The Country Dentist, The Brownie Sundae, and The Birthday Sunday...

It's amazing what I can accomplish when I have time off from work to "clean up" this place. I'm ashamed to say that I am still "unpacking" boxes from when I moved here last October..... and I have finally found things that I thought that I'd lost forever.... For one thing, I finally unpacked a box which actually contains the folder which holds all my pattern designs that I used to sell. (Oh...THAT's where they were.....) Seeing as how we're stuck in summer weather, I thought I'd show a pic here of a summer poncho I designed awhile ago, using cotton yarn, modeled by a buddy of mine. It can be knitted with yarn suited for winter wear also. (I sewed a row of seed pearls onto the collar edge but you can't see them in this pic--and there is a row of crochet along the top of the collar area):

I'd give anything if I could just continue to knit and fiddle around with pattern designs this week but ...AAARGHH.....alas--I had to go back to work....and I'm on-call again! "Dang me, dang me....." ----but NO, I WILL NOT EVEN GO THERE. The last durn time that song got stuck in my head it took three days to get it out. I finally got it out of my consciousness by forcing myself to sing the "Oompa-Loompa" song from the original "Willie Wonka and The Chocolate Factory" movie--which was no picnic in itself. And to make matters worse this week---I didn't make my "goal" of not bawling while at the dentist, although I wish I could tell you that I did. But...well... I confess--I did end up bawling in public again, sigh....right in the dreaded dentist's chair. I couldn't help it--I was scared to death. Mumsy took me--just as she's taken me to about a zillion other medical appointments. Poor thing had to drive forever to take me because the appointment was in the town where I live, and then she waited for me during the appointment so that she could shepherd me home afterwards, figuring I'd be in a state of shock. (I was very grateful because I've never been brave about medical appointments--and a dentist appointment is the absolute WORST.) This dentist is definitely a country dentist. But I chose him because of the recommendations of my buddies at work. I knew they wouldn't fail me. That's how things are done out here in the "country" ---because, unlike people in the "big city", people out in the country here rarely "look in the yellow pages". Besides, even if you did try to look in the yellow pages for something around here you wouldn't have much luck because our yellow pages are only about 25 pages long--and nobody of any importance puts their business addresses or numbers in there anyway-- because of course everybody knows where everybody else is! If you want to know where somebody is around here you just ask your next door neighbor (or a stranger on the street) and they'll say something like: "Oh, they're yonder by the grocery store about a half a block down to the left of the Tire Place." Our yellow pages usually consist only of entries like the Water Company, The Electric Company, and maybe a couple of Bail-Bondsmen... Yep, word-of-mouth is the way things are done out here. Things are just very different here than in the "big city"--and sure enough, my whole dentist experience truly was completely different from any "big city" dentist experience I'd ever had---because, remember, this is Hicktown USA.... For one thing, he's one of the only three dentists in my town. The miniscule town where I live rivals the teensy size of the town that I work in-- but at least in my own town we've got a "movie rental store", a Walmart, and a couple more fast food places. (Although I think that it's a crying shame that here in this town they decided to combine the Taco Bell with the Kentucky Fried Chicken into ONE drive-thru--can you imagine?--although I will admit that it is sometimes convenient to order a Chimichanga at the same time as ordering a Little Bucket Parfait....) (But still.....there's something WRONG with that.....) We do have a Dairy Queen here but....er...uh....well, dammit I can't go there anymore because of a temper tantrum I threw there one day. But if you will hear me out, I think you'll agree with me that I was "in the right". There I was in the Jeep,waiting in the drive-thru window at the Dairy Queen, minding my own business while they prepared my order of a hamburger, onion rings, and a "Brownie Crumble Sundae"-- ...when I witnessed with my own eyeballs the girl making my Brownie Crumble Sundae was using her bare hands to put the brownie crumbles onto my ice-cream sundae--oh yes she did!!! She had reached right into the big jar of brownie crumbles with her bare hand, grabbed a big handfull, and then sprinkled them all over my sundae! I was mortified and.... well... I'm a little ashamed to say that I hollered at her. But I had to holler to be heard all the way through my Jeep window, past the noise of the other vehicles idling in the drive-thru-lane, through the tiny Dairy Queen drive-thru window, and then past the rumblings of that huge ice cream machine that Dairy Queen's always got right there by the cash register. So here I was hollering at her through the Jeep's window like a madwoman, saying: "Well, I DECLARE!