the same time, such an everyday occurrence that the perpetrators of the deed could talk about the most frivolous things in life while drilling within millimeters of my gray matter.
I got up from the chair, paid my bill and walked out, feeling as I always do after such an invasion of my physical being- invaded and traumatized as if my very bones had become gently weakened. Not in any pain at all, but still, traumatized.
I had a million errands planned to do in town but instead, I went to the grocery store and then to one of my oldest favorite thrift stores which is run by an extremely Christian group who takes in bad girls and turns them into good girls with gospel music, the love of Christ, and discipline. I get their newsletter. They are all saved, these girls, and they love their captors.
Anyway, it was drizzling and it was extremely soothing to browse through the junk, listening to the rain on the metal roof, the quiet talking of the few patrons in the store. A Mexican lady, a black lady, me and another white lady and her children. It was somehow the perfect thing to do after having had my mouth so painlessly and yet so forcefully worked on. I didn't have to talk to anyone and display my stroke victim-like smile. I could just wander around and look at pictures of Jesus and old pans and sheets and toys and dresses and golf clubs and giant wooden forks. I bought two outfits for my upcoming grandchild and a sewing-related gift for Ms. Maybelle, all of which cost me less than ten dollars. I was tempted by the giant fork but my kitchen walls are already taken up by various items of interest and besides, what's a giant fork without a giant spoon?
I went back out into the gray drizzly day and made my way home the long way, testing my mouth for pain, for feeling of any kind.
And today everything feels perfectly normal and I need to go to town and get all those errands done and this morning Mr. Moon said, "Do you want to come by and do some data entry for me?" and I said, "No. I do not. I do not want to do anything in town at all."
But I have to and that's that.
There are things which cannot be avoided and over which we have no control. The lightening and thunder last night was terrific and split the air and the darkness and our sleep and I had no control over it whatsoever and it could have killed us in our beds by striking us directly or by toppling over the tree right outside our bedroom window but it didn't. My library books are due.
There is data entry which must be done.
This is life on earth. Teeth must be fixed and weather taken as it comes and library books returned and new ones picked out.
This is just it, the way it is. Dental offices are humming somewhere, grocery store clerks are ringing up carts of coffee and cereal and asparagus and frozen blueberries. Students are walking to class and taking tests. Chefs are making sauces and bank tellers are counting bills and lawyers are consulting with clients and nurses are giving medications and it looks like more rain.
I have to leave my porch and go get on that river of asphalt and enter the city where all this is taking place, where all this human buzzing is occurring, where all this business is being taken care of.
I better go put on a bra and pretend to be normal.
I'd rather put on petticoats and pretend to be a duchess or a gypsy but that's not really a choice today and so here I go. The sooner started, the sooner finished and I will be able to come home and breathe easy, once again.
The birds will still be here, the potatoes will still be coming up in the garden, the frogs will still be singing in the swamp, and I'll be able to take off my bra.
And then I will be normal again. No pretending necessary.
Until play practice at 6:30, but that's the sort of pretending I love.
Have a nice day, whatever you are doing, whatever you are wearing, wherever you are.
Whoever you are having to pretend to be.
and you have a wonderful day too!
ReplyDeleteps I need to change dentists...mine pales by comparison
I am pretending to be an office worker, and it totally sucks. Especially today. This rain has really gone on for too long!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that your dental experience wasn't painful, even if your dentist is a bit of a perv. (It's not McQuarry is it? He's my dentist, and very much a prev. But oddly still sort of likeable.)
i think we all do such things. pretend to be normal. maybe at certain times our unnormalness is released more freely, but generally, i would say we all are wearing bras, especially when we go into town.
ReplyDeleteand why? why do people reach for this 'normal'? whoever defines normal so broadly and generally (and encourages us to follow) should be fired.
i say we protest. and let our crazy, unique, unnormalness show. what would that look like? if we all felt free to be exactly who we are?
burn the bras. let it all hang out.
oh and thanks for reminding me of 'dentist fear'.... 4 more days and im going under the knife... do u look like a chipmunk? i will, with lots of nuts in my cheeks. but i guess thats normal for wisdom tooth removal.
and isnt that what were after anyway? normal...
I just love it.
ReplyDelete(Incidentally, I call the wife 'Mare' too, short for Mary, even though that's not her name)
Dentists, I read somewhere, have one of the highest rates of suicide for their profession. Also up there are toll booth collectors.
ReplyDeleteOddly, your dentist sounds as happy as mine. I've never met someone so enthused by stripping gunk from my mouth. Different strokes rule the world, I suppose.
I've the same dentist my whole life! What am I gonna do when he retires??? It scares me to think.
ReplyDeletewow where do you go to the dentist?! mine's a total robot/zombie/asshole and i cant wait to find another one (before moving to florida i had the same one my whole life and it was a shock to come here and find some corporate ahole happy to put me in pain and not caring to ease it with any bit of socialization).
