Coming out of dentists office, you feel like you have a new lease on life. They take these hard things jammed in your skull and they actually understand it, and can heal it. I mean, never more than in the dentists office am I glad that I was born in the 20th century. Talk about technology. My radiologist … I told her she needed a remote control, because she kept walking into another room to take the picture. She informed methat she would get exposed to too much radiation if she was in the room as much as she is for one consultation. For such a small real estate, your mouth, there are tons and tons of tools. Different nozzle heads for cleaning, for propping up your mouth, just everything.

Usually I come out of there with a dizzy feeling from nitrous, where under its spell I have convinced myself I’m in love with somebody or that I saw God. Today I came out thinking about the new type of fluoride treatment I’m going to use, and what in my regular lifestyle is so wrong that I have to go back for recurring appointments until I’m 75. The coffee in the morning? That time a bf stayed over and I forgot to floss?

Being rather low maintenance, my mouth history is high maintenance. It has folders dedicated to it. People mull over it. The history of my teeth, their ups and downs, their travails, I get to reintroduce to so many people. Here are the highlights:
– told I have very “immature” teeth, 4 or 5 years younger than the rest of me
– series of adolescent accidents that knocked them around age: 11
– infected cap creates huge pounding pain at night, caused by aerobics class! age: 16
– that period of feeling immortal and taking awful care of teeth (caffeine and alcohol figure significantly) age: 24-28
– radiologists complain about “high” and “narrow” jaw, x-rays are a pain for them
– eat some popcorn in airport on the way to europe for 2 months, chip molar! 27
– wisdom teeth not doing too hot, they get yanked 28
– hereditary grinding noticed by docs 28
– jaw starts locking in dentist chair 31
– TMJ guy takes a look-see, gives me weird drugs to relax the masseter, and in general the drugs have scarier side effects then just having the dental work done in bursts of 5 minutes. 31
– salivary gland infection causes the greatest pain in life, along with sleeplessness, regular antibiotics work. Caused by blockage (?) or dehydration, unclear. Common cold could have done it. 31
– eat a pretzel, chip a fililng. 33

(sigh)

So first time ever jaw has not locked in dentists chair should cause joy and leaping about, but instead just kind of like “ho hum” I have about 30 more visits to make.

I did have kind of a hack job dentist when I was younger. He should have marched me over to an orthodontist like the rest of my middle class playmates. INstead he did a wire job and pushed me off to get Micky D with my mom (our post-dental treat, don’t ask me why).

I think it’s particularly white trash having bad teeth. In a year or so no one may be able to tell I have bad teeth since i’m getting the front one re-capped. Then I can no longer slouch in clubs and act like eminem, darnit.

So anyways, the walk through North Beach during the midwmorning has that feeling like you’re playing hookey. Differences noted: Middle aged Chinese women sword class going on Washington Park it’s a matter of moments until one of them hits another. They are super uncoordinated.

More kids at the playground behind the library. They are all bundled up and in a freezing in-the-shade playground.

More tourists ever seen at one time with maps arguing with each other:
Two middle aged people, he has the suitcase, she has the map:
She: “If we walk on the other side of the street, it’s sunnier.”
He: “But we’re going to this place, on this side of the street.”
Two young women arguing in overly warm outfits:
Hat: “But we want to go to Union Square, and that’s Union.”
No Hat: “But we walked up Columbus this way!”
(Adorable waiter gives someone relief) “Hey there, where are you going.” Listens for a bit… “Stockton is Chinatown, not Union Square” (is he really helping though? Or trying to pick them up? Will they make a rendez-vous?)

I spotted some neighborhood poeple. I’m not sure why I think they’re locals. The brisk, fast way they walk around the complicated 6-street intersections? The no-nonsense urban footwear? The walker’s physique? (generous hip area, strong legs, arms a pumpin’)