I saw my dentist yesterday.
It had been a while. Quite a while, but as I understand it, my saliva is magic and my teeth don't collect much build-up of tartar over time. My gums are healthy, too. I am lucky.
The only bad news is — well, ta-dah! It's good news: I'm going to be a princess. I'm getting a crown.
I have to buy it myself, though. Since I lost my job I don't have dental insurance.
My dentist asked me what I've been doing since my forced retirement, and whenever she took her latex-gloved fingers out of my mouth, I was able to answer in snippets.
"I'm spending some time on a blog."
(Scrape, scrape, scrape. Squirt, suck.)
"It's a food blog."
(Dig, dig, dig. Scrape, squirt.)
"I take pictures."
(Poke, poke. Jiggle, wiggle, uh-oh, X-rays; bite, ow.)
Finally, when the major excavations were finished, she told me she'd been out to dinner a few nights earlier, and the waiter announced that among the specials that evening was Sole with Eleven Pounds of Sauce.
"Sole with Eleven Pounds of Sauce?" cried my dentist, aghast. Well, you would be too.
No, said the waiter.
Sole with a Lemon Ponzu Sauce.