My New Toy

Chester ever so kindly bestowed a new laptop upon me for my birthday (albeit a few weeks early). It's speedy, cavernous (as in it has LOTS of storage space) and lovely, and will aid me in my quest for a degree.

I consider myself lucky that the computer with the most battery power (up to 6 hours!) in Chester's price range just happened to be the one with a lovely design. I'm also quite tickled that Chester was able to find a matching Bluetooth mouse!



The inside is pretty to look at as well.



One of the coolest gadgets that came with it was the little Windows Media remote that can be tucked safely inside the computer.



As evidenced by the picture below, I'm pleased as can be!

Ode to Steel Cut Oats

Seemingly not in line with popular opinion, I find oatmeal to be an enjoyable breakfast food. Although, admittedly, the brown sugar I put in my oatmeal certainly doesn’t decrease my daily sugar intake, I feel better about making oatmeal my main breakfast food versus most boxed cereals. (Side note: this weekend I discovered that both corn flakes AND rice krispies, cereals I previously considered somewhat innocuous, contain high fructose corn syrup!) In fact, buttered toast dipped in oatmeal is quite the tasty treat.

Up until a few weeks ago, I was content with plain old rolled oats. Although I initially dismissed the idea of steel cut oats, mostly because of the time they take to cook, my conversion began with an impromptu purchase. I was in the store to buy cornmeal, but I wanted to try a coarser grind than usual. I also felt a little silly (congratulations, grocery stores) buying only one thing. I scanned the selection of other grains and recalled my curiosity regarding a possible expansion of my oat experience.

First off, I was surprised by the shape. I had pictured a steel cut oat to look like three rolled oats stacked together, but they actually look like someone put whole oats in a blender for about 10 seconds.

I was completely taken off guard by the tastiness that oats have the possibility to provide! The texture was much more palatable and delightfully chewy. The taste is pretty much the same, but it’s amazing the difference a little texture can provide. If you’re tempted to completely give up on oats-with-essence-of-library-paste, I would recommend giving the steel cut variety a chance!

Stranger Than Fiction

A few years ago, I became quite disenchanted with my near-exclusively fantasy-and-Stephen-King reading habits and have since worked at building up my book genre repertoire. Something that surprises me is how much I’ve come to love non-fiction books. One of the first, and one of my all-time favorites, in the string of these books was Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan (a wonderful, eye-opening, socially relevant book about four different meals and their backgrounds). Since then some books I have found immensely enjoyable are Animals in Translation (a book about similarities between how animals and autistic people think, by an autistic woman), The Mole People: Life in the Tunnels Beneath New York City, a couple of books from Cesar Millan’s collection, various memoirs about animals (do these count as non-fiction?) and quite recently, The Other Side of Desire, which delves into the lives of four “sexual deviants”.

Currently I’m in the middle of reading Your Inner Fish (a book that takes the whole people-from-primates theory one step—or three—further and presents evidence regarding our similarities to fish) for a book club I’m quite excited about. Last night I picked up a book about rats, and The Secret Life of Lobsters is high up on my list (sometimes I suspect all it takes to entice me is some allusion to finding out secrets).

As my community college career comes to a close and the necessity of making a decision looms, my excitement about the above makes me feel fairly confident in my decision to pursue a biology degree. Regrettably, textbooks are not always as enthralling as books like the ones I’ve mentioned…

La Belle Vie

As you all have probably heard so many times you're quite nauseated by now, this was a very exciting year: I turned 25 (five squared) and my mom turned 49 (seven squared). I always have trouble thinking of what to get my mom for a gift, but this year I had the perfect solution: a fancy dinner. La Belle Vie was recommended to me by one of the attorneys I work for, a self-proclaimed foodie. He proclaimed La Belle Vie the best restaurant in the Cities, which is all it took to pique my interest. What better way to commemorate such a special year?

As we pulled up on Friday and handed my mom's car off to the valet, I began to suspect we would not be disappointed. We were led through a big hallway, past the bar/lounge area into a brightly lit room with maybe fifteen tables. At first, we were the only ones there. The silence and emptiness of the room, combined with the several fork and spoon layout on our table (incidentally, this fancy silverware was replaced after every course) caused us to sit up very straight, talk quietly and giggle a lot, at least until the room began to fill with other diners. We decided on the chef's taster's menu: an eight-course dinner filled with things I had no hope of deciphering (except for the promising mention of beignet).

