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2:06 a.m. - 2013-04-20
Garage doors and other stuff.

"So, LA, when you're not jutting your chin out daring the world to take a poke at you in an effort to distract yourself from a whopping huge amount of emotional pain and anxiety what else you got going on?"

Oh, the usual. Chores. Errands. Made a couple faboo meals. Made a couple more 'meh' ones.

Mick's birthday is June 20th. However, the county home show is in the very early spring. It's a gathering of merchants and contractors over at the local community college held once a year so those needing new roofs or wanting solar panels or a deck with a hot tub can do some one-stop shopping. There are booths with reps for everything House. Second mortgage lenders. Guys who'll kill the mold in your cellar. Landscapers and kitchen remodelers. It's pretty cool. Not as cool as the show held for actual building trades pros. I went to that with the ex a few times and the swag we collected and the contacts made were freaking awesome. But for the home-owning civilians this yearly extravaganza at SUNY Orange is pretty good.

In 2012 it's where we found the guys who did the soffits and the ones who rebuilt the front stoop last spring. At that one we also talked to some guys who'd install a new garage door for a very good price, but we ran out of money last year. This year when we got the flyer for the home show I had a brainstorm and decided Mick would finally get a new garage door. A combo Father's Day/ birthday/thanks for being a good husband gift. After a certain age people become hard to shop for. (Unless you've recently won a lottery.) The wee free-standing one car garage just up the hill from my office is where Mick's 57 VW lives. A spring in the lifting track broke a couple years ago and raising the garage door took all of Mick's prodigious muscle and some careful timing to wedge a board under the door to keep it open. A new garage door would be THE perfect gift for my guy who has nearly everything.

So I dragged him off to the home show a few weeks ago claiming I wanted to score some free reusable shopping bags and a new yardstick. (This being the kind of swag the home show merchants give out. That and refrigerator magnets by the dozens.) Mick was none too pleased but he knows better than to deny me when I actually do make a demand on his time. We got inside and I blew right past the landscapers and the pool installers and the mold guys and dragged him right over to the garage door guy's booth. Surprise! Do some browsing for styles and colors, set up an estimate, and BLAM! I'll buy you a garage door. Happy birthday!

Mick was delighted.

The new garage door was installed on Monday. And I don't know if I've ever given Mick anything he liked more. Okay, maybe my hand in marriage. Anyhow, after rescheduling once because of rain, the installation went off without a hitch. On Mick's actual birthday he'll get a nice card and a home cooked meal of steak and scallops, in the meantime he has his new spiffy garage door. And all is well at Casa Sage.

Last week Wolf and I went in for our annual dental cleanings. Praise be, my son's teeth are still cavity-free. As were his elder brother's last I knew. Terrific DNA, endless hocking by me to floss and brush, and good prophylactic treatment of fluoride applications and sealants done by Dr Ralph, and my children's teeth are a credit to modern dentistry and good momming. My own, however, were lacking. For the last three years we've been watching a pinhole cavity near the gum line on the left side of my lower jaw. Wasn't getting worse but cavities don't heal. This time there was another pinhole on the right side. Time to get busy and stopper up my cavities before my teeth were in any real danger.

To add them up and take an average I have gotten a new cavity and filling once every 8 years since I grew my adult teeth. Not humble-bragging, any cavities feel like a moral failure on my part. I gots good teef. My kids luckily inherited my good dental DNA. So for me to need any kind of dental work besides my annual cleaning makes me depressed. Like I fucked up and let my teeth down. Really nervy of me considering all the goddamn candy I eat, but there it is.

Anyhoodle, I went in to have one of the teeth worked on yesterday. Turned out it was so quick I was able to have the other one done too. In and out of the chair completely finished in half an hour. No novocaine. Though seeing my nervousness, young Dr Ken Doll suggested I delay treatment until I could go to a sedation dentist. WTF? Dude, I am a little anxious and I understand a numbing shot would be next to useless considering my cavities' locations, but sedation? Listen up, I squirted out a 10 and a 1/2lb baby without drugs! However I have been sexually violated in some seriously fucked up and scarring ways. I am not about to let some stranger knock me unconscious for a little routine dental work. Might as well suggest I ingest some roofies at a frat party. Nothing you might do to me with your drill and pointy painful dental scrapers could be scarier than the idea of being helplessly unconscious and at the mercy of some sicko claiming to be a dentist who gets his jollies working on patients unable to fight back. Up yours, Dr Ken Doll. Do my teeth right now or I will wait for Dr Ralph to have a free appointment. The man has done my dentistry for 45 years and I trust him implicitly. I know he took you on as an associate seven years ago, but that doesn't mean I'd let you or anybody else knock me out. Drill, you twerp, drill.

He did. And my wee bitty cavities are filled and smoothed and nobody was able to feel me up and/or take horrible X-rated pics of me while I was out cold.

Good deal.

Not that anyone except fat fetishists would want nakey compromising pics of me. I have become a barge. A human shipping container set upright. I pity poor Mick. He signed up for richer and poorer, not fat and fatter.

Yet I dare decorate my Hindenburg self with new blouses. Bought from Tractor Supply Store. Appropriate, who else will dress a horse? Peasant blouses. Scooped neck, ruffles on the placket, puffy sleeves with elastic gathered cuffs. I bought one last week and then went back yesterday and bought three more in assorted colors. Soooo not the usually tailored me. Brightly colored fabrics too. A linen beige, a gorgeous rose color, a spiffy purple, and a print!

Part spring, but mostly a need to put some color in my life. Soften the edges too. The endless nastiness and hurt of the world is grinding me down. I've put on my psychic tap shoes and I'm dancing. Leave an extra nice tip for the waitress. Give a cheery wave to the cop shooting radar near where my car was parked. Make faces at babies and toddlers. Smile as much as I can. Be as pleasant as I can too. It's hard sometimes. Some days I just want to stay in bed with the covers pulled over my head and howl. But today I put on my pretty rose colored shirt and did my best.


Guess that's all any of us can do. ~LA

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