Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Braces, Bicycles, Broken Brackets, and Biographies

Ah, Wednesday. Blog Day. There is a song by Morrissey (Formerly of the Smiths) that is titled "Every Day is like Sunday". I wish every Day was a blog day.


My beautiful daughter took that leap into adolescence known as brace face on Tuesday of this week. This is a right of passage that I never new, nor did Donna. So we were not "braced" for the resultant fallout from Sar. Poor girl got it tough it seems. From her description, her orthodontist was trained by the same sadist my dentist was. (e.g. Steve Martin in "Little Shop").


It wasn't enough that she had to have them all put on, but within one hour of when she had them installed, if that is the term, one of her brackets busted off. Or perhaps came unglued is a better term. I'm sorry, unglued was the description of Donna when she heard the part had broken.


Needless to say, Sar had to go back in for an adjustment of sorts today. While they were repairing the broken brackets, they noticed that her lower front gum looked like hamburger. Evidently this is not normal. Again, not knowing what to expect, I figured it was just her complaining. Hows that for "Mr. Sensitive". If she was under my care, she'd be drooling through the hole in her lip by now. Hopefully I won't be the focus of some future therapy session for her. (I love you hon! Oh, and you shouldn't be reading this.)


How I lucked out with not having braces is beyond me. It hit 4 out of 7 kids in my family. I think as punishment for that, God gave me the bad dental habits that led to all these fillings I'm having fun with as I stumble into middle age. I think God does have a great sense of humor, and I mean to have a chat with him about some of it when I get there. Hopefully this conversation happens later than sooner; else the joke is TRULY on me.


The new bike is working out like a dream. Other than some butt cramps from a bad seat that I replaced tonight, I haven't had any complaints about it. The seat I upgraded to tonight is a slightly larger Gel seat, that I'm certain would be the scorn of any serious biker. You know what? I don't care. I'm 47 years old and if you don't like my bike seat, I'll shoot you in the knee caps.


Which leads me to my next point. I think at 45 you stop caring about some really irrelevant things. Washing my car for example. I used to be pretty good about it. Not weird good, just pretty good.


Well all that changed a couple years ago. Now the only time I wash the truck is when I can't see out the passenger windows. Is this a bad thing I ask myself? Am I a bad person? Should I seek professional help? Maybe a lithium pill or something. I'm not sure, but I do know that until I care or find time, I'm not going to worry about bug carcasses on my vehicle so much any more. I once saw a bumper sticker that read: "A clean car is the sign of a sick mind". I now understand.


What else stopped mattering at 45?



  • A meticulous lawn (not that I ever got there anyway)

  • Worrying if I went over 3000 mi. between oil changes

  • Nicks in the paint of previously mentioned vehicle(s).

  • Sweating the forecast.

  • That my eyebrows have decided to take their own path.

What matters more at 47 (2 years later):



  • Spending time with friends and family

  • Sending sympathy cards to grieving people

  • Volunteering for church and community events

  • Hugging kids who won't want to hug much in a couple years

  • Enjoying the moment, and every day that isn't -10 below

Finishing up, a week from today starts my writing workshop. I'm still psyched! I've picked out a few pieces of work compiled previously that are rough, to put it nicely. I plan to roll them into the BWCA paper I started a few years ago. Not really a full biography, but kind of a memoir of the BWCA trips my brothers and I took.


I'm not sure what to do with it once it's done, but feel that it needs to come out of me, so this seems like a good outlet. I may share it with the brothers eventually, but am not sure. It's one of those things that I guess artists struggle with, (not that I claim to be one) is art for art's sake. I do it because I enjoy it and it makes me more complete I guess, for lack of a better description.


Well, it has been a blast. I can't wait till Sat/Sun to write again, so check back then because now I'm...



Blogging off.

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