--You're not actually PUTTING those brownie crumbles onto my ice cream with your bare hands, are you? THAT IS Pure-Dee GROSS! You should use a scooper or something!" Now understand, the cars behind me in the drive-thru lane couldn't care less about my Brownie Crumble Sundae. They, like most cars waiting in drive-thru lanes, wanted me to just shut up, get my food, and hurry up and get out of their way so that they could get their food orders--never suspecting that their Brownie Crumble Sundaes would be made bare-handedly by someone that they didn't know. The whole sight of that girl dangling that handfull of brownie crumbles over my ice cream irked me so much that I decided to leave without it---so I angrily rolled up my window, put the Jeep into gear, and then "peeled rubber" out of that drive-thru lane, screeching the Jeep tires with what I hoped exhibited an "indignant pull-out"-- all while the Dairy Queen girl stared at me in amazement, still holding my sundae in one hand and brownie crumbles in the other hand. (I'm not really sure how to "indignantly pull out of a drive-thru" but I definitely made a wholehearted effort--but I'm also a little glad that the cops weren't around because I think I went "Out" the "In" lane of the whole Dairy Queen complex as I was making my grand exit.) Really, I don't think I was unreasonable about the issue. Now, I'm not accusing her of poor hygiene or anything--but I just think that it was yikky what she did. Would you want someone making your Dairy Queen Brownie Crumble Sundae with their bare hands? I don't think so! (Don't you think she should have used some sort of little scooper or something? Really!!!) (And I've never gone back there since.....) (Oh....excuse me... I got sidetracked. Back to the dentist visit.... ) Meanwhile, back at the Dentist's Office: His office is on a street next to a farm supply store which has a huge, life-sized model of a COW---yes a COW--over it's door. That dang cow is so big that you can see it all the way over to Highway 98 in the fog. In fact, when I called the dentist's office to to ask for directions the nurse simply replied: "We're next door to the big Cow" and I knew exactly where she meant. I mean, I do happen to like "truth in advertising" and everything, but that Cow makes me a little nervous. It's so lifelike that I don't want to walk under it, if you know what I mean. Not wanting to walk under something which manufactures cow-pies is kind of like the same common sense reflex that tells you that you never want to walk directly behind an asshole donkey, or you never want to bend over in front of a ram goat, or you don't yell "Shut the Hell Up!" at bulls who are bellowing at you and stomping in the dirt, or....well, you get the picture...... Anyway, I arrived at my appointment with the dentist and there were two other people also entering into the waiting room, an elderly cowboy and his cowgirl lady. He was dressed to the "cowboy nines" in 'gator cowboy boots, a lovely silver-studded belt adorned with a huge, silver rodeo "prize" belt-buckle, and a Stetson cowboy hat-- which he had reverently removed due to the presence of ladies. And he actually wore spurs on his boots! That completely surprised me because I thought, shoot, he looks too old to be rodeo'ing at his age! I wondered if he wasn't afraid of cutting people with those spurs--but I was impressed all the same. I wondered if he was a famous rodeo star who had retired in my town and just couldn't stop wearing the old jingle-jangles..... He was definitely a gentleman because he had politely held the door open for my mother and me to enter the waiting room. His lady companion was dressed in similar western clothing: "Cruel Girl" blue jeans, a western shirt, high-heeled cowgirl boots, and her blonde hair teased up into a cute, bouffant "flip" held back on one side with a cute red, white & blue glitter hair-clip. But she wasn't wearing spurs. He led her up to the check-in desk, waited while she checked in, and then escorted her back to their chairs to wait. Then I went up to the check-in desk to check in and the receptionist just waved me in, saying knowingly: "Yes, we know who you are, sugar." Well, hummph, I thought. What did that mean?--that dental phobics get some sort of bad reputation or something? But I sat down to wait my turn, my mother sitting next to me in front of the waiting room's tropical fish aquarium. I settled in to be bored by waiting. And at first I thought the two elderly cowboy people were not going to talk. But then.....the elderly cowgirl started talking to the elderly cowboy and I couldn't help overhearing.... In fact, the whole time we were waiting in that waiting room the two conversed about their church's gossip. Yahoo, I thought deliciously! Spurs AND Gossip! And I do love good gossip! And being the gossip hound that I am, I am ashamed to admit here that I failed miserably in my token attempt to try not to eavesdrop. But dang it, church gossip in a small town is usually pretty GOOD GOSSIP. I mean, some of the craziest things I've ever heard have happened in local church congregations. And being that this was a very small dental office, it was hard not to hear them conversing.... She chatted on and on to her escort, in a very pretty Texan drawl, telling him all about her church friends and her church's gossip. I became enthralled. I didn't want to be found out so I pretended to become very interested in the aquarium behind my mother's head-- but I was really leaning over just a little so I could hear their gossip all the better. (Plus, I was fascinated with looking at the guy's spurs. ) My mother would have wanted to strangle me for the rudeness of eavesdropping-- but I deflected her attention by telling her that every single fish in that aquarium was staring at her--and when she turned to look behind her to see if that was true, indeed they were!