Wee Geordie

I recently bought a new puppy. The last thing I really needed was another animal as I already have far too many, but I had been missing my darling big, black, woobie Hounslow terribly. It's not that I expected that he could ever be replaced, but I needed something to fill the hole he left in my world. Hounslow of course was a black lab. I've owned many over the years, but this time I opted for something different, a border collie. I already have a border collie named Emma and she's about the smartest dog that ever walked the earth. In any case, I scoured the web searching for the perfect dog to add to my canine crew. First I searched the SPCA and the Border Collie Rescue Society. No luck there as they won't adopt out Border Collies to homes with children and I have three rugrats 3-4 days a week. So I went through all the pet adds in the buy and sell. We ended up choosing a puppy from a family up in Bridge Lake. The pup's parents were both champions of sheep trials, and while I own no sheep (thank god) I thought that it would be nice to have a dog with winning bloodlines. Not only that, but he was a steal for a purebred at only $250 (Emma cost me $350) and they delivered him right to our doorstep. We named him Geordie.
All went well for half a week.
Then Geordie met Jeffie.
It was not a fair match.
Jeffie outweighs Geordie by at least 50%.
He's bigger.
And meaner.
And has huge claws.
I'm talking about a cat who once sent a grown man to the hospital to get stitches.
So my bargain basement border collie has turned into a nearly $1000 investment. He's been to the regular vet once, and a specialised (read exceedingly costly) veterinary opthamologist twice. He's going back to see her in January. At this point in time we don't yet know if he will need surgery, as Jeffie's claws apparently went right through the iris. And the cornea. And then the lens. Poor Geordie has a cataract, which the vet says may heal on it's own as he is so very young. Thankfully the cornea is almost completely healed. So to all those out there who read my blog please say a little prayer to whatever gods or deities you believe in that my little puppy will heal his cataract all on his own without surgery. We appreciate your kind thoughts.

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Another Little Rant...

I went to see Apocolypto on it's opening weekend. I wanted to go see Blood Diamond, but my friend Nic refused as he doesn't like war movies... I guess he didn't know what Apocolypto was about. In any case. I went to the movie despite the fact it was directed by Gibson (who I have to say has revealed himself to be a less than impressive person in recent years). Overall I thought it was a good movie. A bit too bloody perhaps. One thing really bothered me though. Before the movie starts there is a quote: “A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself from within. ” The implication being that the reason the Mayans fell to the Spanish is because their civilization was in decay. I cannot say whether or not this is true (it's not like I was there and I am not an expert on Mayan civilization past or present), but I suspect that a civilization as complex and advanced as the Mayans was not conquered due to any internal moral deficiency (or the moral superiority of the Spanish), but rather due to the new diseases introduced by Europeans, and the superior weapons technology they possessed. It set a bad tone for the movie, even though you don't see a single white face (at least not an obvious one) in the movie until the end. The atrocities perpetuated against the aboriginal peoples of the Americas can not be justified by claiming native civilizations were self-destructing. It's simply not true.
o.k.
I feel a bit better now.

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Just a Little Rant

Can someone out there please explain to me why it is people put little quotes at the end of their e-mails? Honestly, I really don't understand why. I mean, I'm not stupid. I get that it's supposed to provoke deep thought on the part whoever it is who gets the email. But have you ever noticed that it's the people who forward emails that say crap like "if you pass this on to all your TRUE friends you'll win a million dollars, and if you don't forward this to everyone in your address book in the next 5 seconds Santa Claus will die" or something equally vapid that end their messages with a deep thought? There it is, at the bottom of the email: "Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable" -Sydney J. Harris (I should probably know who this person is, but I don't). Honestly. I mean really. What. The. Fuck.
People who pass on retarded emails like that should be barred from having "deep thoughts" as part of their email signatures.
O.K.
I'm going to bed now because it's 1:30 in the morning, and I'm sick. And tired.

