To the Dentist...

Call me weird. I like going to the dentist. I think I always have. Sure... when we were kids we used to get a little toy or treat or something, and now we are lucky if we get a toothbrush or cute wee package of dental floss. That wasn't it. I find it relaxing. Reclining back in a chair, staring up at a bright light, with someone's fingers in your mouth, scraping your teeth with a sharp metal instrument, in turn spurting jets of water and suctioning the excess fluid out, the whir of a miniature floor polisher with gritty pink goop buffed onto your teeth. Then, the fluoride treatment, with more suction, but you get to control that part. I know it doesn't sound that great, but you come away with a mouth feeling fresh and shiny... new almost. One of only two places in the civilized western world where you can gargle and spit with impunity. Can't beat that.

Ah... the dentist. You didn't really go to see the dentist himself, although he does make a brief appearance to review your x-rays and do a cursory examination of the bone structures within your facial orifice. No... your experience at the dentist's office rests entirely in the hands of the dental hygienist. I guess I've just been lucky.

I wasn't planning on writing about going to the dentist, but thought that I might post a couple pictures I took on the way there. That then got me to thinking that perhaps... just perhaps...  the trip to the dentist's office was somethng more than that. Way back when, it meant that I would have a chance to get out of school... to be on the road with mom and the siblings, to get a treat... and to probably eat out somewhere before we came home.  Later on, as an adult, it meant getting time off from work... time to relax in the dentist's chair, to forget about paperwork and all that other crap. And now, like today, it is the highlight of my existence. Oh... well... that and I splurged on a Raspberry Custard Danish and a Ham and Cheese Croissant afterwards.