Here is a picture of a tree on the Pentacrest. I think it might be dying, which would make me sad because it's a great climbing tree. I like walking past it in the summer and seeing little monkey children hidden in its foliage.
So, I got off work at four to go to my dentist appointment yesterday. My dentist's office is quite quaint. It's in an old house and inside, it's all hardwood floors and lace curtains and they pipe in mellow, adult contemprorary, Sting-Dave Matthews kinds of music while they're diligently drilling your teeth. I have to say, though, that one of the dental hygenists is a little odd. I wrote about her last year on my old blog here.
Yesterday, while she was scraping nasty stuff off of my teeth, she said, "This is what your tarter looks like." And she held an instrument with a tan colored chunk on it right in my face.
"Ew," I said. I don't know how else I was supposed to respond. Has anyone else been to a hygenist who made them look at the crap she scraped off of their teeth? I guess I would like to be asked first, so I could politely decline.
Before you start thinking I'm not "Our Bodies, Ourselves" enough for you, I used to go to Emma Goldman clinic for my annual appointments when I was younger and didn't have insurance or a regular doctor. I've been asked and have agreed to take a peek at my cervix. Since, as far as I can tell, it hasn't changed any since I was nineteen, I don't really need to see it again. I worked in an ob/gyn clinic long enough to see more inner-parts and bodily secretions to last me a lifetime. So, I've decided to contact any dental or healthcare facility at which I may be seen, and ask them to kindly put something in my chart that says I decline any offers to view anything - including any earwax, kidney stones, or cyst fluid that they may extract from me. There. I think that should cover it.