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The Weather Outside...

Oh the weather outside is frightful... This week we had the first snowstorm of the season. In less than 24 hours, more than 18 inches of snow fell. It was also pretty darn cold out for Deroche at a chilly -13° C. More than -2o° C with the windchill. I stayed at home for 48 hours straight (unheard of in normal circumstances). 48 long, boring, can't-even-get-to-the-store-to-buy-milk hours. Don't get me wrong. I like snow. Snow is one of the few things I miss about Northern Ontario (where I lived for 5 LONG years). Of course, when it snowed there it had the annoying habit of sticking around for months... Still, every time it snows here it creates absolute havoc. People panic, drive off the road and flip their cars. In our defense, the snow in the Lower Mainland is nothing like the dry, powdery stuff that falls in the rest of the country. Oh no. We get wet, slippery snow, frequently followed by freezing rain (as if the weather gods suddenly remember that it's not supposed to be cold enough to snow in lotus-land). To make things worse, cities and municipalities have tiny budgets for snow removal, and if we get a really big dump of snow there aren't enough plows to keep the roads clear. I have, however, come up with a fool-proof method of ensuring it doesn't snow again this season: I am buying a pair of winter boots. The second I spend good money on something, it's guaranteed that I will not need whatever it is I have bought. You can all thank me at the end of the snow-free-rest-of-the-winter.
I have included a picture of my back deck. I suppose I really could have put the patio furniture away sooner. In fact, the reason it probably snowed in the first place is that I left the furniture out. If I had made the effort to put it in the barn, there would have been no need to do so, because it never would have snowed...

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The Grand Master of Indian Trivia

I have come to realise that a lot of people have an overinflated opinion of their own intelligence. Fortunately for the sake of my ego I am forever meeting people who are way smarter than I. In fact, it happens on a pretty regular basis. Just recently I met a fellow by the name of Tim. He is a lawyer from England and was travelling in India, apparently something he had thought of doing for many years. Tim was (in my mind) the quintessential Englishman: quiet and reserved but with an absolutely wicked sense of humour. Tim is also uber-intelligent. Not to say that he was vain in any way. Quite the opposite in fact. Tim's rather uncanny ability to retain information came to light one night when we were having a friendly little game of India trivia. There were very few questions that Tim couldn't answer. How many times does the average Indian driver honk his horn in a kilometre? What, don't know the answer? Ask Tim. I'm sure he would be happy to let you know (the answer is in fact 15). What day did India become a country of one billion? Tim knew that too (sadly I have already forgotten). No matter how obscure the question Tim was rarely without an answer. Needless to say he won the game. Thank God I was on his team. Otherwise my poor fragile ego wouldn't have survived...
The picture here was taken at dinner in Amritsar. We had left Chamba at an ungodly hour and travelled all day, first by jeep and then by train in order to get to there. Upon arrival it was straight off to the Golden Temple. We didn't get back to the hotel until about 10:00 p.m. Tim was looking remarkably fresh, all things considered...

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Bill

I wrote a blog about Bill and sent it off to him to ask if it was o.k. to publish. He never answered. So either:

1. he doesn't check his email all that much
2. he hated what I wrote
3. he really doesn't like me
4. or all of the above.

So I won't say anything about Bill.

I'll let him speak for himself.

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Mountains & Mystics

Well... This was the third and final leg of my trip... Saw alot of mountains. Not so sure about the mystics. I have to say the hellish thing about group tours is travelling with people to whom you would not give the time of day under normal circumstances. Although it is quite possible that I am being exceedingly ungracious. My fellow world travellers were nice people for the most part. In terms of places visited this tour was excellent, with only one town that I didn'tmuch enjoy. I'm not too sure what I expected of this trip (the Dalai Lama? He wasn't in town...), but the people I met along the way were charming and friendly (the glaring exception being the evil Tibetan child who punched me in McLeod Ganj) which I have discovered is the norm in India. Of all the tours I did this is the only one I would consider repeating.
The picture is of Christ Church in Shimla.

