The lady who worked on my teeth today looked like Jane Goodall. I kept thinking that as she poked and prodded and spouted out numbers to her assistant, who dutifully typed them into a database. She had ZERO bedside manner and was extremely scientific. She didn’t know what to do with me and would just stare at me blankly when I thought I was saying something funny or trying to make conversation. Blink Blink.

The whole thing took 40 minutes and was just like a regular visit to the dentist. She pushed on my gums and poked my teeth and then put some red stuff on my teeth to measure plaque. Gross. I was rinsing my mouth out later and couldn’t help but smile a ghoulish smile in the mirror. It looked like I had just bitten off the head of something and had blood on my teeth. Tres Halloweeny. They told me I qualified (which made me feel like I was accepted into MENSA or something) and that I could come back 4 separate times to do more measuring and trying out of a plaque squirter type of thing. It would pay $140. BUT, the next time it involves not brushing for 24 hours. You know what? No thanks. It’s in Snoqualmie, I’d have to find someone to watch the munchkins and frankly, it’s not worth my time. The thrill is over.

I came home to find the front door wide open (damn door) and Kimberly the house cleaner extraordinaire upstairs scrubbing away in the bathroom. Her car was parked all crooked on the street as she explained to me she was afraid of the driveway because it was so steep. She left me 2 messages alerting me of this fact the day before. She’s a nice lady. Crazy as a yard bird but a nice lady and she did a great job.

I watched James Frey on Oprah and it made me want to read A Million Little Pieces all over again. I’m a little annoyed that my reading the book coincided with Oprah picking it as her book of the month because I feel like it can’t be mine anymore.(not that it ever was…) I love when I read a book and it’s all mine just for the short time that I have with it. Now I feel everywhere I look there is someone squawking about the book, ruining it for me. Somehow taking away how powerful it was to me. I know it sounds dumb. I’m the same way about movies (back me up, Meg). If I go see a movie and I really really loved it nothing ruins it more for me than a squawker. The person who, when I stand up having just started to digest the movie and what I thought about it, starts re enacting everything and talking about favorite parts and quoting it. Along the lines of movies too…a strange quirk I have is that if I really love a movie, I usually can’t see it again. Ever. I loved Lost In Translation so much that you can’t get me to watch it again. The Kimberlings lent me their copy and I never watched it for fear that what I felt when I saw it the first time would be lost if I saw it again.

Anyhoo. Peter is out with the boys. The house smells of cleaning product and banana bread, which I made tonight. The kids are asleep. I can hear the rain on the roof. The dog is sleeping on my feet and I feel good. Life is Good.

Declan Padden, you are loved, little man and thought of often.