Among the notable bits of the meal were the irregular and truly lumpy lumps of sugar for our coffee; the delightful rye bread with (golden!) raisins accompanied by an attractive and ample circular pat of butter; the glass of Riesling, adding a bit of sophistication and ; the crispy fish and magical beans (who knew a mere bean could be so tasty?) in the soup; the bright orange trout roe (eggs) making the fish course a delight to not only my taste buds, but to my rods and cones; the tasty cow thymus invitingly called sweet breads; the tiny, delicate wafer with holes so large you could poke a pen point through, which I miraculously still managed to fit all my fancy gouda and jam on; the tablespoon or so of grapefruit and fancy yogurt which came with the daintiest of spoons; and last, but most definitely not least, the chocolate syrup-filled chocolate beignet and chocolate custard/crème brulee.

I can't wait to go there again!

Birthday Adventure

It would be remiss of me not to include a blog about the adventure had on my birthday! Part of the motivation for this particular outing was to share with Mikey our favorite things about living in this metropolitan area. Since I am always quick to point out with pride my light rail stop, and to talk about the excellent people-watching to be had on the light rail, it makes sense that we would use it as our mode of transportation for heading downtown. We were not the only ones who had that idea, however—so did hundreds of people attending the Twins game. I suppose one cannot truly experience the light rail until one has been packed like a sardine, although I’m not sure how good sardines would be at standing, let alone hanging onto a handrail so as not to be jostled too much.

Our first stop in downtown was aimed at completing the thrilling task of renewing my driver’s license. It was pretty cool to do it in one of the downtown government buildings, and again, another excellent people-watching opportunity. After that, we wandered around the skyway until we stopped off at the new library to get me a library card (happy birthday, indeed!). It was at this juncture that I thought it would be kind of fun to figure out a bus to get us to Dinkytown for lunch. The bus ride to Dinkytown and back was enough to prove that city buses (although not necessarily their suburban counterparts) make for excellent and varied people-watching, especially in the middle of the day.

After eating at Annie’s (a meal that included my reason for loving the restaurant: a Reese’s cup milkshake), we walked down the street and prepared to wait for our bus. Before we got to our prescribed location, we rerouted ourselves into a tattoo shop, where I procured a free t-shirt (yay for birthdays!) and enthusiasm from the tattoo artist about my idea for a new inking. Although I was tempted, we all left needle-free but full of promises for the future.

The night was capped off with a visit to Doolittle’s, where my favorite buffalo wings and a free dessert waited, along with Mikey, Chester and my Metro-area dwelling immediate family. We were pretty wiped out from our adventure, but it was a very pleasant evening to cap off a fun day.

The Independent

As you all probably already know by now, one of my favorite things to do is people watch. Therefore, if I eat out somewhere and enjoy it, plus I get to experience varied and excellent people-watching, it quickly jumps to one of my favorite places to eat. One such place is the Independent in Uptown. I sometimes forget about it, due to the fact that Famous Dave’s is right below it and I’ve gotten a little disenchanted with Uptown anyway (read: I feel like a dork when I’m surrounded by the coolness that pervades the neighborhood). However, it seemed like a good place to take Mikey at the start of his visit last Wednesday.

We were surprised to discover that Wednesday nights is two-for-ones for mixed drinks at the Independent. Again, if you know me at all, you know that I very rarely drink (an unfortunate by-product of my 21st birthday). This time was an exception, however, after I saw Chester order a pear cider and Mikey ordered a fancy cocktail (and received two) that I cannot recall the name of. So, decided to order a drink (and received two), the name of which I already cannot recall. It tasted pretty good, but I ended up only drinking about a third of one drink before I passed it to Chester.

I don’t know if Chester is a serious lightweight or just already so goofy that a couple of drinks was enough to open the floodgates. He was being silly and putting his arm around me while Mikey and I looked on in mock horror and revulsion. Well, the mockery was not as apparent to all, because a woman dining a few tables away actually went through the trouble to approach us and ask us if we knew “that guy”. It afforded us (meaning me and Mikey, not necessarily Chester) a good chuckle when we realized he probably appeared to be quite creepy.

More tales of the weekend to follow, so do tune in.

Snow Day: Part 2

I just shoveled snow for the first time in seven years (except for maybe some minor shoveling here and there). Our yard is small, which may deceive one into thinking that not much maintenance would be required. This is not so. Our yard is long and skinny, which means there wasn't much shoveling of the city sidewalk to do, but we have sidewalk all up the length of our yard, in front and back, and a concrete parking area in back.