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An Indian Education

O.K.

What I learned in India...

• The Vegemite song. Well, most of it anyways...
• To exercise patience.
• Never, ever visit a predominantly Muslim town during Ramadan. Unless you happen to enjoy waking up to the sound of exceedingly loud Muslim prayer and music at 3:30 a.m. In which case, might I recommend Chanderi, India.
• Don't trust the Indian version of the Oxford English Dictionnary. It's not exactly an exhaustive listing of the English language...
• How it feels to really stick out from the crowd.
• No matter where I go, there I am (o.k., I know that sounds cheesy. It is nontheless true)
• British Airways sucks (actually I learned this en route to India, but whatever)
• Never throw a hissy fit in a hotel lobby without first putting on your shirt. You look like a total idiot and lose all credibility... (no, I did not learn this first hand.. it was still a valuable lesson.)
• Threatening to not pay someone is not a good way to get better service...(once again, a lesson learned by watching someone else's bad behaviour...)
• Apparently I am a walking disaster... Injuries /illnesses suffered in a short 6 week span in India and Nepal: cold, food poisoning, blisters, car sickness, scalded hand, sprained ankle, perforated eardrum (although technically speaking this happened on the way home. I think we were flying past Tashkent when I realized my ear was crusted with blood)
• How to play cricket, after a fashion...
• Cricket is not as easy as it appears at first blush...
• I suck at cricket...
• Not all Canadians are nice (o.k., so I knew this before I left. But I was reminded in India...)
• I'm not overly skilled at scrabble.
• Indian men are hot... Well some of them anyways... Honestly, I wouldn't have suspected...
• It is possible to climb a very steep hill with a sprained ankle. Just suck it up, baby...
• Some of the nicest people in this world are American... It's mind boggling, really...
• Australians are pretty damn funny...
• When crossing a busy road in India, don't make direct eye contact with the drivers. They seem to take this as encouragement to aim their vehicles straight at you...
• If you have to take an auto-rickshaw at night make sure the headlights work before you get in. Make sure the driver turns them on...
• There is only one kind of squash in Australia... Everything else is a pumpkin. Go figure.

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Home again...

I'm finally back home in Deroche after 6 weeks on the road... Well, actually it doesn't seem like all that long a time. Less than 24 hours after getting home the power went out... 72 hours later, still no power... I should have stayed in India, at least the power outages there don't seem to last longer than a few hours...
Leaving home is a great reminder of things that are important to you. There are alot of things I missed while away (and as I seem to have grown fond of listing things)...

My girls

Anastasia& Katie

Alexandra

My car (I know, I know, it's not very flash... but it is paid for...)

My dogs

Emma
&
Eli

My mountains...

My bed... I really, really missed my bed...

My highspeed internet connection... Oh yeah, still don't have that... no power... dammit...

My kayak...

My fiddle...

Beef... I know, that sounds wrong somehow but it's true...
I suppose I could be a vegetarian and survive...
Probably would do just fine without my left ear too,
but that doesn't mean I'd cut it off...
Sorry this is going in an odd direction...

Of course there are any number of things I didn't miss while away from home...

Chores...

Dishes... why are there mountains of dishes when the power goes out?



Cooking for unappreciative, picky, critical children (and they look like such little angels)...



Climbing the god-damn mountain to fix the water system every time it rains hard...
Go ahead and ask me what I did my very first morning at home...

Still, I have little cause for complaint... Not that I've ever let that stop me before... It is good to be home, honestly it is... But India was pretty darn nice too.

