On Losing My Wisdom

I recognize this has been a long hiatus.  Graduate school will do that to one's free time for writing fun things.  

I have always had what I consider to be practical teeth.  I know they aren't the kind of teeth that will win me Miss America (this was the first indicator to me at the age of 12 that I would never be Miss America.  Not the swimsuit competition and their stick thin frames, or their hair that quadrupled my amount of hair... it was their gummy smiles and large teeth.  Whatever.  As long as I knew that wasn't a reality and decided a college education would be necessary in my life).  They aren't particularly cavity prone and although my dental hygienist once described them as having "a certain roughness" about them, we have generally been on good terms.  I never had to have braces, I've never had a tooth pulled, nothing.  Until Friday.

I'm going to be honest.  I am ticked off at evolution on this one.  FOR THE LOVE.  Obviously humans don't need these things anymore, and I'm sure one day they will stop existing.  I have friends who had no wisdom teeth, or only half of their wisdom teeth (as in two, not halves of each of the four, that would be gross) and I find it ridiculous that I have all four and all in compromising positions.  EVOLUTION. What the heck?? I have defended you to my people all this time...and THIS IS WHAT YOU LEAVE ME WITH?  We are on rocky terms my darwinian friend. Rocky, rocky terms.  

Regardless, on Friday, I will forgo my usual schedule of yelling at seventh graders to stop touching each other, starve and dehydrate myself for 8 hours, fall into a deep sleep and wake up in what I am told is agonizing pain and misery.  And cheeks that are reminiscent of Alvin and the gang, this is an important one not to forget.  

I will be honest, I am not afraid of my teeth hurting.  I consider myself pretty tough in these regards (my mother would probably tell you otherwise).  Mostly I am concerned about the anesthesia talk I am going to regale my father with on the way home.  Not that I have anything to hide, but what if I start talking about something weird, or pull a David after dentist.  My students have requested a video.  I have politely refused.  (Polite? Who am I kidding.  There is no polite with middle schoolers, it doesn't exist).  My other concern is the theory I developed at 14 when I decided that probably everyone was alert during surgery, but they just don't remember it when they wake up.  

Ah well, I probably should have had them taken out when I was 18 like a normal person, but no.  I had to wait until I was 25 and "have tingling in my jaw and mouth for up to 8 weeks" according to my chipper optimistic oral surgeon, because "since you are an adult, your roots have fully formed." Oh good.  

This should be fun.  

Goodbye to a Good Friend

Hey friends! It has been forever.  Again, I know.  Sorry.  I swear, it's just because my kids this year just aren't as funny as before and I don't want to bore you.

However, I have had a major life change and I thought you all should know about it...

Part of my identity has been ripped away in the form of a certain bright blue eyesore who didn't so much like moving down the road anymore.

It's true.  I traded in The Whale/The Bubble/The Barbie Car/The whateverothernicknameyoucalledit and got a new car,  which has all the nice things that I'm not used to...like a radio.  (see here)

I won't lie to you, it was a very emotional experience.  I might have shed a tear.  When I step back to think about it, that car has seen me through a lot! I've driven it since I was a senior in high school.  It has seen 4 different boyfriends.  It has also seen 4 different boyfriends who all hated it with equal gusto, not to mention every other male who ever saw it.    It was not a very manly car.  It was the taxi for all my friends in high school and college because somehow I always ended up driving.  It saw me through some great times, and it saw me through some really sad times.  It also saw me through some really mad times when she wasn't behaving like she should.

She drove me to my first day of my senior year of high school, my first day of college, my first job real job interview and the first day of my teaching career. She watched me cry all the way home from my college graduation. She got me home safely when I had to drive home suddenly from Michigan because my grandmother had passed away.

I ran her into a bush, smacked her into a brick wall and parked her so badly that people have commented on more than one occasion.  But she didn't care, she wasn't a judger.

So here's to you UK blue 2003 Suzuki Aerio.  I consider you the essence of my adolescence and your trade in (and let's be honest...they gave me WAY more money than they should have for you) marks it's end and my retreat into the land of an old lady who owns a cat.  You were the best.  I will not soon forget our time together.