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*Every day on my way to work I pass the same car. A white Intrepid with four bumper stickers: 94 HJY, B101 and two Sushi Go stickers.

He’s usually driving about five miles slower than me and we usually glance at each other as I pass him. One co-commuter to the next.

Today, however, things were a little different. As I merged onto Rt. 1 I saw a car quickly approaching in my rear view mirror. Suddenly, Mr. Bumper Sticker flew by me, looking directly at me as he did. I was so surprised! Was he late? Did he see it was me and decided today would be the day he was the faster car? Was this an invitation to rumble?

Ten minutes later I strolled on by him, as he had slowed down to his usual speed. I don’t get it.

*I also passed a school bus with tinted windows. Tinted Windows! When did school buses get pimped out?

I heard that Snoop Dog coaches some youth football league and pimped out their bus like no other. Speakers in the seats, flat screen TVs. Maybe the Westerly School District is taking cues from the Dog himself. What’s next? Gin and juice boxes?

So newsflash: I survived the dentist. And big surprise, it wasn’t such a big deal after all. I really have to work on this anxiety thing. It blows.

I arrived 15 minutes early. I was nervous. Really nervous. I looked around for a magazine but the selection was sub-par. Parenting or Seventeen? Seventeen it is.

“Guest Editor Hillary Duff!!!!” Ooooh boy. This should keep my mind off the dreaded needle for a few seconds. It didn’t. I couldn’t focus on Hillary’s blinding smile, let alone remember if leopard print leggings meant your personality is “eclectic” or “wild.”

So minus the details of filling my cavity….I made it. Yes, the hygienist had to hold my hands. But I’m ok with that.

When I got home Michael was just getting ready to go try out the sailboat for the first time. Did I want to come? Sure did! Visions of us sailing, wind blowing my hair as he took control of the sails all manly-like flashed before my eyes. How romantic! How exciting! How…New England!

Yeah. It didn’t quite go exactly like that.

Let me just say that I know nothing about sailing. Michael was eager to teach me…and he was doing a really good job. He was patient and understanding when I was obviously not steering the boat into the wind like he asked me to. But in his quest to teach me all about sailing, he thought it best to use the correct terminology.

“Wrap the line around that cleat!”

“She’s got [I can’t remember the number] pounds of ballast.” (Or something like that

Huh? Cleat? Like on shoes? Shoes I know. If he was shouting out “Stiletto!” or “Kitten heal!” or “T-Strap!” I’d be great. Of course, he was not. He might as well been speaking another language.

And did you know sailboats lean really far over when they sail? I did not know that.

And then it hit me. A sudden wave of nausea that left me dry heaving over the side of the boat. Greeeeaaaat. Sea sickness. Mom was right. I should have taken Dramamine. Lesson learned.

Eventually, the nausea passed, the boat was pointed into the wind and I looked up at my handsome Boy standing tall in his sailboat, his hair blowing in the wind.

It really wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, I kind of loved it.

In 42 minutes I have to leave work to go to the dentist. Woo-hoo, you might think. But you would think wrong.

I hate the dentist.

If this were a routine cleaning visit I would be ok. But it’s not. It’s a cavity filling visit. A drilling in your tooth, novocaine injecting visit.

I am terrified of getting novocaine. The way some people feel about having their eyes touched is the way I feel about someone sticking a GIANT NEEDLE into my gums. Get the hell away!

It wasn’t always this way. Not until I had my wisdom teeth removed the summer before I started college. I opted not to be put under (what was I thinking??) and had the laughing gas instead. This meant massive amounts of novocaine, including a white-hot, searing pain injection into the roof of my mouth. It brought tears to my eyes.

Have you ever had novocaine in your pallet? It makes a *snap*. Shudder.

So now, over five years later, I would rather stick my hand up an elephant’s butt instead of getting novocaine.

Sure, I’m being a baby. Yeah, it’s not going to be that much novocaine. Right, I’m going to be fine

But I can’t see that right now. All I can see is the potential for BLINDING PAIN.

In preparation for the visit I brought with me to work my toothbrush, (toothpaste already in the work bathroom!) floss and mouthwash. You know you do it too….make your teeth immaculate right before the dentist in the hopes that you will trick them into thinking you’re always that on top of things

Perhaps if I had been so diligent about oral care before I would not be in this position now.


If Kodiak could talk I’m sure he’d tell me:

The best spot in the yard is the wettest, dirtiest spot.

A ride in the car is one of life’s simplest pleasures.

It’s fun to hide biscuits under the couch, behind the door, in the dirt and under the bed.

Bringing all your toys to the door when someone comes home is a sign of love.

The best place to lie down is on your feet while you’re trying to get ready for work.

It’s funny to drink a lot of water, then come put my face on your leg.

My face is cute. Give me treats.

My farts smell worse than boy farts. Get used to it.

I really love peanut butter.

I get jealous when Mom and Dad hug and kiss. I will squeeze myself in between you and whine.

Speaking of squeezing….I like to fit my 120lb body in the tiniest places. Like between the desk and the chair.

And whining….didn’t know I could sound like a little girl, did you?

I don’t like lawnmowers. Or the garbage truck. I will bark at them.

Bark, Bark, Bark, Bark, Bark, Bark. It’s fun to stand in the yard and bark at the sky.

Your hands taste really good. So do your feet. Licking them is fun.