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Rohit

So... Rohit... Rohit was my guide in Nepal. I'm pretty sure he said he was 29, but maybe it was 31 (apparently I wasn't paying much attention in Nepal). Rohit is the only surviving child in his family. His older brother passed away a few years ago.We found out in Pokhara, a nice little lake-side town. We were all talking about our families. It makes me wonder if he ends up telling all his groups, and how hard it must be to always dredge up a sad part of your life... In any case... Ro has been a tour guide for 5 years, and is the only income earner in his home as his mother is a housewife, and his father is retired. I have to say, he is pretty relaxed, which was a refreshing change after India... About a year ago Ro took vows and became a monk for two days... Apparently it wasn't the life for him (although how you could possibly know that after only two days completely mystifies me... I mean, you'd think that unless you were so inclined you'd never take the vows in the first place...), and it was back to tour guiding. I never asked, but I wonder if he did this on his down time, or if he officially quit his job to become a monk, and then had to ask for his job back...
The picture I have included here is Ro, relaxing on a boat on the lake in Pokhara, while we did all the work and peddled the damn thing across the lake... Try and picture him in monk's robes...

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Best of Nepal

So... Nepal... What to say, what to say... This would be much easier if I wasn't sitting in a cybercafe in Mandi, India, listening to a bad Rick Astley techno remix... Not that I suppose there's anything that could improve Rick Astley... According to Ro, Nepal is the second poorest country in the world, only slightly better off than Somalia. I have to say though that my overall impression of Nepal was of a country that is much less chaotic and poor than India. Maybe I just didn't see the right part of Nepal. The best part of my trip through Nepal was the people I travelled with. God save me, they've switched the music to Randy Travis... I must be praying to the wrong gods... Ten days just wasn't long enough for me to really absorb Nepal. I definitely want to go back again, maybe do some trekking. So that's it... Best of Nepal... Oh, I should add that I really, really liked the olly-phants and rhinos... Ooh... Greenday... Things are looking up.
Picture... Suppose I should explain it as at first glance it would not necessarily appear to have the slightest thing to do with Nepal... I took this picture at Swayambunath, Kathmandu. It was Dipawali. Not too sure if this was supposed to be an offering of some sort, or if someone just threw it away.

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Hounslow

All my life I have owned dogs. I don't think there has ever been a time when I've been without one. The hard part about owning animals is facing the inevitable -they will die long before you do. Eleven years ago, I went to the pound to pick up a puppy. My dog of the day back then was Sheba, a black lab given to me and my brothers by my older sister Becky. Sheba was getting on in years and was no longer doing a very good job of keeping the property free of predators. The solution was obvious -add another dog. Hounslow was only 7 weeks old when we got him, all long legs and big paws, and as clumsy as all get out. We named him for a character from a British comedy. He wasn't a particularly bright dog, but made up for any shortcomings with his incredible enthusiasm for life. Last year I noticed that he was not doing so well, and off we went to the vet. Tests came back showing liver anomolies, but no clear diagnosis was ever made. Over the spring and summer months he lost weight, and it became obvious that we were going to lose him. Sadly, I had already booked my vacation; the best I could do was pray that he would still be there when I finally made it back home. I found out today that he is dead. I have been expecting the news for about a week now, but it has not made it any easier to bear. I will miss him deeply, and of course, as I am on the road, it will have to wait until I am home again before I can add a picture.

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Yak's Guide to Proper Pronunciation

They say that travelling broadens the mind. This may well be true, far be it from me to argue to the contrary. I have (as you will have noticed if you read this blog at all -that's right I'm adressing this to my three quasi-regular readers) been on the road for a short while now, and I shudder to think of the narrow-minded person I was before leaving home on my most recent wanderings. One of the people I have met on my travels is Yak (Yakesh actually), age 36 (or so he claims), an English defense lawyer, youngest of 6 children from Leicester, son of a Kenyan and an Indian. From nearly the very beginning of our trip together, we (the entire group not just Yak and I) have had a bit of a running argument about the proper pronunciation of inummerable words. As we are an international crowd there is rarely much concensus. The greatest bone of contention though concerns two words only: vitamin and yogourt (yes, I know, that is a singularly Canadian way of spelling that word -that would be because it works in both French and English... but I digress...).
In any case, for your edification (and the stretching of your mind -HA! I have come full circle to the beginning of this ramble) I am going to attempt to upload a short video of Yak's guide to the proper pronunciation of these words... If it doesn't work (and it probably won't) you'll just have to wait until I get home...

