handstories

Tire, Tail, and Tooth

    "Moon Sang Her Story into the Blue"

    Last week I discovered that I can still change a tire.  I was quite pleased to know that I can still consider myself tough enough.

    Wanting, wishing, pretending to be a mermaid in a six-foot across, three-foot-deep wading pool.  Trying to get siblings, friends, neighbor kids to move as fast as possible around the edge to get a current going... and then being able to float in the swirl, feet held together, imagining.

 

    The beginning of yesterday's crown replacement.  It was no fairy tale. 

    When the Novocain kicked in, I started to shake.  Knitting couldn't happen.  Put in earbuds to listen to a book for distraction.  Grinding, drilling, scraping, suctioning, all of it too loud.  My eyes were leaking from behind the sunglasses.  The dentist worried (I know there are a LOT of words about my dental anxiety in my chart).  I assured her that it was just dry eyes from allergies, and it was. 

    And then the Novocain wore off in one spot.  It was readministered, and again, and again, and again, I couldn't count how many times, it happened over and over.  By the second hour, I was crawling out of my skin.  Tapping fingers in random rhythms trying to focus on something else, white knuckling when I could, imagining stitching (needle in, out, thread pulling through, repeat... ), reciting the states in alphabetical order, and then I heard her talking about the temporary crown that she was putting in.

    "TEMPORARY?!  I have to come back?!"

    More leaking eyes off and on over the next hour.  I told her it was the dry air, so as to move things along, but it wasn't.

    Afterwards, I learned that redheads often have a hard time with Novocain.  I was barely an auburn before the gray, but Dad was a childhood redhead, his sister life-long, my nephew, and others in the family reaching back to the O'Neill clan in Ireland.  Who knew?

    I came home and rested in the garnet moonlight of one of Jude's moons.

    Later there was lamenting to K about how awful it was, how I hate feeling weak.  He says to let it go, that teeth are my Achilles' heel.  It's true, but I still wanted to bite him.

Some stitching, paintings, a memory, and a long processing of letting go...

    "Moon Charms"

    We did not get to see the Super Moon, but I imagined it.

    "Humming of Home"

    The pink print of the house brough back memories of the "kids' cupboard" in my childhood home-where all of our board games, coloring books, crayons, and other odds and ends lived. Including a huge endless roll of wrapping paper with a print similar to this fabric. We were allowed to use the paper any way we liked, and I remember wrapping tp and paper towel tubes and small boxes with it to assemble into a pink and gold castle as a gift for an aunt. What a wonky thing it was!

    On Saturday, I finally agreed to get a new phone.  I've been using Blue's old one that he bought in 2016.  It could barely hold a charge, be charged, and photos in texts, downloads, podcasts, etc. had to be deleted regularly to make room for any new photos.  It was long past time, but I hate dealing with technology things.  K did the research of what to get and came with me to the phone store to translate at 3:00. 

    By 4:00, having fun with the young man who was helping us (who called me "zesty"), I had a new phone loaded with all of the things from the old one.

    But then... he couldn't erase the old one, which was being turned in for credit.  He started some process, saying that it might take an hour.  Feeling insecure about leaving all of my technology life behind with strangers, I took K. home and returned at 4:30.

    I sat there, punching in my passwords over and over.  Some secret code was needed.  At one point, Blue was on speaker phone from Chile.  Nothing could be figured out.  Around 7:00 I announced that I was no longer feeling zesty.  Around 7:30, it was decided that it was impossible and that I would keep both phones and lose the credit.  Fine.  But a manager was needed, and wouldn't be there until Monday, and I couldn't take the old phone with me until then.

    Feeling more insecure and paranoid (and exhausted and hungry), and after being reassured that everything was still on the new phone, I started deleting things off of the old phone before handing it over, starting with all of my texts...

    He then had another idea, began the process,... and accidently cleared the new phone.  The texts were gone.  Including some late night writing I had sent to myself to copy off another time, and a few from my dad during his last months, and, and, and...

    7:45   "They're gone?"

        "Yes, I'm sorry."

    Heavy sigh.  "This is a first world problem.  Letting it go."

        He looked relieved.

    "But I'm heartbroken.  Bye." 

        Poor guy.

    “Corliss” (meaning "carefree person") was stitched on Sunday as a way of brightening and lightening things up.  

 

    Yesterday, back at the store with K.  Explained it all to new guy.  Who started to try again.

    "If I am here for another hour or more, I WILL cry," I warned him.

    K added something not helpful.

    "I will bite YOU," I told him.

    The guy went and got the manager.  I explained again.  She said that it could be erased by the geek squad across town.  We drove, waited, and two hours later, I walked back into the phone store.  The manager and worker called across the room of customers, with a few other employees who had witnessed Saturday's fiasco looking on, "Did it work?"

    Speechless, I held out the phone, placing it into her two open hands.  "Hooray!" they cheered.

    "I hope the rest of your day goes well," she said.

    I opened my mouth, shut it, and just gave a whole arm wave as I went out the door.

    "Moon Joy"

    And really, everything is more than swell enough in the big picture of things.