The Circus

Summer colds are the worst and mine was a doozy.   Monday morning I was scheduled for the first appointment of the day with my dentist.  Since I couldn't reach the office over the weekend to reschedule and I didn't want to be one of "those people" who cancel at the last minute, I decided to go and let them hear me for themselves.  Cough.  Cough.  Cough.  I knew that nobody in their right mind would want me within six feet of them.

Although I was hacking while talking to the receptionist, she didn't seem too concerned. Even though I know the dentist wears a mask and plastic gloves, I was still shocked when he didn't think my coughing was a big deal either.  I, on the other hand, didn't even want to be in the same room with me.

My view from the dental chair.

They led me back to the chair, clipped my bib on and the circus began.  First, Sidekick Sam put a mini-trampoline in the front of my mouth, which may have shielded them somewhat from gross-ocity but I believe it's designated function was to keep my jaws wide open.  Then, the dentist crammed both his hands and part of his arm into my mouth and began baton twirling with tiny silver instruments, an act that he himself said he never perfected in any classroom during dental school.  I started to laugh, which made me cough, which made him stop and raise the mechanical chair to an upright position.  Every time he lowered the chair, he would say something funny which would make me laugh, which would make me cough.  This was going to be a long morning.

Somewhere in the middle of the hilarity, Sidekick Sam, who is the Princess of Compassion, says, "I don't mean to frighten you, but...."

I ask you, does it even matter what she says next?  I mean, I'm already alarmed based upon her introductory statement.  This, apparently, was the wild animal portion of the show because I have turned into a dragon and plumes of smoke are billowing out of my mouth. Sam is just trying to reassure me that this is normal.  Normal.  Really?

Guess what?  My eyes had been closed.  Before she mentioned it, I thought there was a pot of chili burning somewhere.  Now I have arrived at the painful conclusion that my mouth is on fire.  That's okay though, because it's normal.

Years ago, my dentist made me a queen when he inserted a permanent crown of gold into my mouth.  I have behaved regally ever since; sometimes I even wear a tiara. Now these two are trying to one-up that guy by making me the winner of a prestigious sporting event:  The Triple Crown.  I am short enough to be a jockey, but I'm not crazy about that outfit.

When the dust settled - or, in this case, when the temporary crown was glued into place, three hours had elapsed.  The trampoline was removed.   The whole side of my face was achy and sore but I was floating on air I was so elated.  Why?  

No, I hadn't been sucking in the nitrous oxide!  Who would even think I would do that? Well, it does make your voice sound squeaky and funny, so it would fit into the circus theme. 

But that was not the source of my glee.  I was delighted BECAUSE IT'S OFFICIAL! After he finished, my dentist told me I have an extremely tiny mouth.

 My dentist is a professional and he says I have an extremely tiny mouth.  It must be true then.

Extremely.Tiny.Mouth.

www.StillSwimmingUpstream.com

The Wedding

Satan's Mistress (aka my yoga instructor Mary Ann) married Jason the Giant Friday and the wedding was fabulous! FABULOUS!!!!!!!!  

Why?  Because the bride and groom had the foresight to rent a photo booth to entertain the masses during lulls in the action.  Since I knew a total of three other guests, it was easy for me to corral them all into the booth before they really even realized what was happening.  Sadly, the pictures had kind of a "deer in the headlights" look to them and I just knew we could do better.

I'm an overachiever and that boring, normal, sub-par photo strip just didn't sit well with me.  How to spice things up?  Hmmm... Immediately after we received our photo strip, the woman who'd been behind us in line emerged from the photo booth with a little red feather on her shoulder.  Hey!  There were props in there that we hadn't noticed.  Jackpot!

I was only able to convince two of the original three ladies to get back in line with me for a "do over."  We piled back into the photo booth, this time grabbing boas, hats and a mask.  We were much happier with our photo strip results this time.  We were so happy, in fact, that we began arguing about who got to keep it.  Never the shy one, I asked the photo booth attendant (yes, that appears to be a legitimate job opportunity) if he could make us copies.  He said no, but we could go back in again.  Since he gave us official permission, it was a done deal.  

Luckily, there was now only a short line.  The other adults were off doing whatever ~ listening to toasts, watching the bride and groom cut the cake ~ something along those lines.  There were few kids in attendance so nobody was really competing with us for booth time.  

By now, we were feeling like silver fox models. This time as we were squeezing in, Mary grabbed an adorable flamingo hat and plopped it on her head, Diane donned sunglasses and I grabbed the best prop of all: a tall, attractive man that none of us knew.  I threw a purple boa on him just as the flashing commenced.  At first he was stunned and looked bit confused but soon we were all laughing so hard that the first set of pictures we took were pretty goofy.  We just stayed in the booth, laughing even harder.  We took a second, then a third set of pictures.

And that's how we met Srini, Mary Ann's boot camp buddy and a genuine good sport.  I'm pretty sure that during the ensuing conversation I invited myself to visit his parents in India and I'm certain he volunteered to teach me (and a few of my closest friends) how to cook authentic Indian food.  If that doesn't have potential for a future post, what does?  

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Rickman!!

PS  Your cake was delicious.  I ate two-and-a-half pieces of it while no one was looking.  Was that wrong?