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Arranged Marriage

So... I've been travelling for four weeks in India and Nepal now. It seems that everyone over here has their marriages arranged for them by their parents... Usually at a very early age, although one must assume that it's not official until a later date... In any case I have met two guys who are both mid-to-late twenties who are being pressured by their families to get married, and should they not light a fire under their respectives arses and pick someone, their families will do the selecting for them... I'm talking two young-ish, reasonably good-looking, really nice (or seemingly so) guys... So ladies, this is maybe the place to come find yourself a nice (or seemingly so), not-butt-ugly guy. And hey they both have jobs!!!! I'll post pictures later... Just dial 1-800-solomon-will-hook-you-up. Small service fee may apply... Just kidding... What makes you think they'd be interested in western women anyways... Heck, for all I know they're not interested in any women... Never asked...

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Vinit

So... I've recently finished two weeks in India, travelling from Delhi to Varanasi. My tour leader was a guy named Vinit (pronounced vin-eet, and hey it only took me half the tour to get it right... so I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer... but if you're reading this you already know that... and I digress...). It was Vinit's first real tour ever (I think he'd had a go at it with an experienced guide -get your mind out of the gutter you pigs, I meant he led a practice tour). In any case he was very sweet, perhaps a wee but overly concerned for our welfare, but nice nontheless. Vinit is in fact a nurse and a midwife (although I'm pretty sure at some point he mentioned that he'd never, ever delivered a baby) from Udaipur. He is the baby of the family, and has an older brother. If I recall correctly (which rarely happens) his father is an accountant (as is his brother) and his mother is a nurse (does anyone else detect a pattern here?). He used to work for some telecommunications company in Bangalore (he was the guy who listened to you whinge about poor customer service, not one of theose guys who call at suppertime selling long-distance telephone service plans). And he gave up all this to lead whingy tourists around India... It really does boggle the mind. I learned all sorts of cool stuff from Vinit. Like apparently, a goldfish is a really expensive type of pet to have in India, so if you want to hook up with a rich dude in India, the Petsmart is the place to hang out... And people rent babies and then hang out on the street corner and beg (although I have a hard time believing this)...
The picture I have included here is Vinit in Chanderi, with flowers in his hair (which I feel compelled to say was a bit unusual, and might I add he asked me not to use this photo, but I couldn't resist).

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Unforgettable India...

So, I've just finished my first two weeks in India. I tried to listen to all the advice I was given before I went. Really I did. Some of it actually proved to be true... But at the end of the day, I've discovered that you just have to experience things for yourself, learn a few things the hard way, and go with the flow. This is what I have learned about India

What I loved about India:

1. Boys on bikes
2. Thali (the first time)
3. Sacred Cows
4. Painted goats
5. Elephants
6. The Taj Mahal
7. TRAFFIC!!!!
8. Entire families all squeezed onto a single moped
9. Water Buffaloes
10. Roundabouts

What I hated about India:

1. Children living in absolute squallor
2. Pollution
3. Garbage, garbage everywhere
4. Open sewers
5. Public urination
6. Touts
7. Thali (the millionth time)

What I liked best about India is that everything happens at street level from the mundane (and profane) to the sacred, you can see it all happpen, in every village, town and city. I am so glad I'm going back to India before I go back home... The picture I've included is the sun rising on the Ganges in Varanasi.

