The dentist keeps me from writing


I had a visit to the dentist today, to get a temporary crown put in while they make the permanent crown. I am only now getting my brain back together after the painkillers wore off. Not much writing to be done today. :-? 

I am not sure what to do with my project for NaNoWriMo… I want to finish it, but I am running out of things to write. It’s not a piece of fiction — I’m trying to get my memories of my family down in one place for Peter. It’s not an epic novel, by any means. I am not even sure it holds together, but I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt.

End of another fine Thursday


Dentist: uneventful. Only screamed once. But seriously, folks… nothing to report, and only reporting the nothing because I’d promised you all I would.

I am noticing a rhythm to the days now, for the first time since my operation a year ago this last March. It’s a good rhythm, one I haven’t had at least since I’d drop Peter off to grade school and head to my math classes at the University of Cincinnati, an even longer time ago.

Having a rhythm to your days is a gift. What that rhythm contains is up to you, but the simple gift of enough days to find a rhythm, that’s a gift.

And having good blog friends is a gift, too. :D

My morning at the dentist's


A new bright sunny day, and I have to go to the dentist. Oh well, at least it will all be over by lunchtime. The fancy work on my teeth, that I mostly didn’t tell you about on the blog here, has been finished, and I am going in for the traditional “routine cleaning.”

Will try to think of something fancy to write while I’m in the chair.

Further health gains


Cancer doctor visit last Friday; all is good there, but he gave me an extra antibiotic for the lingering cough from my bronchitis. This particular medicine is doing the trick, and I was healthy enough today to get my permanent veneers installed. They look like teeth; they are teeth!

My smile is creeping up on that of Angelina Jolie, She better watch out.

You know you're crazy when…


Via Textfiles
The Warning Signs Of InSaNiTy

1. Your friends tell you that you have been acting strange lately, and
then you hit them several times with a sledgehammer.
2. Everyone you meet appears to have tentacles growing out of places that
you wouldn’t expect tentacles to be growing from.
3. You start out each morning with a 30-minute jog around the bathroom.
Continue reading



I have taken my Compazine to battle the slight tendency to unruliness on the part of my ever more beleaguered stomach, so I am full of energy. However, the macro in TextMate that says the date and time says it is now Date: 2006-12-26 21:56:27. (By the way, don’t accidentally start looking for this macro on the C language sub-menu, because it’s most unhelpful to do so.)

However, the fact of the time which the built-in macro presented us with also presents us with a probability extremely close to 1 that I’ve taken my Ambien already too. So, I have plenty to tell you, and very little time to do so coherently in.

I was going to present you with various notions of mathematical proof up against what we in the workaday workd regard as proof, and what trained lawyers regard as proof. We’re talking three different worlds here.

I’ll take the workaday world’s version of proof, because it’s very easy, and can be short enough for my needs at present. The workaday version of proof works like this: “Four out of five dentists say that brushing your teeth regularly is a good thing to do.” Then you, later in the evening, are confronted with a toddler who, though getting ready for bed, doesn’t want to brush his teeth.

“But you have to brush your teeth,” you say to him.

“But why, Mommy?” he asks, not all that unreasonably.

“It’s because,” you say in that tone of voice reserved for enunciating knowledge received from on high, “It’s because four out of five dentists say that brushing your teeth regularly is a good thing to do.”

Confused by the nature of this new kind of bullying from anonymous dentists, he decides to brush his teeth anyway so he can get to bed and have you read some more *Harry Potter* to him before he falls asleep.

Workaday world burden of proof: “They say.” Get enough of them and they’ll not only say damn near anything, but have you believing that it’s so.

As for burden of proof, that certainly has nothing to do with us, with you and me who are talking here. For even if we were dentists, we’re certainly not “four out of five dentists.” Proof is assumed. Of course it’s assumed; that’s what proof is for: being assumed.

Now the rest of the types of proof that I actually find myself worried about on more than one occasion (Happens to the best minds, don’t you know? Just check out any math department) are clearly in my head, but have started holding conversations with the Compazine and Ambien floating around in there. It seems that they’ll be busy in conversations till tomorrow.

Meanwhile, they’ve asked me to post this as an introduction. So consider yourself introduced. Hats and coats go in the spare bedroom, and there is a light buffet on the dining table. Mix, mingle, and enjoy yourselves.

what i did today


I spent about three hours of today sprawled in the dentist’s chair, getting two new crowns, one temporary and one “real.” 2 sedatives by mouth, nitrous oxide by nose.

That was kind of… fun. I think. It’s hard to remember. Slept until after dinner. Now I watch Lost and pretend I know what’s going on. I refuse to watch American Idol. On general principle.

I pack in the morning. Toothpaste.


I’m none too sure how a brand-new tube of toothpaste ended up entangled in our bedclothes, and frankly am none too eager to find out. Though I think it has something to do with my visit to the dentist yesterday, along with the dawning realization that I shall need at least 2 new crowns, and possibly a cavity or two filled. Unless that cavity stuff is something I misheard, and is folded into the business with the crowns. (Pause while Other Patti shudders.) And a new occlusal guard as well. One I can tolerate, at least.

But enough of that. That’s not what I was planning to write about before I set out for the airport. I go to Boulder again to be with Peter the last few weeks of his freshman year. He is not happy, and college is definitely not turning out to be the wondrous, life-enhancing experience that he’d been led to believe it would be. Poor thing.

Mommy rushes to his side, therefore, to give him company, and not incidentally to escape the onslaught of oak pollen from the tree in the front yard. More when I get there. We have a phone line there, so at least I can use dialup.

I still have teeth.


Or so both the dentist and hygienist said this morning. I thought I had, but it’s best to get a professional opinion sometimes.

Then lunch, then a visit with Rabbi Ilana to discuss my long-drawn-out conversion process. Long, good talk. Much for me to do.

Tomorrow, the romance…


Tomorrow, my love shall come home for lunch and take me out driving, park carefully, open the door, and waltz me into…

the dentist’s office.

I am going in for a Cleaning, a big one. Not the one you usually get at the dentist’s office. This one, they sedate me and really dig down into the gums.

To prepare, I get to take a Valium before bed. Therefore, any posting between now and tomorrow evening is likely to be… strange.