When I sent an email to someone describing my day’s highs and lows, she pointed out that my story – or at least part of it – was gross. I suppose she is right. I do admit that teeth sagas have elements of the macabre (especially when they entail such drama as wrestling something loose from a bone it grew to love), but I think there's fun to be had even there, at the office of a maxillofacial surgeon. I mean, the name itself – maxillofacial -- has overtones of something good. It all sounds like biting into the maximally delicious mille feuilles, no?
But really, more significantly, I miss my good camera, the one that shattered on 40th and Fifth.. My little point and shoot is okay for the straightforward photos of fall colors outside.
But it does not inspire me to look for bigger and better things. I’m content writing about the maxillofacial aspects of life in the meanwhile. One could do worse, I suppose.