You have to be smarter than the lies you tell.

5 Jan

Like pretty much everyone I know, I hate going to the dentist (even for routine cleanings) because I know I’m going to get lectured about my flossing habits. Or lack thereof.

Other than my sister, I don’t know anyone who flosses daily. And I think even my sister would admit that the only way she’s able to work it in is by standing in the middle of the living room, carrying on a full conversation with her hands and a foot of floss in her mouth at the end of the night.

Her teeth might be grateful, but I’m pretty sure her audience has a different take on it.

Anyway… to deflect some of the lectures, I’ve gotten into a habit of bending the truth a bit when I’m at the dentist. I’ve found that if you don’t fully own up to not flossing very regularly, the hygienist will provide you with a plausible alternative excuse.

To wit – about a year ago the conversation went something like this:

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Just when you think you know someone…

3 Jan

…there’s a record scratch and you’re all, “What the hell?!”

At least, that’s how it played out this weekend in Berkeley Springs. We were walking down the main street (better known as Washington Street, in case you’re curious) when I spotted an SPCA poster with photos of animals through the window of a consignment shop.

“Alan!” I yelled. Kind of like this:

And a few minutes later, there we were, standing in front of a large  poster board display of cats and dogs needing adoption. I was studying the descriptions when I heard Alan say, “Do you think they planned this, or is this song a coincidence?”

I stepped back and listened, registering Sarah McLachlan’s song, “Angel.”

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So classy, we wore our matching hoodies.

2 Jan

For the second year running, Alan and I rang in the new year at the state lodge in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia.

Just because you’re probably expecting it, I’m not going to make any jokes about Deliverance. (I think I’m maturing: this trip I didn’t even harass Alan with remarks like, “You sure have a pretty mouth” when he’d leave me to go to the bathroom.)

But I will share a snippet from the drive on Saturday when, utterly hungover from New Year’s Eve, Alan and braved the curvy backroads to find a bar called “Hillbilly Heaven” where people assured us we would be able to watch the bowl games.

“Hillbilly Heaven. Any chance that’s what they tell all the city folks just to set us up if we have to stop and ask for directions?” I continued, “I mean, can you imagine pulling over and asking someone where Hillbilly Heaven is? Sounds kind of insulting.”

“The way this road is going, I’m wondering if they’re sending us to Hillbilly Hell,” Alan offered.

“Hmmm… Hillbilly Hell? So that would be all yuppie-like, where you definitely couldn’t find Pabst Blue Ribbon and where you’d actually need teeth to eat the food, right?”

Definitely going to hell of some sort for that one. Hillbilly or otherwise.

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New year = new bed. A big girl bed.

2 Jan

There are some purchases that make a person feel adult: like one’s first car or first home. For me, it was a new bed. (Ironically, I realized I also purchased a Blanky Boo Boo this week. We call that a “juxtaposition,” people.)

I’ve been sleeping on the same mattress for 12 years. Which would be impressive even if it were a pimped out Posturepedic I received as a hand-me-down from my parents. Unfortunately, this bed’s pedigree is even more dubious… I bought it for $50 off a girl whose room in a group house I took over in DC.

Nothing says high-class like a no-name mattress bought in cash off a stranger.

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There’s only one situation in which a cold shower is appropriate.

30 Dec

Last night I had a massage appointment at 8:30. (I KNOW – if you’ve been reading closely, that makes THREE massages in THREE weeks. Sheer awesomeness as I deplete my Flex Spending Account.)

Anyway, I started the day with sunrise yoga and was planning to cap the day off by hitting the pool for a half hour workout of kick laps before my massage.

I drove there.

I parked.

I changed.

And because the DC pools insist on everyone showering before entering the pool, I went to the showers (nevermind that I had taken one at home about three hours prior). But here’s the thing: the shower was FREEZING.

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