This was not necessarily a bad thing--I like being outside, and but for the scraping of shovel on cement, it was quiet and peaceful (except for one runner, who made me glad I had just finished up our portion of the city sidewalk). When I came inside, the wood in the floors and on the cabinets looked bright and beautiful (my eyes had become accustomed to staring at snow, I guess). Plus, when I went to see if I could log any calories burned on SparkPeople, I found out that 45 minutes of shoveling = 432 calories burned! Yay for snow!

I suspect my noodley arms will pay the price tomorrow.

What do you do...

...when you're home alone, it's snowing and your plans have changed so that you won't even need to leave the house today? Apparently playing "Outta My Head" by Ashlee Simpson over and over while dancing around like a maniac, knowing no one can see you (which is probably good if your signature dance move is waddling like a penguin), is the thing to do. I concede that the song is hardly a masterpiece, but I dare you to listen to it without wanting to dance too.

Who doesn't love weekends?

Here are some cool things about this weekend:

1. Since I'm counting Thursday night as part of the weekend, I'll start here. I got to see Melancholy Play at the Bryant Lake Bowl with Alexis, Amanda and Whitney and it was GREAT! I'm lucky to have friends that get me out to see excellent plays (even better, including ones they are in!).

2. Friday night Chester and I vegged and caught up on a few of our favorite shows (The Office, Ugly Betty and 30 Rock [bonus: they played a snippet of Werewolf Bar Mitzvah in this episode, and if you don't know what I'm talking about...too bad so sad]). For free! I won't spoil this by dwelling on the fact that the WGA strike, while needed, will make me sad. I will dwell instead on the fact that the (hopefully temporary) ceasement of some of my favorite shows will free up some of my time for blogging.

3. Saturday I geeked out and graduated to a level 2 half-orc barbarian. Plus I got to eat brownies. Then we went and saw Electric Apricot: Quest for Festeroo, which I barely stayed awake due to the fact that I woke up, excited as I used to get for Christmas but this time for a bike ride that has been long-anticipated, at 8:00 am. Sadly, bike ride did not happen Saturday....

4. ....but it DID happen today! Eight miles, no less! We rode up the West River Parkway in Minneapolis, crossed the Lake Street bridge into St. Paul and rode down the arguably more affluent East River Parkway. We enjoyed being sandwiched with views of the Mississippi (afforded us by the lack of leaves) and giant mansions. The weather couldn't have been better.

5. I skipped ahead a bit. Our friends Carl and Mel stopped by this morning with their most excellent dogs, Izzy and Lucy, and we went to the Triple Rock for breakfast. It doesn't get much better than good company, sugar that's in the pour-containers (you know, versus having to tear open teaspoon-sized packages when your sugar allotment is measured in tablespoons) and good people-watching.

6. I fixed Chester's bike! He had tried to raise his handlebars a week or so ago and couldn't get them to tighten back down. I tipped his bike upside down, extracted a loose piece, and not only fixed what was thought to be a lost cause, but managed to raise his handlebars in the process. Not the biggest accomplishment, but I'll take what I can get.

7. Meet the Robinsons and Aladdin, mix with pizza, rinse and repeat. I think Kingdom Hearts has put us in the mood for Disney.

Hope your weekends were just as good!

Spooky, Scary or Oh, Life in the City!

Exciting happenings here at work—although the word "exciting" is misleading because it often implies something positive.

I was attending to the happy business of relieving a client’s file of non-necessities, due his recent obtaining of a patent, when one of the other secretaries asked if I got the "spooky e-mail". I replied that I had not, but was understandably intrigued and promptly opened said e-mail. I was met with an unpleasant surprise when I discovered that an attorney was apprising us of a situation where he met with someone this morning, and the person turned out to be Not of Stable Mind. This guy apparently was full of delusions, including his belief that he was owed money by Paris Hilton and The Mafia, and set warning bells off with his general threat to "pull a Matrix", which he clarified as gunning down his enemies. Also disturbing was the fact that the guy believed he had a meeting with a certain famous pro-wrestling chairman scheduled in our office at 1:00 today.