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The Not so Sacred Water Buffalo

So I've been traveling in India for about a week now. Everywhere I go there are cows. Sacred cows. Apparently it's the only kind of cow to be found in this country. A cow is the only safe animal in Indian traffic, and even when they go on a rampage in the city injuring people right left and centre, it's not o.k. to shoot them. Oh no, they must be gently tranquilized. Never mind the broken and bleeding bodies in the street. Water buffaloes are also a pretty common sight here. I think the only reason they don't get run over is that they're so damn big that it would be like hitting a moose...
Going by what I've been told, cows are sacred because they provide so much for the people of India. They are beasts of burden, pulling carts, ploughing fields. They provide milk, which of course is a great source of protein. Good reasons for being made sacred. Such good reasons that cows are not considered edible in this corner of the world.
Now consider the plight of the poor water buffalo. Water buffaloes are also beasts of burden. They too must pull and plough. They too provide milk for cheese and sundry dairy products. On top of all these magnificent qualities, according to Hindu religion the death deity Yamraj rides on the water buffalo's back. And yet water buffalo is on the menu. It's what's for dinner...
Does that seem right to you?

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Francine & Darwin

Fran and Dub got married tonight in Chehalis, in a traditional wedding ceremony. The whole thing lasted about four and a half hours (in the woods, mosquitoes no extra charge), although I left early, for all I know festivities continue as I type. I’ve been to countless ceremonies over the years, but this is the first traditional Sto:lo wedding I’ve attended. As with all things of this nature, the less intimately you are involved in the ceremony, the more interminable it seems, although for the most part things moved along… The mask dancers were there, that was pretty cool (go see them if you ever get the chance)... So here’s what I love about native ceremonies. No one’s invited, everyone just shows up. Kids are always welcome, and no one freaks out if they make a little noise. There’s always, always food…
So far as I know, Fran and Dub have been together for years. Their son (little Dub) must be just about four by now. I suppose marriage was the logical next step... I mean, I guess... Actually I see nothing wrong with living in sin forever, but that's just me... So congratulations Francine and Darwin, may your marriage be a happy one.

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Stupid Duck

I have a small flock of India Runner ducks. One of them, Giselle, is living in segregation (in my vegetable garden) as she has been nearly raped to death by the drakes (she’s a bit gimpy and apparently easy to catch). They ripped her head right open, you can see her skull... She’s really lonely in there and spends all her day walking up and down the fence that separates the chicken pen and the garden.
Today I went to Langley to buy a “companion” duck for Giselle. Since I couldn’t find anywhere that sells Runners, I bought a Muscovy instead (they're ugly as sin). Her name was Tootsie. She cost me $12. When I put her in the pen she took about two seconds to look around. I guess she decided it wasn’t for her. She flew off over the freakin HOUSE (two stories high). Perhaps I should have mentioned that I asked the person who sold her if muscovies could fly. She said not really. HA!
So tomorrow I’m going to load up my kayak and head on down to the slough to see if I can find good old Toots. If I do, and by some miracle catch the ugly duck, I’m giving her to my neighbour Fanny, and we shall dine upon BBQ Muscovy…

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India

So, I’m leaving for India on October 5th, for six weeks vacation. What seemed like a truly brilliant idea way back in March now appears to be the height of foolishness…People have been full of helpful advice, and pithy little comments: “never smile at a monkey”, “ride an elephant, just don’t fall off”, “what the hell do you want to go to India for anyways?”… And my all time favourite (so far): “you know, they put sugar on all their food in India” (if in fact this is true, India sounds like my kind of country)…
Last year, on the spur of the moment I went to Ecuador. Everything went smoothly, from booking flights to getting vaccinations. Despite warnings from other travellers and Ecuadorians I met en route to Quito, I didn’t meet a single bloodthirsty, just-waiting-to-rob-you-blind Colombian the entire time I was there (not too sure why Colombians, but that’s what they would have you believe). I spent nearly three weeks there, and had a blast.
So back to the India trip… Nothing has gone smoothly... Booking flights has been a nightmare, and I haven’t even been to the travel clinic yet (with my luck, I’ll contract some hideous disease as a result of this oversight).
Yesterday I went to pick up my ticket for a flight to Kathmandu from Delhi. Somewhere between booking it online, and having the ticket mailed to me, the flight time was bumped up two hours…. I won’t be in Delhi in time to make that flight… Just my luck… Have to be in Kathmandu by that evening… What the FUCK am I going to do? Go to India and take it on faith that somehow, I’ll make to Kathmandu by 6 p.m. on October 21st… Surely Ganesh will smile down upon me, and make it all come together…
I have included a picture of a monkey I saw while in Ecuador. I did not smile at it...