--which is very strange for fish behavior, but then, my mother is a very beautiful lady to look at. She started tapping on the glass of the aquarium and talking sweetly to the fish..... so I went back to my eavesdropping. I REALLY started to get interested when the lady got to the point of her story about her church preacher's recent declaration of an event that he had apparently invented called "Birthday Sunday". She recounted all the details about how this preacher had just "irritated the heck out of her" by declaring to the church's members that on one Sunday of each month that he would ask the entire congregation of people present that anybody who'd had a birthday in that past month to please "stand up and receive birthday wishes". She complained to her companion: "Well, don't you just KNOW, but I had already told that ole Pastor Buddy-Joe that I was most certainly NOT gonna EVAH stand up and announce mah age! As I live and breathe, a True Lady NEVAH tells her age-- and a Real Gentleman wouldn't ask it! And dang it--I just flat ain't evah gonna tell. Because if you tell it just once--even just once---then you can nevah lie about again!" Her cowboy companion considered this for a minute. Then he said: "But why would you ever lie about anything in church, for goodness' sakes? Girl, you ain't 'sposed to lie on the Lord's Day and you dang well know it! You can lie on any other day of the week but not on Sunday. It says so in the Bible, right there in the Book of Leviticus somewheres." But she was not to be swayed and had a quick retort: "Well I'll have you know, sir, that I happen to know the Book of Leviticus well--and there happens to be in there a few certain important rule loop-holes where the Lord most certainly DOES NOT require A True Lady to be forced to do certain things on ANY day of the week! Especially about her being forced to tell her age, dang it!" Now, this definitely got my attention--not because I have been lying about my age, but because my own mother is FOREVER quoting "rules" of behavior to me about one thing or another from the Book of Leviticus when she thinks I've done wrong! I started to realize that maybe I definitely needed to bone up on my Sunday School education and re-read the Book of Leviticus--to learn for myself just what IS or ISN'T a "rule" or a "loophole for True Ladies". For example, could it be true that there are truly behavioral loop-holes for True Ladies? Because if so, then I just may find out that not only is it legal for a lady to lie about her age, then it just might be perfectly legal for someone to holler at Dairy Queen girls who use their bare hands to put brownie crumbles onto your Brownie Crumble Sundae.....and also that it just may not be such a terrible thing to eavesdrop on elderly rodeo cowboys and cowgirls in dentist offices' waiting rooms.....and who knows what ELSE!!?? HEY, you know what? I pondered----Just maybe....just MAYBE...maybe I'm not NEARLY as sinful as I think I am! This thought was exciting my brain with a whole realm of possibilities (especially the lying issue)--(although I will admit here that I thought it might be prudent to first find out the "qualifications" for being a True Lady) --and I will admit that some mildly guilty thoughts about my behavior in the dentist office's waiting room did enter my mind-- But I will stand my ground here about one thing---that about telling my mother that every single fish in that aquarium was staring at her---because that was no lie---they were staring at her. (You can ask her if you don't believe me.) Anyway, the lady kept on telling the story about the Birthday Sunday in her church. And it was starting to get really interesting because she went on to exclaim: "And would you buh-leeve it, but when Pastor Buddy-Joe put out the call for the birthday people to stand up--and of course I wouldn't stand up as one of the birthday people--then...well then... that ole Pastor Buddy-Joe went right up to that dad-blame podium and announced right in front of the entire congregation that "somebody in here isn't standing up like they should be"--- and I just wanted to snatch him BALD!" ...and right then the nurse came to call the lady back for her appointment. "Go get 'er, girl!" her man told her with a playful slap on her butt. She just laughed and sashayed away, swinging her hips, her cowgirl boots clicking on the floor. I envied her bravery...and was sorry I wouldn't get to hear the rest of the Birthday Sunday story. Drat. Because I had really wanted to hear whether or not she had ever gotten her chance to "snatch him bald". Just then another nurse came and called for me. "Oh, BLESS YOUR HEART!" my mom exclaimed sympathetically. Dismally, I followed the nurse to my doom. The cowboy simply remarked: "Are there any Reader's Digests in that basket over there? I always read the Reader's Digests whenever I wait in waiting rooms." I watched him walk over to a big basket of reading materials and sure enough, there were a bunch of Reader's Digests in there. As he settled in his chair to read and I followed my nurse, I found myself wishing to High Heavens that I were the one sitting there reading a Reader's Digest while someone else was heading towards my inevitable date with a root canal..... So the nurse took me (well, maybe she had to shove me a little) back to