That was a dumb move buying down throw pillows. They taste like geese. I like geese.

I will give you big sad eyes when you leave.

It’s only because I love you.

You know what would be really awful? To be one of those people featured on the news as “America’s Obesity Problem.”

You’re going about your morning, eating your breakfast, ironing your pants (not necessarily at the same time) when BAM! Smack on the screen is your midsection, the CNN ticker gliding over your knees.

There’s no mistaking it’s you. How many people really own that Larry, Mo and Curly tee-shirt? (No, seriously. How many? They need to be confiscated.) Would other people know it’s you? Would you care?

Or what if you were featured in the “Don’ts” section of Glamour? Sure, you thought the tapered, acid wash jeans cinched around your middle, giving you the ever popular “muffin top” was sexy. Yes, the neon, cropped, mesh shirt was popular. In 1986. And where did you ever find a mini-backpack these days? (Mine was black with a brown suede flap. I’m really impressed you found a clear plastic one…they were tough to come by.)

You made these choices. You thought you were styling. Would you consider your 15 minutes in Glamour to be a good thing?

Me? I would be mortified. The prospect of being on the news, for any reason, freaks me out. There is a chance that with the nature of my job this could one day occur. I’m so not looking forward to that.

Good thing I no longer wear red high-tops with Tweety Bird on them.

What? You didn’t wear those? Yeah, um, me neither…..

I’ve mentioned I don’t like grocery shopping. But it’s inevitable. Eventually I have to break down and go. Today was that day.

It wasn’t going to badly. I started off getting a parking spot relatively close to the entrance. My cart did not have a squeaky, off kilter wheel. Only one of the guys behind the deli counter was staring and it wasn’t the usual icky guy with the neck acne.

Fruits and vegetables? Check. (Healthy choices, healthy choices!) Chicken? Check. 27 different kinds of drinks because Michael is always thirsty and we go through them like it’s our job? Check.

Doritos. ON SALE!!! Mmmmm cheesy, crunchy goodness. No. No, no, no! Walk away from the Doritos. Phew…that was close.

And then…the cereal aisle. I reach for my usual box of Special K with almonds. But wait! So many other choices! Do I want the Maple Frosted Mini-Wheats? What about the Cracklin’ Oat Bran? Or the 3,000 different [Brand] CRUNCH!? (I mean, seriously, does everything need to be crunchy now? Does that crunch really make it that much better?)

And what does Michael want? Do I get one we both like an risk not having enough for a bowl at the end of the week? Or do I get him one of his own? And which one? And why are they all so expensive?

The struggle continues for a good three or four minutes. I am literally pacing the aisle back and forth….from Post to General Mills. Back and forth, back and forth. What do I do?

A lone mother with a cart full of three rowdy toddlers makes it in and out of the aisle with no trouble. What is my problem? This is easy. JUST MAKE A CHOICE!

Ok! Quaker Oat Squares for me, Maple Frosted Mini-Wheats for Michael.

Oat Squares? When have you ever bought Oat Squares? Is this logical? Is this really the best decision????? I slowly back out of the aisle.

Ugh. I hate grocery shopping.

Message received this morning:

“Hi Molly, this is Donna calling from [dentist’s] office. Just calling to confirm your appointment for Thursday. Please confirm you got this message by calling to confirm your appointment. Thank you.”

So what do I say?

“I’m calling to confirm your message confirming my confirmed appointment?”

*What is it about the hours between 3 and 5? I like my job (I’m serious. I really do like my job!) but even with stuff to do those last two hours just drag.

*I mentioned how The Last Kiss is completely heart-wrenching. So I’m coming down from the bad after taste of the movie as I’m scanning the channels last night. I stop on Nip/Tuck. Just as the married plastic surgeon is cheating on his pregnant wife! What the hell?! Insert psycho internal conflict:

-Oh my god he’s going to cheat on me.

-No he’s not. He loves you. He would never cheat on you.

-But what if he meets some perky brunette (ahhh die Rachel Bilson) and has an affair.

-He loves you

-Arrrrrrggghhhhhh!!!

Cut to Michael reassuring me that, no, he would never cheat on me. He loves me. He will always love me.

I’m sticking to romantic comedies from now on.

*I have to go grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. The responsible part of me heads to the chicken, the vegetables and healthy cereal, stocking up for the week ahead.

The irresponsible part of me (the one that is still an 18-year old loose in the store for the first time…”I’m on my own! I can eat whatever I want!”) is eyeing the peanut butter cup ice cream and the Doritos. The thing is, I’m not 18 anymore. When I was 18 I could eat a huge bowl of pasta with butter and Parmesan cheese (mmmmmm), then turn around and eat half a pint of ice cream and never see a fluctuation in my weight.

Yeah. That’s not the case anymore. I guess I’ll be heading directly to the fruits and vegetables. Although let’s be honest, when Michael works late I sometimes still eat that big bowl of pasta. It’s so easy.

And SO GOOD.



Check out cashmere wraps, shawls, scarves and blankets, like this beautiful cashmere baby blanket at the Pashmina Store.

Want to see a movie that will make you question all men and leave you feeling emotionally unstable? Then go see The Last Kiss.

I think Clink said it best.

Blaaaaah.

Carrie Underwood is going to be the spokes pop idol for a literacy program in Oklahoma called “Read Ya’ll.”

Oh. My.

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