Afflicted as I was at that moment with my caffeine-induced jangling nerves and already vivid imagination when it comes to such things (not to mention the vivid imaginations of the other secretaries encouraging mine), this information was not well received. Not helping much was the mixture of caffeine and copious amounts of water requiring a trip outside the office into suddenly-unknown and possibly-containing-crazy-person space. I was standing, perplexed and motionless, next to the door going out of our office and into the hallway (and not far beyond, the land of the bathroom) when the receptionist asked if I would accompany her to the second floor to see if we could discreetly spot Mr. Not Stable. We bravely scoped out the area and, upon not finding him, returned to the office feeling a bit more secure.

No worries: we had a quick staff meeting in the conference room and were informed that building security would be turning our elevators on lockdown (where you have to enter a code in the elevator to even get on our floor) and keeping an eye out for this fellow. Things are pretty much back to business as usual, but then again, it’s nearly 1:00…

Weeds Schmeeds

Ok, so I pulled a weed or two (out of the entire colony of millions that have taken residence around our house and that we've ignored until they reached gigantor proportions) and now I'm quite proud. Right now, Chester is painting the hallway (of which he learned to do from Karate Kid, he says) and telling me about how if I had gone to the Pride Parade like he did this morning (he was in it, figure that one out) I would have had plenty to blog about. Apparently Al Franken made an appearance, as did some candy.

My brother and his lovely girlfriend were in town this weekend, so we (Chester, me and little brother Casey) took them on a Minneapolis adventure before we headed to the 'burbs for a ValleyFair extravaganza. I put on my decidedly uncool purple Nikes and we trekked (on foot, like hobbits) to and hopped on the light rail to the mysterious Cedar/Riverside stop. We walked again to the Triple Rock Social Club for their legendary breakfast (incidentally, this was not our first trip with David to the Triple Rock--we'd already seen the Real McKenzies' lead singer's sub-kilt, sans-undies buttocks there). People-watching was most excellent (I have not yet stumbled across another place where I can sip coffee and admire mohawks, von Dutch neck tattoos and quite fancy handlebar moustaches).

We also checked out some stores (Savers and Target, wow) on Lake/Hiawatha. I unwisely contemplated purchasing a coat tree and lugging it on the light rail and walking it the 8 blocks from the light rail home. We found Casey some fabulous 80s garb for a party he was going to later that night and I found some t-shirts that will help encourage my attractive farmer's tan (as well as some books to encourage my attractive brain).

I have pinned back my bangs so that I and my prominent (but lovely) forehead can once again wage war on the renegade weeds. Over and out.

Zoo Mania

Holy moly! I have an interview on Monday for a summer volunteer position at the Como Zoo. As some of you know, I volunteer there every other weekend cleaning the feeder mouse cages, which I've been doing for a year and a half. Sounds not too exciting, but I love it. Mice are more interesting than you might think. Anyhow, this position is for the summer only, and it's in the aquatics (think: seals and penguins and polar bears, not just fish!), and it's more time-intensive than what I do now. It would be every Sunday from 8:30-2:30. And it must be sort of a big deal and that's why they're having interviews. Like I said, holy moly. It has to do with the Sparky (seal) show, mostly, but experience has taught me that volunteering gets you into cool places there. Here's a list of the duties for interested parties:

• Weigh designated diet items into assigned containers.

• Make record of weights where stipulated and refer to chart for quantities.

• Disinfect and wash counter, scale, and all emptied containers.

• Pick up litter and trash in and around the stage and pool area.

• Hose down stage.

• Remove litter and dirt from pool using pool net and vacuum.

• Field questions from the public about the Sparky Show.

• Activate and monitor the audio system prior to, during, and after Sparky show.

Wish me luck!

And so it was done.

Well, after a day full of ups and downs, I'm proud to say that Chester and I are co-owners of an adorable little Nokomis-area house in Minneapolis. It has taken quite the interesting set of roads to get to this point, and for a heart-wrenching couple of hours we were so unsure that it was going to happen that we actually went to an Edina Realty office nearby and looked at other prospective houses (and finding a house that is person-owned versus foreclosure where the tenants would be willing to move within, oh, five minutes is a lot tougher than it might sound). Luckily the mechanic's lien was cleared up (turns out the sump pump-installing contractor wasn't willing to waive payment from the previous owner--who would've thought he'd want his money?) due to the listing agent giving up her commission in favor of getting things taken care of.

