Diary of An Angry Tooth

Personally, I hate teeth; they are a necessary evil. My oral history is filled with bad teeth. This past Friday I had to have an angry wisdom tooth dug out by a small town country dentist. This guy played pain tag for a week, leaping from tooth to tooth. I wasn't exactly sure who the pain culprit was. After an office visit both dentist and I decided to wait it out, to see if the real pain meister would please stand up. Let us know before we drill, baby drill.

And he did. Thursday, he revealed himself in the form of breathtaking pain whenever the tongue came too near or the jaw closed. From jaw to ear, no doubt about it, it was the last wisdom tooth remaining. And he wasn't going down without one last opinion.

I have dental insurance, yet could not afford an oral surgeon which my dentist recommended due to the "walking roots" of this tooth. After checking prices and considering the two kids I have enrolled in college, an oral surgeon wasn't a choice.

I drove 30 miles away to the drowsy town of Sardis where a well-seasoned country dentist operating in a circa 1960's house obliged my request for removal. Bless his caring heart, he pried, elevated, injected numerous sleepy juice injections into my jaw and gassed me away for 2.5 hours to get it out.

I now have the tooth with its gnarled roots on a saucer. Once I get them out, I have a tendency to add to my saved collection. Yes, it's weird. Guess it costs too much just to throw teeth away . . .

Life in the Oxford Slow Lane

It's been a while since getting my driving licence back in the late 70's, but I distinctly remember that four laners have two lanes with the right lane being the slow lane and the left the faster, passing lane of traffic on highways.

So, where is the fast lane around Oxford? It's become a pet peeve of road rage, occasions where I have been accused of having 'potty mouth' by a dear, nameless friend. Both lanes around the outskirts of town have become so freakin' slow, leaving me asking for way too much forgiveness at the end of the day.

So where's the IQ test when administering the licence test? Aren't these folks breaking the law when driving slow in the fast lane? Where are their blue lights? Where's their ticket?

This isn't an isolated driving incident. It happens consistently. Now given my usual pace of between 70 and 80 mph on Highway 6 might be a bit swift for the average traveler, I refuse to drive 55 to 60 mph in both lanes. I've got stuff to do. If sightseeing is the objective, I'll grab a bike. If driving while chatting on the cell phone is the objective, I thought that was illegal, too.

How about some big Red Letter Edition signs painted on the pavement: "SLOW LANE FOR DRIFTERS" - - "FAST LANE FOR FOLKS WITH PLANS?"

Someone please do something.

I've tried coping mechanisms such as picking up vice-grip hand squeezers at yard sales and installing meditation podcasts on the iPod. This only gets you so far after about five miles of stopped up traffic fueled by absolute clueless drivers. Clueless, driving side by side cars at 50-some-odd mph.

God forgive me, but these folks have to be smarter than they appear to be. They just have to be. Sometimes, I think I have a right to my 'potty mouth.'

My Trek, My Goal, My Omentum

Finally. Summer is time away from a harrowing teaching schedule. So with the recent purchase of a Trek racing bike (Yes, I am too excited . . .), I have set a BIG fitness goal for the next 6 weeks - - train for a long distance charity ride. The aim is for the lungs and the butt to endure 30 to 50 mile rides by September.

Several rides in the back of my mind are: The MS 150 for multiple sclerosis, a ride from Jackson to Vicksburg or Memphis to Tunica is an Ouch. (And I need several sponsors for a $300 donation. Anyone?) The HOW101 ride is for (Hope on Wheels) breast cancer, in Leiper's Fork, TN along the Natchez Trace is a wow of scenery.

Cycling is a multi-benefit sport sport. My memory jolts way back to childhood on a bike that wouldn't quit until dark. And the best news - - it's good for my ticker, lungs, and omentum, a.k.a. excess adipose tissue around the midriff that chokes the life out of your internal organs. Here's a bit info from a UK website worthy of consideration for cyclists, wannabes and for those that love them http://www.bikeforall.net/index.php:

"Regular cyclists enjoy a fitness level equal to that of a person ten years younger. (Source: National Forum for Coronary Heart Disease Foundation, Sharp)
Cycling at least twenty miles a week reduces the risk of heart disease to less than half that for non-cyclists who take no other exercise (Source: British Heart Foundation, Morris)
If one third of all short car journeys were made by bike, national heart disease rates would fall by between 5 and 10 percent (Bikes not Fumes, CTC, 1992). Info from BikeBiz, with thanks.
During rush-hour, a bicycle is about twice as fast as a car - good if you hate traffic jams!"

My favorite fodder for wheel thought from this website: "Bicycles require no road tax, no insurance, no licensing, no breakdown recovery services, and above all no fuel bills . . ."

Now, IF my body will agree and the rain will stop . . . .

H1N1 Connective Force

A funny thing happened on May 7, 2009. The Centers for Disease Control made the following statement: "Early data on the H1N1 (swine) flu suggest it has the "potential for efficient, rapid spread among countries." Spread among countries with a point of origin in Mexico?

With symptoms similar to traditional flu, it is also transmitted in a very similar manner. How is it that someone in Mexico incubates a virus and it spreads like hot butter through continents? As of now, there stands 1639 confirmed cases in the U.S. Thankfully none in Mississippi, yet.

Suddenly face masks and gloves are as reasonable and fashionable as Chuckie Taylors. While many of us like to tout our national Independence, H1N1 proves that we are ALL indeed connected. We are separate, but undeniably linked with many Americans sporting the public surgical gear to prove it.

We breathe the same air, we touch many of the same items, in fact we come in contact with each other in cross-continental ways without leaving our mainland. It is fodder worthy of heavy duty consideration.

We are dependant on each other to coexist on this planet. We are biologically interdependent. We share a responsibility for this Earth and it's inhabitants - - whether we are willing participants or not. Think about it: a child contracts a virus from a pig in Mexico, and almost overnight Walgreens is selling out of face masks in Memphis.

H1N1 has taught an impressive lesson. We are as connected as a paper doll chain standing in our own little spot on this planet.

The 100 Mile Diet

Just in time for the Farmer's Market is the 100 Mile Diet, aka the grassroot movement toward eating local within a 100 miles of your home.

Based on the book, "The 100 Mile Diet:  A Year of Local Eating"  authors Alisa Smith and J.B. Mackinnon spent a year consuming food grown from within a 100 mile radius of thier home.  

The bottom line - - get very familiar and friendly with the seasons and the food offered within.

It is a tempting concept: supporting local farmers, cutting down on the carbon footprint, and eating fresh.

One hundred miles of farming includes wheat, which translates into bread products,  translating into my food palate as carbo withdrawal.

I can definitely live without the extra carbs stuck to my thights, but it would be a painful plight, as my list of Oxonian wheat farmers is a bit short.

A slight modification might be in order here- - The 100 Mile Diet Plus A Few Inches connecting to farmland growing wheat.   

What about bananas and pineapples?  The authors didn't report it was an easy way to live.  

But it is a healtheir way to live.  Fresh produce, careful planning of meals, and stomping out processed foods would do a body quite well.