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Timmy

In my third year at university I got a dog, which I named Timmy. He was a Staffordshire Terrier cross, and while I have never much been one for dogs that could potentially kill you, he was pretty darn cool. I lived on campus, and used to walk Tim on the miles of trails in the woods behind the residence. One of my favourite trails circled a small lake. The main trail was a fair distance from the shore, but there was a network of random criss-crossing paths that connected it to the lake. I never gave much thought to what was responsible for the making of these paths until one day I heard a loud rumbling sound coming down one of them from the woods. I turned my head just in time to see a huge beaver come tearing along at an incredible rate of speed, heading straight for poor Timmy, who was not 10 feet in front of me. At the time Timmy was only about three months old, and not very big. The beaver slammed into his side, and he was tossed a good four feet into the air. He hit the ground running, and chased the oversized rodent straight into the water. It was the beginning of November, and thought he water hadn’t yet frozen over it was a good 5 degrees below zero. I had to carry Tim home in my jacket.
Sadly, the following year, Tim had to be put down. I still miss him, even though he’s been gone for the better part of a decade.

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David

My brother David is about one and half years older than me, give or take a few days. He always seemed larger than life to me as a child, far braver and daring, not to mention wiser, than I could ever hope to be. Of course he took advantage of my state of awe, and often bullied me into doing things I didn’t really want to do (apparently even back then I was a bit of a pushover).
One of my earliest memories of David is the time he convinced me that he could painlessly remove a loose tooth, thereby speeding up the “get money from tooth-fairy” process for me. I don’t really remember the conversation leading up to the event, and god knows I was probably overly eager to get my grubby mitts on that shiny quarter, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that David had talked me into giving him a cut of the tooth-fairy’s payoff. However the planning stages were accomplished, I have a crystal-clear memory of the attempted tooth extraction itself. We went downstairs, dental floss stealthily concealed in David’s pants pocket. He carefully tied one end around the loose tooth (one of my top front teeth) and after stretching what seemed like an eternity of floss out of the container, he attached to other end to the handle of the playroom door. What happened next has the power to make me cringe even now, nearly 27 years later. The draft of air created by the closing door wafted across my ankles. The force of that slam pulled me to my knees, and I hit my nose on the ground, good and hard. Needless to say, the tooth didn’t come out, at least not that day. I don’t remember getting into trouble over the whole affair, although as I’m pretty sure that my screams could be heard in the next solar system, my mother must have found out...
I have long since learned to take any pearls of wisdom from David with a grain of salt. Perhaps in the end it was merely a case of divine retribution. My mother tells me that I kicked out one of his front teeth when I was about three years old. Sadly, I don’t remember that stellar moment…
The picture I've included here is David, age six, criminal master mind of the "fleece the tooth fairy" scam.

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Root Canal

Last week I went for a root canal. It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, can I just say. I sat in that chair for two and a half hours watching star trek reruns with my mouth wide open, while my arse went to sleep and the muscles in my back cramped... I brush and floss like a demon… I use fluoride rinse… Where’s the fairness in that, I ask? Boys and girls, eat all the candy you want. Don’t worry about brushing. So far as I can tell, it makes no difference at all.
And lucky me, I get to go back four more times this month…

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First Attempt...

Testing, testing 1, 2, 3...

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