Oh, not ANOTHER critter?!

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Well, I never did get that 'post ahead' accomplished; probably some alert from 'the Crisis of the Moment Club' as Phlegmmy calls it, very likely another critter-related bit of melodrama. Although Terry and I had opted for an unpredictable life in the middle of nowhere, we did carefully engineer the life aspects that we had control over, like two each dogs/neutered and two each cats, likewise neutered. He would have cringed at me even temporarily adopting two old irresponsible hippies, their 100+ critters or these dozen extra dogs or the now thirty barn cats.

The good news is that while fiddling and waiting for old Rome to burn, my dental appointment finally arrived. For months, I had been nursing along a black, crowned molar that would occasionally mimic one of those bloated road kill raccoons along side of the road and then erupt like Vesuvius. I found another dentist after the first group couldn't quote me a flat rate on extracting a #31 molar. Some pain-deadener, maybe an ex-ray and an over-priced autoclavible pair of pliers, right? Simple enough, right? Or not. They finally offered "Well, it depends on your ability to pay. It could be from $100 to $300. Bring in your 2008 tax returns." Say whuh? Not only are our 2008 returns still up in the air but I have a hard time with the idea of presenting our private financial matters to a damned dentist. I don't even give anyone my social security number. You don't have to for matters not involving social security, at least from what I have heard and no one to date has protested when I write 'NON-applicable" in that line . With the rise in identity theft, avoid doing so whenever you can. Anyway, I decided that I didn't want to deal with a raging socialist medical konglomerate so I found another dentist in the phone book who seemed much more traditional and straightforward.

And it worked out great! Flat rate quoted up front and even closer to home. It probably helped that, as I swung around to drop into the chair, I noticed a very nice aircraft print on the wall despite my myopia and commented absent-mindedly "Hey, is that a P-3?" The dentist broke into a delighted chuckle and said "Well! I never would have expected any of my patients to recognize it! So ... how did you anyway?" We three (the assistant who absolutely has to be his wife) all got along famously after that. Even the receptionist said "You guys sounded like you were having WAY too much fun in there." We did. And they had wonderful senses of humor. When the assistant saw a huge prairie dog in their lot and said "Better get your gun out!" I said "Gee, just because I referred to him as a 'swabby'?" She grinned back "I hadn't thought about that but, yes, you're not going to feel a thing now, believe me." Then came time for the ex-ray. I explained my dread of this process; that someone cranks open your mouth like shoving back the lid on a trash receptacle in front of a Home Depot, shoves something barely short of a small billboard with razor edges into your mouth and then commands "Clamp down!" with a smile and disappears for God knows how long while the acute pain is causing you tears and life reviews. "Hey, anybody out there? I'm noticing the sun setting and that's probably not a good thing considering it was a 2PM appointment. Hello? Anyone?" She giggled and said "Well, that's when we both slip out for cocktails, you know."

When I said "I've always heard that old sub-hunters go into dentistry when they retire", he told me that his dad was Navy in WW2 and that he was the third generation dentist in the family. Whatever the reason, I am so glad to finally find a real dentist as I remember them. No virtual harem of female assistants either. Let that be your big clue-in to over-priced profit-centering; when you walk in and there are 20 assistants and only one pro. Or if they refer to their master money glommer as "Doctor Tim" or "Docter Who" or Doctor Bloody Whatever. If I have a problem, I wanted it fixed efficiently and at a reasonable price ... I don't want a beautiful day with Mr. Rogers and his pricey neighborhood of help. Oh, and if they have the doc's written-off copies of "Yachting Today" in the magazine racks, RUN!

This new dentist was so good that I didn't even have to slip into my 'away state of consciousness' that has had some previous dentists wide-eyed and slapping me on the cheeks to bring me back from the dead. AND they even let me have my tooth back instead of declaring "Ewww, that's bio-hazmat!" Hey, a buck (they said that was the current rate) from the tooth fairy is worth bringing it home and, frankly, if it had been in my mouth for that many decades, I resent having it called an untouchable bio-hazard. Anyway, I think I will have a long and constructive association with these new folks.
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I had been worrying as to whether the thunderstorms I had nipped through had later travelled south and caught the dogs waiting in the back yard. When I pulled up to the gate however, I found a new and welcoming face sticking out of the gate wire. "Do I know you?" I asked as I cranked the gate latches back. Apparently so for she ('she' presumably) was not restrained by the gate at all but very happy to see me and follow the truck back into the yard. Later that night, as I stepped out to check on the turkeys, she stood up and planted her front legs around my waist so I waltzed her around several times as I used to do with my beloved Rita the white dog. And I cried a little over those memories of that very special dog friend who was perhaps on loan to me from some place special and for such a short time. Eighteen years with Rita was not a long time at all.
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That was Wednesday. She is STILL here and STILL acting like she has lived here all her life. Ohhhhhhh my. But at least she's not preggers like everything else around here has been! I will have to sketch up an 'unwanted' poster to hang in the local podunk Post Office here ... soon!
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On Releasing Your Inner Redneck

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As I sat on the throne, it occurred to me that fate had dealt me an accidental but brilliant moment in redneck DAY-core. When Jimmy the Drywaller was ready to tackle one of the bedrooms here, we had to find homes for all of the sundries which had been stored there. Things ended up in any room where a speck of floor space had previously existed.
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.This Eastlake walnut piece and several stray deer antlers had all ended up in the bathroom. I had pinched these bleached-out antlers from Slim's deck up at his camp last year and brought them back to life a little with the intention of making him a chandelier. This bathroom did not come with a toilet paper holder so .... voila! The TP finally has a real classy home in the antler pile, at least until the bathroom gets a proper make-over.
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