Because of very busy days, I am doing a special Fourth of July column. Bracing myself for my 90th birthday later this month, where plans are for a grand opening signing of my new “Yum Yoodle Snook-Wild Beastie Book” on the same day as the Moose City Corporation’s annual meeting. However, this very week is a visit from great grandson Novi and his mom.
For this Independence Day comes some advice. “If you want to enjoy the sixth, don’t drink a fifth on the fourth.”
Following is a personal yarn written last January but maybe not used due to my printer breaking down:
It’s bad enough sitting in a dental chair for three hours, but the worst part seemed to be paying $1,300 for the new crown. Yes, that little event did reduce my enjoyment of life last week, however, the crown had to be fixed because it is on my “chewing side.” Naturally, big dental bills worry most of us, but at least I had the money to pay it. It truly bothers me that so many folks out there cannot always afford needed-type expenses, especially on their “chewing side.”
This latest round with tooth problems reminded me of a column I wrote 19 years ago. Let us all enjoy it one more time:
In our house, we have the “green bathroom” and the “blue bathroom.” I keep a toothbrush in both of those places because sometimes I have to brush in a hurry. The “blue bathroom” is only accessible from Iris’s and my bedroom. Anyone can get into the “green bathroom” from the hall.
Last Wednesday, I was hurrying to get to a shop for a book signing. The blue bathroom was tied up, so I went to the “green” for a quick shine of the pearlies. Alas, the toothbrush was missing from the holder over the sink. I looked all over before finding it in the bottom “catch all” drawer and got the brushing done.
That night at the table, I asked first wife Iris how come she had taken my toothbrush out of the holder and hidden it in the drawer.
“Oh,” she says with great surprise. “Was that yours?”
“What do you mean, WAS that yours? It still is mine.”
“Georgie,” she replied. “I have to tell you something.”
It is personally terrifying when Iris calls me “Georgie.” It doesn’t happen often, but it can mean something fairly unpleasant, like she wants me to dig up two acres of lawn looking for an earring, or she has run over our attorney with our truck, or something like that. I braced for Iris’s explanation regarding the toothbrush.
“Georgie! I swear to all that is good an holy, I did not know that toothbrush was yours. It was very dry and appeared to be worn out. I assumed it was and old spare that had been abandoned.”
“Iris!” I screeched. “Okay, what’s the big deal? Why put my toothbrush in the catch all drawer?”
“Georgie, I’m getting to that. Thinking it was abandoned, I used it to scrub my tennie runners. I’m sorry.”
“Good gosh, Iris. That still doesn’t seem like too terrible a deal…unless of course you had been walking in something awful with those shoes.”
“Georgie,” she said. “I am dropping the discussion right now, forever, and especially during supper.”
“It’s that bad, eh?”
“Yes, I am afraid so…but let me assure you of one thing. There was nothing on my shoes that would cause someone to get sick…or die.”
It has been over a week now. I try not to think about what my old toothbrush may have been used on. That is hard to do and it creeps into my mind once in a while. I have made sort of a mental list of things which are too disgusting for table talk, but not bad enough to kill people.
I have a brand new toothbrush and am using it a lot. Not many folks brush every few hours, but they haven’t been through what I have, either.