Recently noted in the blogosphere: Grant Bailie, Flux Factory Novelist in Residence and This Date, From Henry David Thoreau's Journal.
Closing. Finally. Or maybe it's opening?
Two new moonlighting gigs seem to have materialized. After today's meeting at the desert's brand-new UC campus, it looks like yours truly will be teaching a class on blogging this fall. I'm also translating the latest book by an author who's quite famous in Turkey... even though I can't speak a syllable of Turkish. Don't ask.
Who ya gonna call? I now work in franchise development at the LeakBusters World HQ. Anikó found gainful employment a few months ago at one of the local resort casinos (built atop the water source which gives Palm Springs its name), after a short Xmas-season excursion into the wild and woolly world of retail. It's helpful that we're both back on the workaday treadmill, especially since escrow closes on our new place in one week.
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear.
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy...
Scam of the month: proposed reality show Book Millionaire.
The Root Canal From Hell. This saga began on New Year's Eve, with a simple toothache. Nothing showed up on the x-ray, but my upper-right #5 tooth was abnormally sensitive to the dentist's tapping, so it seemed worth a closer look. First, he tried to pull off the two-year-old crown, but that sucker had been installed pretty darn well, so instead he drilled up through its center. Sure enough, the root had died... and I experienced the sublime pleasure of my first root canal procedure. Happy F*cking New Year. Afterwards, he sealed up the hole and prescribed some antibiotic pills.
But a few weeks later, #5 again started acting up. Again, nothing appeared on the x-ray. So the doc drilled open the hole again, dug out the medicinal packing he had inserted earlier, and found *another* infection. Oh, goody: a SECOND root canal procedure. My next appointment was scheduled two weeks away, so I'd have a chance to gobble up more antibiotics before he replaced the temp filling.
But ol' #5 didn't want a permanent filling. Again, the x-ray was clean, so I ventured into the fun-filled world of maxillofacial surgery. After ripping open a flap in my gum, the dentist could finally see the underlying problem: infection outside the root. So he scooped out the nasty gunk, medicated my innards, closed up the gumline with seven stitches, and recommended even stronger antibiotics to save my beloved #5.
Oh, I could only dream that the story would end so simply.
The healing progressed normally until yesterday, when my entire BODY started to ache. Four months of wonder drugs evidently did not agree with my immune system, and that pesky #5 needed to go. It was my first extraction, so I joked nervously: "What, no string tied to a doorknob?" The doc gave me a courtesy laugh.
When the socket recovers, drilling will begin on the two neighboring teeth, to form the anchors for my first bridge. But today, I just feel old and toothless.
And I still haven't mentioned the most painful part: no dental insurance. Ouch.
On the bright side, I'm anticipating my first visit from the Tooth Fairy in several decades.