Although it was a tricky day, I was reminded of the definite goodness in some people (like the poor commissionless agent). I've talked to our loan officer so much over the phone that when I finally got to meet him today, it was like greeting an old friend. Our realtor has been fantastic from the beginning, and we were reminded of that when we watched her tenaciously make arrangements with aforementioned loan officer to get the large and looming pile of junk out of our brand new driveway (apparently Previous Owner thought "remove personal items" meant "move them to the driveway and let someone else deal with them"). Needless to say, if you need to buy or sell a house in the Twin Cities, I know just the people for the job. I should also thank the people who (maybe) read this and have already helped us (Dad, CJ, Mom, Casey!) and those who have sent their offers of help and wishes of goodwill.

I have also been reminded of some things and had to make some changes in thinking I had just a few days ago. For one, the saltwater tank that has been the subject of many a post has got to go. My tank is being overrun by disgusting bristle worms and I think my starfish may be meeting his maker at this very moment. If he makes it through the night, he's going back to the pet store in hopes of finding a more suitable home and I'm converting my tank to a haven for some pretty little freshwater fish. Much easier.

Another change I've had to make is with my project planning. After a few more expenses popped up (titles and appraisals and insurance, oh my!) and we watched our savings dwindle substantially, the weird blue carpet upstairs began to look lovely indeed. Now the project I'm looking forward to is the time-consuming (read: April-busying) and money-saving endeavor of stripping our cabinets and kitchen-trim and staining them a darker color.

The American dream? We shall see. For now I'm content with the thought of a warm and inviting little waterless (but only till Friday) abode across the metro that is currently keeping vigil over a good part of our belongings, patiently waiting our permanent arrival.

Mr. Nelson Indeed!

I just received a fax related to our house-buying process (which has been postponed due to a very unsavory mechanic’s lien) that was sent to me but had to do with Chester, and in the fax, much to my amusement, he was referred to as Mr. Nelson. Even more delightful is the fact that this has happened before, on Chester’s YMCA membership card. As the last couple of days have not been what I would call amusing in the least, this gave me a welcome reason to giggle. I doubt, however, that Chester will be quite as pleased.

R.I.P. Kurt Vonnegut

I know you were 84 and enjoyed a long and eventful (and what I gather from what little I know about you, at least amusing) life. But that didn't stop me from tearing up a little when I heard the radio talking about you post-mortem (although this is not surprising considering the weakness in my heart for clever, sweet old men, even though I know that's not always what you were, and not even the best thing about you). I know I've only read one of your books, but I was taken with the personality (your tendency towards humor, kindness and best of all, wisdom) that showed through in your writing, and you're someone I sure would have liked to know: one of the good ones, and you will be missed.

I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Reflections on a Compliment

I had an interesting experience yesterday at the bank where I take the daily deposit for work. There is a manager (around my age, pretty run-of-the-mill fellow) that works there that sometimes engages in what I cautiously call teasing flirtations. Personally, I think it’s because he helped me with a deposit one day and asked if I was new person in charge of delivering the deposit. Not only was I not, but I had been doing it nearly three years. Any attentions I have received from him since I attribute to his embarrassment/guilt over not noticing me before.

Anyway, yesterday he was teasing me that he “didn’t want to help me anyway” when a lady cut in front of me. I’m never sure what to do when people I’m not familiar with do this, which results in less-than-eloquent responses. He made me even more uncomfortable by commenting on my “pretty smile”. Not wanting to lead him on (after all, my man possesses unsurpassed hunkiness) or admit that I found his compliment quite genuine indeed, I shrugged and smiled. He asked if I disagreed. No, I said, I guess I just don’t get the pleasure of seeing my own smile very often (which is untrue because I’m always trying out new faces in the mirror). He was impressed with my response and continued to comment on the exchange until I very gladly went on my way.

My Resolution

...is to start out the year not ragging on the things I should change (there's no shortage of those), but to celebrate the fact that I can upload a picture to this magical site and feel gorgeous in an instant. I encourage you all to try as well.

It is a Muscle, After All

Sometimes I like to play little mind games to keep myself amused. In the past, this has included adding up the numbers in telephone numbers, addresses or whatever to see what the sum would be (I always hoped for a multiple of five), or I would add, subtract or multiply the numbers to get a multiple of five. Also, when I was younger, I was strongly encouraged not to read at the breakfast (or lunch or dinner) table, so I was reduced to rearranging the letters of the words on the cereal box (or anything that mercifully had words on it) to make new words. I got in the habit of doing this quite often throughout the day, and eventually it lead to me winning (by an embarrassingly huge amount—apparently this is not a popular activity) a little competition held around Christmas time in my Home Ec. class my freshman year of high school.