the Dentist's Dungeon, and sure enough--she stuck me in THE CHAIR....aaaargh..... and then she placed that durn BIB on me. I was so nervous that I placed a death grip on the chair arms and held on for dear life. I wanted to run screaming from the room, bib trailing behind me---but it was not to be. I was trapped. Sure enough, tears started to form in my eyes. (Lord but how I wish that for just ONE TIME in my life that I wouldn't start bawling at times like this in public--it's just plain undignified.) The dentist came in, took one look at me and smiled. Noticing my death grip on the chair arms, he teased: "Are you strapped in good enough, my dear?" "Oh, Doctor Rick!" the nurse chided. "The poor little thing's nervous as a cat." But then she said the magical words: "Sweetie, are you going to need the laughing gas?" DANG! I'd forgotten about the laughing gas! Oh Glory Glory Hallelujah, but suddenly there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I enthusiastically told the nurse that YES I would need the laughing gas-- and so she obligingly stuck that laughing gas nose-gadget mask thing onto my nose--- and turned it on. And soon enough I was feeling slightly tingly and silly.....in fact, I started calming down. Oh thank goodness, I thought, breathing the laughing gas in and out.....in and out..... in and out.... And then.....I started feeling well...a little more...er... friendlier. And talkative. In fact, I started feeling a LOT more friendly and talkative. Hey! Suddenly I was happy to be there! What nice people these were, the nurses, the other patients, the dentist, the fish in the aquarium, the Cow next door...... I vaguely heard the dentist ask me if I was ready and I slurred: "Sure, Doc!" And I have no idea what happened after that. Later..... The next thing I remember is the nurse, trying not to giggle, taking that stupid bib off for me as I tried to wobble my way out of that room and....well.....she seemed to be acting a little strangely, working her face into all sorts of contortions in order to try not to laugh for some reason--but I COULD TELL that she did really want to laugh! And then I started getting a bad feeling about things.... And so I asked her: "Why are you laughing? Did I do something wrong?" Then she finally allowed herself to laugh out loud. (Now I was REALLY starting to get worried.) I kept gazing at her with what I hoped was a "steely questioning look" and then she finally took a deep breath and said: "Well, when we gave you the laughing gas you kind of got a little er.....loopy, there". "So?" I replied belligerently ( starting to get even more worried now)...... She continued: "You actually told the dentist that he would look good in a Stetson hat!" With that she burst into a complete laughing fit and I had to wait a minute till she could compose herself. Miserably, I asked her to continue--I simply HAD to know what else I'd done--and so I asked her plainly: "Okay, what else did I do?" and then listened as she went on: "Well, anyway, Dr. Rick, he just started working on ya-- but then he had to stop for a few minutes one time so he could get another piece of equipment he wanted out of the tray....and then....and then you started mumbling something under your breath---and so we listened real close to hear what it was that you wanted to say--- but you were singing!" Oh Lord Have Mercy On My Soul, I thought. "Er.....just exactly what WAS I singing?" I asked quietly, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me. She giggled some more and said: "It sounded just like you were singing that old country song about naughty cowboys! You know the one--that song that goes 'I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle'--and it made Dr. Rick go into a fit of laughing! He actually couldn't work for a minute because he was laughing so hard! But you finally quit singing when I cranked up that laughing gas a little more!" Um....I went to go pay my co-payment and meet the welcoming arms of my mother, finally getting to leave the dreaded dentist's office--yet unfortunately wearing a raging, embarassed blush on my face-- and also ruefully wishing to the High Heavens that I HADN'T been able to finally get the "Dang Me Song" out of my head that had plagued me previously afterall.....

....and do you want to know what the worst and most humiliating part about it is? It's that I've actually got to go back there in three weeks for the required "second procedure" of a root canal---that second appointment where they stick that crown thing onto your tooth.......

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JINGLE, JANGLE, JINGLE (Frank Loesser / Joseph Lilley) (Yippee yay! There’ll be no wedding bells for today.... ) I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle As I go riding merrily along And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" And that song ain't so very far from wrong Oh, Lillie Belle Oh, Lillie Belle Though I may have done some foolin' This is why I never fell I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle As I go ridin' merrily along And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" And that song ain't so very far from wrong Oh, Mary Ann Oh, Mary Ann Though we done some moonlight walkin' This is why I up and ran I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle As I go ridin' merrily along And they sing, "Oh, ain't you glad you're single" And that song ain't so very far from wrong So I'll jingle on along.........