The last week has been dreadful. First it get’s cold, then it warms up, then it rains, and now the sun is out, but hides in clouds all the time. My youngest daughter phones today that six inches of snow fell on Boulder overnight.

Wot the hell! I thought it was srping. Says right here on my calendar that it’s spring.

Looks Springy to me

I limbered up the camera and staked out my front yard today for some shots of the early spring flora/fauna population which has been arriving in increasing numbers lately.  I just missed a great shot of a Yellow Warbler nipping thistle seeds from my dispenser.  Shame, that, because she was really pretty.  Not a bright yellow as a male, but colorful nonetheless.  Here are some shots of the others:

First, a female woodpecker


Brown Chickadee??


Doves are plentiful hereabouts – with their soothing woo WOO Hoo


And my first Robin of spring (there have been others before, but not photographed).


And then we have Mr. (or Mrs.) Squirrel.  This one managed to hold still for me while I crept closer.  Looks like a yearling though, just born last fall.


And two shots of my Jonquils, just beginning to poke out flower buds.



Spring is really necessary for me this year.  I have had a lot of adversity all winter long and I want to be free of it now.  Being housebound during the very cold winter we just had really increased the tummy pot and seat spread.  Now it’s time to start walking those extra pounds off I think.  The little strip mall is about a mile away and I walk there regularly every other day or so.  I might even get out my bike and head for the bike path from here to Xenia – a distance of about 8 miles.  Good, hard, workout.

Muy ubber lippp is ded

There is nothing like Novocaine (or whatever the dentists use to torture you before drilling) for making you talk like an idiot.  What they really need is a tiny little syringe that deadens everything before they use the horse needle on you.  There is nothing like having the dentist saunter nonchalantly towards you with his hand behind his back; he might even break into a song or begin whistling.  Then, in a fit of glee, he wraps his arm around the back of your head, puts his knee in your lap, and jabs your gum with a 2-foot long needle.  If it were over in a flash, that would be fine, but he is always ‘adjusting’ the angle, moving the tip over and under your teeth, while thumping the end of the syringe with a small hammer.

Soon, it is over and he then departs while waiting for it to take effect.  Your lip begins to feel heavy.  It will start to droop into your lap.  You amuse yourself by flapping it to and fro and going “b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b” while drooling on your feet.

Soon, playtime is over and the excavation begins.  “Mr. Sucky” comes into play by attaching itself to your inner lip while the dentist begins drilling – for toenails.  A banshee whine builds up and smoke begins to appear as the broken tooth is reduced to a small stub suitable for attaching another tooth.  Meanwhile, the dentist’s hench-person starts to move Mr. Sucky around vacuuming up all the pieces of tooth.  This goes on for about ten or twelve hours until the dentist announces that he’s ready for the – and I think I heard this right – “dentawhizzle fernbladdernattile coverage upper”.

Sure enough, the hench-person begins measuring, pouring, shaking, and stirring “things” behind your back.  This, to me, sounds like preparations for a cast roughly the size of Hoover Dam.  This person then hands a bucket of “stuff” to the dentist who begins to ladle it into the excavation.  Trowel after trowel is applied until it feels like he has bricked up my tonsils.

Next comes the curing period.  This is done by a contraption that is shaded and emits Gamma rays (I think) as everyone (but me, of course) hides behind my lip (which is now the size of a small car). The air turns purple when he presses the starter and waits for it to beep.  In about an hour it does.

“Now”, he says, “it’s time to trim it into a tooth.”

He sets about with various drills, brushes, and other arcane instruments he found in the back of a drawer. I can hear the sanders and power drill as he shapes the tooth into something approximating the tooth that used to be there.  Meanwhile, Mr. Sucky is still slurping away maniacally as he occasionally ventures around my mouth in search of some bricks that fell off the tooth.

Putting away the jackhammer, the dentist announces that it is time to ‘check the byte’.  Now, being a programmer, I know what checking the byte means, but somehow I’m not sure how he is going to do this.  He reaches out for the little piece of carbon paper (you DO remember carbon paper, don’t you?), places it under the tooth and tells me to ‘bite down’.  Aha!  That’s what he meant by “byte”.

Several places have been marked by the carbon paper as ‘unsafe’ and he starts stripping off layers of cement to accomodate my opposing tooth.  Slowly this process continues until he pronounces ‘done’.

One last bucket of water to the mouth, a good vacuuming with Mr. Sucky and all is well in tooth land. I grab my upper lip in both hands and thank the dentist for saving my tooth.  It comes out “Thunk yoo dok fer phixing muh toof”.

The end