Anyway, last night in my anatomy and physiology class, we were talking about the special senses (hearing, seeing smelling, etc.). Our teacher was talking about how when you're smelling something, your brain is reacting to molecules that actually get inside your nose. We all had a hearty laugh when he said that was something we could think about the next time someone, ahem, passed gas. Well, I seem to still be running this through my head today. I was thinking about how people generally do not like the scent of others' body odors, and then I got to thinking about adaptation. So what I concluded is that there must have been people thousands of years ago who, due to genetics, actually liked the smell of other people's gasses. And then I begin to think about exactly how this trait would be an evolutional disadvantage.

Except when I'm thinking about the day when we do run out of fossil fuels and looking around to inventory everything in sight that requires petroleum in its manufacture (which especially includes the wonderful contacts that allow me to see all kinds of distances without the librarian look), it's fun to be inside my brain.

Three Years

As you may have noticed, I tend to shy away from writing too much about Chester than can be categorized under lovey-dovey. While you all know I am a huge fan of sugar, I personally do not like large doses of it in the form of other peoples’ relationships, and do my part to try and spare you all (though I will not be held responsible if we were sickening in the first few months of our relationship…isn’t everybody?). However, in honor of the fact that we’ve been together a mind-blowing three years today, I have some things I want to share with the people who are interested enough in me to read my blogs.

When I met Chester, I liked him right away. His personality and usually delightful sense of humor is obviously what ultimately hooked me, but make no mistake: he’s attractive, too. I like that he has the sort of features that make it possible for him to pass for 21 or under (with his hat on, of course) even though he’s 27. I like his teeth and the character they give his face. Heck, I even like his lack of hair—I wouldn’t poke fun so much if I didn’t. If you are the sort of person that buys into vibes, know that his is friendly and comfortable, and this is a big part of his charm.

When we first met and were getting to know each other, I was seeing someone else. Besides that, Chester lived in the Twin Cities and I still lived in Fargo. So what made up my mind that Chester was who I wanted to be with, you are all on the edge of your seats wondering? Believe it or not, a Trivial Pursuit game sealed the deal. We were playing a game with friends, and we were on a team together. He pretty much let me answer all of the questions, and when my answers were wrong, it wasn’t a big deal—he was busy having fun with me. Although we’ve definitely had our not-so-fun times and this does not always apply, I think it’s safe to say that game of Trivial Pursuit is a good metaphor for how things are.

Chester himself is a big, important and welcome part of my life, but he’s brought other things into my life that I’m grateful for: his friends and family (Mikey especially comes to mind), the dog he got me for my birthday (and the pets that followed—he’s contributed to all of them), the support he gives me that makes it easier to go to school while working full time, his generosity when it comes to all of his resources, his willingness to go along with whatever I want to do, the fun he contributes and the relationship he has with my family.

What can I say, I’m a lucky girl.

April vs. Cavity Creeps: Part Deux

Oh that's right, I went there with the fancy French words. Although I cannot provide a convincing argument for this at the moment, I think my visit to the dentist yesterday warrants the fanciness (and do look back around the middle of June for the first installment of this epic).

Is it strange if one is looking forward to their February 19th appointment of getting a crown? If so, let me explain. Once I have that pleasant little visit taken care of, I will have effectively eradicated the remnants of the trials and tribulations I have exacted on my poor little teeth. I learned yesterday exactly what a crown is (I understand that it is a fake tooth that goes over part of the tooth that has not been wiped out due to an unfortunate increase in sugary foods and a decrease in nightly brushings a mere few months after I began college). I can't help but wonder if getting a gold crown would be a good investment. Think of it before you laugh--I'd have mysterious sparkle that would cause people to wonder if it was merely a bit of dental work, or a glimpse of the gleam that is my soul.

One thing I sincerely hope comes to an end is my strange teeth dreams. I've had dreams where my jaw gets irreversibly stuck in an underbite, or where I'm afraid to move my mouth because all my teeth are on the verge of falling out. I wake up more relieved than I thought possible, and wholeheartedly thank my little gomphoses for doing their jobs with aplomb. (I recently discovered what gomphoses are--teeth joints--in my anatomy class and I have yet to lose my delight at the name.)

All I can say is this has been my most pleasant dental venture over the past year and I'm pleased as pie (of which I hope I shall be consuming lots, very soon).

Happy Thanksgiving, and don't forget to floss!