George, where are the teeth directions????

It probably took more courage than I had, but as my last remaining eight teeth began to fall apart, decay, ache, I looked for a good dentist. Lew's secretary was good enough to make me aware of a dental clinic on Redwood Road. I called and made an appointment. Drove up. Big new building -- fancy. Oh, oh. As my hand pushed the door open I felt a $100 nudge to my hand. Looked around the semi-circular rotunda. My dentist's door was the first of five I noticed. Another door push ($100). There was an unusual television set with the latest news scrolling across the bottom of the screen -- another green bill floated away. I was welcomed and invited into an office with many diploma's and met the dentist. We didn't waste much time selling me the top of the line in the latest plastic teeth, connected to my mouth by four properly placed implants. Now we switched from note pad to contract material. In a way I was prepared for a few zeros, but when he started with a 7 followed by one, two, three zeros. STOP! Oh my gosh! $7,000. Does that cover pulling my teeth also? He was quick to mention that dental surgery is handled by another dentist. His charge is also $7,000 plus $150 for removal of each tooth; another $8200. I met this dentist. His office is mirror-glass lined shelves holding all sorts of fantastic ships. What a nice guy. ka-ching, ka-ching. We set up the whole thing for week from today -- next Monday. Oh yes, I was also told to bring in a check, money order or cash. On a good day that could be arranged. BUT this was the week that the stock market took the plunge of death. What to do. What to do. (Well, it sort of took my mind off the surgery). The day arrived. I took the prescribed amoxicillin, a deep breath, my good support system (Kat) and was directed to the chair. I was given a headset that kept me entertained with show tunes. However, the three hours of drilling became louder than the music. I was connected to an oxygen check and blood pressure cuff. A couple of times the little bells went off and I was asked to take some deep breaths. Does everyone hold their breath at the dentist? Just wondered. They kept asking me if I was all right and I kept asking how much longer. The dentist periodically reported to Kat and asked her if she would like to take a break and they would call her when I was finished. Four hours and I was through. I had to return the next day to have the teeth screwed in and was told to go out and have a steak for lunch. They wanted to prove to me that these teeth will work. I had three bites of a steak and kept it for the future. My mouth was pretty sore for a week -- Jello, mashed potatoes, ice cream etc. and then it happened. The anti-biotic back-fired. I broke out in the most amazing hives -- more like a chemical burn. This is too long. My thoughts on hives will follow another time. I just think George Washington had the right idea. I should have paid more attention to whittling. I probably could have whipped up a pretty good set of teeth.

I Love Baseball!!!

Through the 1940's and 50's I was a radio "Game of the Day" Yankee fan. I became personally acquainted with Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, Yogi Berra, Allie Reynolds etc, etc. My sister Nancy and I listened with interest, as the Yankees climbed to the World Series and pretty much beat all of their opponents. Knowing our interest, our dad said if we would write to the New York Chamber of Commerce and find the baseball schedule for the summer of 1951 he would plan us a trip seeing as many games as we could. That was generous since his loyalties lay with the National League Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants. His word was good. We went to Chicago (White Sox), St. Louis, Boston (Red Sox), Washington (Senators) and ended up in New York, where I pretty much kissed the ground, at the famous Yankee Stadium. With that historical building now defunct , I figured that I was pretty much through with baseball. Actually it started happening when youngest son Kyle finished his college baseball days. I watched him progress from a little kid with a great deal of enthusiasm to a full-fledged short stop equal to any in the major leagues including Phil Rizzuto. (SS, NYY, 1950+) Kyle would do this stretch thing on second that always resulted in a double play. WOW! I loved it! Well, a couple of weeks ago my granddaughter Alisha said she was playing girls softball. It was on a Saturday and at the same time as another of my favorites the BYU Cougar football game was being played. Alisha won out. She was super charged as she pitched a sterling game, striking many out and smacking the ball well also. I was quick to remember that her sisters Amanda and Shanna both had been terrific pitchers/ball players and passed it on. Her dad was coaching between his trips to Alaska and Hawaii. I was struck once again by my love of this game and the people playing it. However, I did give in to leaving the double header to watch the second half of a well-played football game. Well, yesterday Amanda called to see if I was interested in coming to a slow pitch game she was playing with the WBC Krew (I'm not sure what that is). I was ready four hours in advance. If I took time to describe the team it would take too long, but let me say they were a different sort. The lady sitting on one side of me called the one outfielder "Monster". It was a unisex game. There were a couple or three monsters and yet there, on first base, was my little Amanda -- with her signature red and white bows in her long blonde hair. I happened to be eating a taco (courtesy of Brian) when the other team hit a hard grounder through second and third which was fielded and got the man going to second. As I looked at Amanda, at first, the ball came swiftly, but not to the bag. She did a split that was longer than her heighth, grabbing the ball and making the double play. I choked, as I inhaled the taco, didn't blink, regretted not having the camera ready and listened to the lady yelling, "Way to go, Splitzy!" Evidently she has done this before. Kat, Alisha and Brian sat nonchallantly, as I gasped, "Did you see that?" Amanda yelled from the field, "That one was for you, grandma." What an honor. . . Later another team wanted her to play first base at their game, but there is a law against moving players in the same league. Amanda handed me the mit and said, "Why don't you do it grandma?" Oh if only . . . . . . . I really do love baseball and the people playing it!!!!