Teething Trouble

I've been going to the same dentist for years but haven't had a regular hygienist. I would get cleaned by anyone and everyone. It was never pleasant but I was easy. I thought that is what cleanings should feel like--until I fell into Marsha's chair. It was hygiene heaven. She made my mouth marvel. She was gentle and careful and thorough. She made great suggestions. It was my first time with her and I felt cheated for all these years that I had been missing out on that level of care. When I booked my return visit, I made a special request for Marsha! I was finally excited for a cleaning in nearly 18 years of dental visits.
Wanting to be sure that I would be treated to Marsha's ministrations, I called my dentist's office the day before my cleaning to confirm my time with Marsha. I was looking forward to my teeth spa. I was not prepared for the news. Masha was gone. Retired. She'd taken her gentle hands and generous smile and left. What I felt was beyond disappointment. My teeth felt grief and a deep loss of a fleeting but profound love! I had to fight my selfishness. After all, Marsha was an older lady who had suffered from some serious medical problems. She left to take it easier. But here I was, thinking about myself,crushed and devastated!
Reluctantly, practically, I had to agree to be seen by their temp. Who's ever heard of such a thing. This should have been a red flag! What's wrong with this woman that she can't find full time anywhere?
I found out once I was reclined, mouth agape under the bright lights. "Oh Marsha" was all I could moan silently. If I had one shot at the fountain of youth, I would have gladly baptised Marsha to bring her back to full youth and health.
I didn't trust this girl--and that's what she was. Barely in her twenties and scrawny. Didn't look life her life experience would fill a bucket. That lack of experience showed up as she proceeded to attack my plaque! Stab, stab, jab, jab. She acted as if she were in a heavy weight bout with a boxer and not engaged in the delicate business of caring for my teeth. I thought for a minute she thought my gums were a voodoo doll and she was getting revenge on a nameless enemy.
By the end of the ordeal, I could hardly speak. She did a good job but the ends did not justify the means. I am due for another cleaning soon but I refuse to be back in her chair. I didn't complain that day, but if I have to face her the next time, you can bet I will have a thing or two to say.
©2007. all rights reserved

It's for the birds

A few days ago, my husband called me very excitedly, whispering into the telephone. At first I thought something was wrong with him and I almost hung up and dialled 911.
Here is what he was whispering about. He was witness to the moment when a baby bird that had been incubated and hatched on the rafter above our deck, became fully fledged.
For weeks we had been watching two birds, each one taking turns to care for the other or sit on the egg. One would bring a grasshopper for the other, or bring an additional twig to shore up the nest. Life in it's simple form right in the middle of a busy city.
We were honored that these birds chose our deck, peeling paint and all, to bring their chick into the world. We hope that they felt safe and welcome here. We hope they will come back.
This is the moment just before they flew off into the wilds of the city. I am pleased to report they have already returned to visit.

©2007. all rights reserved

Tomatomania

This is my first crop of tomatoes. Beautiful, aren't they? A few varieties of heirlooms and hyrids. Lemon Boys, Japanese Trifle Black, Black Brandywine, Encanted, San Marzano and a few others. The Lemon Boys are actually quite lemony. They are, as Martha Stewart would say, "a good thing." And rather delicious. Here they are in their full glory.

I planted them toward the end of April after having stocked up at a $3 seedling sale. It was a great deal I thought--$18 for six plus five free ones. What I didn't calculate however were the other costs. As I didn't have a proper garden I had to buy pots and potting soil and organic plant food, and the tomato stakes. So rightly we are looking here at nearly $100 worth of tomatoes. Not that I am quibbling about the money, mind you, but I reckon these plants better maximise their yield and give over bushels and bushels.

I am rather surprised that they have done so well considering I have never felt particularly blessed with a green thumb. In fact I have been nursing a low thumb esteem as my mother is rather the master gardener and my middle sister seems to have followed in her footsteps.
I have killed quite a few cactus in my time. But this tomato crop has boosted my confidence a bit in the garden department.

In truth, this is my second successful harvest. The first one was nearly 30 years ago, when as as little girl, I threw some left-over corn kernels in the ground. I was delighted at the results. They grew and flourished. I don't remember if I ate the corn or not. I only remember that shortly after they had broken through the earth, my mother had our garden-boy/yard helper, Errol, transplant them into her green house filled with anthurium. Sadly, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in June of 1976, on my sister's birthday, Errol met a sad end in the water reservoir where only the brave boys swam. Even the best swimmer in the village could not save him. It would be years before we recovered from the shock, and many more before I set foot at the site.

It's been many summers since and now again. My tomatoes are in full fruit and so I delight in the wonder of the ability to grow things, to be a steward for some living thing and to enjoy the literal fruits of my labour.

©2007. all rights reserved