The hated 8 came back to bite me today!

I can't believe it's only day 3 in our magical mystery journey - today it felt more like day 73! By the way I should explain the symbolism of my blog picture. That's me on the flying leaf with Angelica my support buddy. We're heading towards butterfly land. I'm turning over a new leaf - get it? and the butterfly is the symbol of transformation and I'm singing a happy song...

"Beautiful butterfly, joyfully free, no longer awkward or earthbound to be,
the way it has changed, tells what is happening to me. The old me is going, my spirit is renewing..."

Anyway nuff of that soppy nonsense, I'll bet you want to hear how the hated 8 came back to bite me today.

It became abundantly clear when I awoke this morning that this was not going to be one of those pleasurable, lazy hazy SA days - you know when you kick off your shoes and slob around the house and tell everybody "I'm OD" (off-duty) and they shout back "Yes mum we know you're odd!". I was howling like a banshee suffering from an excruciating tooth ache in my upper east side. In fact the tooth has been bothering me even more than the SWP (shopping withdrawal pain). I didn't want to tell you about that in case you thought I was a real martyr. And seeing as I don't wallow in self pity and all that...

I had an appointment with the dentist for 9.00 a.m. sharp (preferably 8.45 a.m.) but first I had to get Vicky to her school for a mathematics test at 9.00. I'm a mother for Tut's sake - I'm a dab hand at having to be at several places at the same time! We arrived at the school at 8.46 which left me 14 minutes (not counting time killing pedestrians) to get to a destination that would normally take 20-23 mins. approx. and I hadn't even my face made up yet. I flew - literally flew and made up my face at each red light. Somehow, rushing to the dentist didn't give me the same adrenalin fix as getting to the shops on Boxing day. Still...I arrived at my punctuality-obsessed dentist's office at 9.03 and he was all ready and raring to go - waiting for me of course! He is sporting a moustache now and it looks really odd - I'm afraid to say he now bears a chilling resemblance to Hitler. But he is such a darling of a man - should I tell him to drop the tache?

Two seconds later - pleasantries dispensed - I'm lying down, all the fight gone from me, with my mouth wide open, and at the mercy of Dr. Hitler lookalike. Hm..hmm...he keeps saying looking into my extremely painful orifice and pearly browns. Hm..hmm he continues. (is he punishing me now because I haven't flossed since my first communion?) Would he ever do something - like take the bloody tooth out - anything!

He got out his weapons of mass destruction and began to squirt ice into my mouth, hosing down each resident tooth on the upper east side. Eventually one resident reacted violently "THAT'S IT" I shouted - "THAT'S HIM". "Yes Sir" That's my P-Spot". His assistant looked at me kindly (I had given them oranges and chocolates at Xmas so she was being really nice to me). Dr. Hitler look-alike then got his little dentist hammer out and began to bang on the roof of each of the 3 suspect teeth to further ascertain which one was 'IT'. I put my finger on the one I thought was the culprit and he said it was different from the one I had said earlier - it was all so confusing - for him and for me.

"O.K." he continued, dangerously intense, and the bib now covering his nazi moustache. "It's either tooth #16, #17 or #18. He is very precise at the best of times (most likely a Virgo). "I'll bet it is #17" I offered, trying to help - the tables had turned. "You see any number that comes to an 8 doesn't like me - we're not compatible" I whispered timidly, scorched beneath his masterful gaze. The assistant smiled kindly again - they're trained not to laugh. Guess what? we eventually discovered that the carnassial culprit was no other than tooth no. 17! - Take a bow # 8 - you've done it again!!

Root canal work on #17 is something I can look forward to as soon as they can get me in, but in the meantime Delisha has to dole out $100 for a consultation with an Endodontic Surgeon tomorrow morning - Endo? that one is new on me. Do they end peoples lives? And yes, I would count this one as an 'essential' - not a luxury. As it so turns out Vicky has a big job on tomorrow with her Orthodontist. So we can both look forward to another bitingly tense day.

Finally - I earned a few brownie points for thrift today - despite the tramua of this morning - Not as traumatic as the fact I had to get up early to make us home made cappuccinos as we had run out of coffee - why? because I was determined to drive into town today to get 2 lbs of Starbucks in Chapters where they give you a 20% discount when you buy 2 lbs. - Trumpets please!! However, I could only find a 20 mins. max parking space so had to dash into Starbucks at Chapters. I ran all the way and just by the skin of my teeth - (YAW why did I mention 'teeth' ) anyway you know what I mean - It was a race between me and the Meter Monster as to who would reach my car first. I beat him! T.G. because the 20 mins had expired - just!

They are demons in Victoria for giving you tickets. Once the MM gave me one because I hadn't parked my car directly parallel to the meter. (it was likely 1/8th of an inch off). Rumour has it they carry rulers around with them and measuring tapes. Some even tie you up and whip you. (that might be a young wives tale). The day I got the unwanted slip, I could see him in the distance writing out the ticket and ran over to fight with him, (almost getting knocked down) because I knew I had loads of time left in the meter - he explained why he was giving me one - B.....D! I uttered to myself - his wife must have withheld favours last night. If you are married to one - be kind - do the world a favour , and unwind the beast before he goes to work.

I know I know - it's not entirely fair to tar all ticket dispensers with the same brush. I've had a couple of scrapes with the gentlemen in uniform - and believe me - some of them are suckers for a sob story, a blonde and an Irish accent!

One Saturday morning in Calgary when flying up 14th St. to bring 5 year old Vicky to ballet classes, I could hear sirens blaring, horns honking - there was a fierce racket going on outside. I remained oblivious as I had a mission on hand to get my gorgeous little blonde Shirley Temple lookalike to her ballet. Suddenly a face appeared beside me. He wasn't smiling either as he beckoned me to stop. Who me? I asked incredulously - "YES YOU LADEE!"

He directed me up a side street until I could stop - and as sure as God it felt like a scene from the Godfather where they put a bullet in your head! My hands began to tremble and my heart stopped for a minute. Mr. Mafia himself looked into the car and when he saw my little golden angel in the back seat, looking out angelically at him, "who's that strange man mommy?" his face crumpled like the incredible hulk before he sheds his skin.

He had got me on 3 offences all in one go! surely worthy of a bonus at the station - no drivers licence on me (left the bag at home I was in such a hurry) no current tax disc (I had bought it the previous day and forgot to put it on - damn!) and leaving the best for last I was travelling 30 klicks above the speed limit! (I was a harried mum that morning and had learnt my lesson!) I explained about the ballet, and after a discrete telling off he told me I was lucky it was him. He pretended to write me a ticket because his boss was watching him and when I got home and opened it up - it was blank - all blank. As we say in Ireland - God Bless him - may he be the father of a Bishop!

Can you imagine my angst if I had got a $30 ticket from the MM today and all for a saving of $6 on 2lbs of Starbucks Breakfast Blend coffee beans!! Now wouldn't the devil and his brats have had the last laugh!!

Sleep tight...

Delisha xxx