I want to tell you that I was brave, that it didn't hurt, that it was an easy procedure and that I came home and laughed about it afterward. The problem is that none of these statements are true. The truth falls more between sobering and horrifying, and does not reflect well on me. I cried through most of the procedure, it hurt badly, and as soon as I got home I downed my first round of Lortab even though my procedural anesthetic was still in place -- because I needed to numb the memories of the procedure as quickly as possible.The dentist asked me afterwards how I felt.

whirrrrr! "Um, Amy…" She paused. "I really don't like what I'm seeing here.""So wha do you thinh we sh…"

(It's hard to talk with all that equipment in your mouth.)

Certain conversational gambits should come with warning flags. I've decided that any conversation I start that begins with the phrase "So I was on the elliptical, and I was thinking…" should be treated with the same level of skepticism and distrust given to any conversation that starts with "There was this one time at band camp…" Nine times out of ten, it's going to be a boring, dull recitation -- but it's the pesky tenth time around that'll get you when you're not looking, and make you wish you carried a big fat wad of mental floss in your pocket.

"Would you be interested?"

« perhaps. »

"I know I'm asking a lot of you. I can't offer you a long-term commitment - not even one that will last you through the summer. I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not, and I don't want you to get your hopes up. I see our relationship as being intense, but in the end, only temporary. In a few months, I'll have to move on."

« it would be foolish to hope for more. at least you are being honest. »

"Shall we see if we fit?"

« it wouldn't hurt. »

Taken from an email sent this morning…

I'd planned to be serious and contemplative and say something marginally insightful or interesting regarding the mess that is the legal fight surrounding Terri Schiavo, but then I managed to splatter chocolate yogurt down most of my bare leg, and most of my thought processes got devoted to whether or not I actually had the flexibility to lick most of it off.I thought about doing it, and then I realized that I've apparently inhaled WAY too much cat fur, because no sane human would ever admit to thinking such a thing. So I just reached down and scooped it off with a finger.

Hey, my leg was clean -- but, I think, the post is pretty much lost to the ether.

We'll get back to the flexibility issue after a brief, maundering segue into the realm of the serious.

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