ReplyDeleteanyway that reminds me of the seinfield episode where he goes to the dentist and all the hygeinists are beautiful with big boobs, the dentist has porn magazines in the lobby, etc. lol!! hilarious stuff!
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThat was me...too many typos.
ReplyDeleteI had always had good experiences at the dentists I went to until I lived in Silver Spring, Maryland. It's somewhat common there to have the dentist work from a house office and this one did. Nothing wrong with that but he was quite the quack and I will never forget that experience. Thankfully I have a skilled one now who's not weird and mean at all, like the one in MD.
Your dentist story cracked me up!
haha
ReplyDeleteI'm having to pretend that I like wearing sweatpants everyday to school as a future PE teacher, but I really miss my jeans...
There is something so incredibly soothing about your blog. I never fail to feel relaxed and smile when I reach the end of a post. How do you do that?!
ReplyDeleteWait. I need to clarify. I didn't crack up at how you felt traumatized when you left the office, just about your thoughts, conversations and descriptions of the office place. :)
ReplyDeleteApathetic Bliss- Mine IS colorful.
ReplyDeleteLady Lemon- Uh. Well. I'm not saying a word.
Learner- Normal Shmormal is what I say. And yes, let's burn our bras. Please?
Xbox- So why DO you call her Mare? And she lets you?
Aunt Becky- Thank god someone wants to do the job, right?
Steph- You have a picture! Or are you a different Steph? I suppose you'll either have to give up dental care or get a new dentist. I hope for the latter.
CMe-Uh. Not saying but check out Lady Lemon's comment.
Nicol- I thought it was a funny story, too.
AJ- Sweat pants to work do not suck.
Penelope- I think I write in order to sooth myself and I guess it spills over to you. It's a bonus.
Because it's short for Mary which I call her, while not being her name.
ReplyDeleteXBox- Well, that explains it.
ReplyDeleteThat and everytime she says 'Hi' I say 'Are you?'
ReplyDelete3 years, and it never gets old.
She must love you an awful lot.
ReplyDeleteI have stopped calling her 'Cheese b***h' though.
ReplyDeleteA dental school 20 year reunion....hmmmmm.... I'm picturing lots of balding 45 year old dentists (or older, I don't know how long dental school lasts) and their younger, blonder, bustier second (or third) trophy wives. And all the dentists complaining about how 'managed care' is costing them thousands, and their wives talking about hair, make-up and cosmetic procedures. Maybe that's too harsh.
ReplyDeleteSame Steph :) Just doing an online facelift of sorts.
ReplyDeleteI think my dentist's son is going to school to be a dentist RIGHT NOW so maybe he'll stay in the area and I won't have to look far for a new dentist :) I hope. :|
Um, regarding Xbox's comment, what the hell is a cheese b***h?
I think our dentist's are related. Mine is so bizarre. Makes for the most entertaining root canals, though.
ReplyDeleteI am pretending to be normal, and I have fooled them all..........
Aw, I love this post. I think it's about three different posts.
ReplyDeleteThere is a homeopathic remedy called Staphisagria that can be taken for that feeling of violation/invasion after an operation. You might be interested in looking into it?
I'm recently home and de-bra'd.
Ahhhhhh.
XBox- I am proud of you, man! Way to be romantic!
ReplyDeleteMOB- Fifty-four. My dentist is the same age I am. And I think the reunion was a lot more fun than that from the way he described it.
Steph- Nice to put a face with a name. I think that the letters Xbox left out may have been itc. Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. X.
Zelzee- Yes. We are all fooling everyone. I'm sure we are.
Ms. Jo- Remind me of that next time I go to the dentist, please?
Yay for no bras!
I put you in my Friday Flux Blog Crushes Post today :)
ReplyDeleteMight I add, I fully support the no bra movement.
ReplyDeleteI feel like I've seen that picture before ;-0. I am pretending to look really hard for a job. Ok, I actually AM doing that, but sometimes it feels pretend. Yay for any good dental experience, you give us all hope.
ReplyDeleteI think the pretend comes in when you just don't feel good in your own skin, and that happens to all of us at times, but the real me comes thru rather loudly and clearly most of the time.
Maggie May suggested your blog.
~Mary
Yea, I think dentists are an odd sort. I know swooping generalizations are frowned upon these days, but the mind does have a natural need to categorize...
ReplyDeleteAnyway, glad it all worked out for ya. Keep flossing.
MaggieMay- I am too honored to even speak. Your writing is amazing and thank-you.
ReplyDeleteXBox- Was that pun intentional?
FrankandMary- Thank you for stopping by and taking time to comment. I see I must spend some time reading your interesting words. Hmmm. Fathers. Wish I'd had one. Glad you did. Sorry you lost him. I really am.
Good luck with the job search.
Petit Fleur- That's a very nice way of saying that very often stereotypes have a basis in truth.
Very much so.
ReplyDeleteI Support No Support!