AT THE DENTIST'S

I have lots of teeth. All but one wisdom. So I have had a lot of dentist visits over the years.

Roy Miller was my first dentist. He was a friend of my dad's, so that's where we went for awhile. He was a starter for the MTV Rams 1920 State Championship basketball team. That's right--1920.

His office wasn't totally unlike the one in the picture. I got to ride in my first elevator to go up to the 5th floor of the JB Rodger's Building to his office.

All I remember about him was that he hurt me whatever he did to my mouth.

My next dentist was Dr. Vaught who lived two doors down the street from us. I don't know if Dr. Miller retired or if we just switched. Dr. Vaught didn't seem to hurt as much. Once he took out a tomato seed from a tooth. No amount of brushing, picking or gouging (I'm so old that we didn't have floss in those days) would get at the wedged in seed. Afterwards, the doctor would let me pick out a charm, the kind that used to be in penny machines. One I snagged a charm shaped like a hunk of ham. It didn't take much to satisfy me back then. He also gave me a dentist mirror, crooked so I could look at my back and upper teeth.

My next two dentists, Drs Neal and Woodrome, I played a little golf with, so they took it easy on me. Well, at least Dr. Woodrome who is related to me. Then his son who was a student of mine.

On to Az where Dr. Itkoe sings to me while working on my teeth. He told me he doesn't care if he sounds bad to me; he only sings well to his lady patients. And for two root canals, I've seen Dr. Shyck. He is the easiest of all. I went to sleep both times. He wants me to give a testimonial to how a root canal is not such an ordeal.

Their offices are a little nicer than Dr. Miller's. And I think their tools and technology have come a long way, too.

I still kinda miss the charms though.

SOCIAL GRACES

One thing I'd like to do in public is to lick. Literally clean my plate by licking it clean.

Especially ice cream in a bowl. What a waste not to get every last bit.

Mixing bowls, too. They could sell the chance to clean a mixing bowl. "I'll have a New York Strip bone-in medium with a salad, French dressing (I know, no one has French dressing anymore, but it's still my favorite) baked potato with butter on the side and a bowl from the tres leche dessert. Not the desert, that would be too filling, but a good old lick of the bowl with the egg beaters would suffice."

I mean it couldn't be any worse than the stupid bib they put on you in some restaurants when you're eating crab legs. It couldn't be worse than a bowl to toss your ribbones in. Or the restaurants where they serve you peanuts in the shell and encourage you to throw the empty shells on the floor. There's even a famous Missouri restaurant that bills itself as "home of the throwed rolls". Hey, it's not as bad as people who talk with food in their mouths, some waiting to load up before initiating a conversation.

Lickers of the world unite. We can make this socially acceptable. The Colonel tried it with "finger lickin'good", but he didn't go far enough. Licking the bucket wouldn't work though. Too much like kicking the bucket.

But a finishing touch to a piece of piewould be a good plate-cleaning lick. Lots of desserts would work. With one caveat-- only lick your own plate. I mean, we are civilized. Somewhat.

THE ORIGINAL RED MEAT

Ok, check it out. My old George Foreman grill had had it. The ignitor hadn't worked well for years, having developed the proverbial mind of its own. When it didn't choose to ignite, even a long match could be hazardous. After a big puff blow up that nearly ignited me, I decided to put it to bed. A whole lot of world class steaks, brats, burgers, ribs, and chops had been prepared there. I'm sentimental about grilling.

A new grill, an infra-red grill (what are you going to do, cook at night now? our son quipped) a Char-Broil was purchased at Home Depot and I was in business. By the way, it still uses propane, but it sears more evenly front and back, even on fish. No more hot and cold spots, the salesman assured.

So why the picture and caption about the buffalo? Two weeks prior, I had bought a bison hot dog at a farmers' market. I love bison, elk, and venison. The dog was very good.

"Costco has them," my wife interjected. She of no hot dog eating lips will ever tough mine credo.

Off to Costco where buffalo steaks were also on sale along with ground buffalo. The latter we passed on. But last night, I cooked a buff steak and dog for me and a cow steak and brat for her. We saved the dog and brat for today's lunch.

Outstanding. I'm sold after one meal on the Red. In fact, I question if it's called The Red because of infra-red or red meat. And the Costco package advertised it as "the original red meat".

No, it's not racist as in Redman's meat. Being at least a little Indian or Native American myself, I wouldn't stand for it. Even though in the middle of the night, for some reason I raised up in bed and gave out a war whoop.

CHOCOLATE NOT THE CAUSE

Bill(y) Steffy was quite a guy. He wore his pants higher than anyone I have ever see. Ed Grimley high. For those of you who don't remember the SNL character, well his pants went almost to his armpits. Same with Bill.

What I need is a Bill or Ed line of blue jeans. I've whined before about how blue jeans don't fit my old man body now. Primarily because they hang too low below my navel. To start with. I hate that style.

Add my mid-section girth to it and down they slide. I'm constantly pulling them up, no matter how tight I pull my belt. It's seen more far distant holes than ever recently, yet I don't have to unzip to take them off. I just slide them off. If I'm carrying something that requires two hands, I have to watch out or there will be southern exposure.

Even Grace Park, the svelte actress in Hawaii Five-O, doesn't look good in that style. In fact in this day and age, there aren't too many styles I approve of, but the low rider jeans and even dress pants are the worst. Remember bell bottoms and platform shoes? That style stunk as well, and it all started with hip huggers as they were called back then.

Until I shift some of my belly to my hips, I think I'd almost prefer the Bill or Ed style. Almost.

WHAT A GOOD BOY AM I

I just accompanied my wife flower shopping. It's that time of year when frost has taken some of our flowers and it's time to re-load. My input is sometimes taken into consideration and other times rejected because well, I don't know much about flora and fauna, though no fauna were purchased today.

Of course, while pushing the oversized cart, thoughts of a different nature crossed my mind. Such as, are there any masculine named flowers? I mean no man wants to be called a pansy. And why is a pansy more feminine that myrtle. It sounds just as effective. You know, "C'mon. Don't be a myrtle."

Now a Venus flytrap might just be the mano of all flowers. I mean, it eats protein. It looks tough. But I'm hard pressed to think of another masculine X chromosome flower. Saying a dandelion is masculine ignores the prefix. There is simply no lion who would want to called dandy. Even herbs aren't pronounced herbs with an H.

The lilies, the hydrangea, the poesys, the black eyed Susans. See what I mean. But I endured. I looked at geraniums, columbines, as well as some succulents, some ferns--I mean the men don't have a chance. Irises, the list goes on and on.

We came home with some miniature petunias. There you have it: not even a full blown petunia. It still sounds effeminate.

We're not finished either. Two pots with irrigation drip lines are currently spewing their moisture to soil-filled pots. I survived one trip, but when comes such another? Soon. Very soon.

REMEMBER THE PLAN AHEAD POSTER

with the D located on the second line because of no room? Well, for the most part, that is I.

I'm the antithesis of a former colleague who lived in Grand Tower, IL, and planted bamboo in hopes of attracting a panda or two. I don't guess he really thought it would work, but it made for a funny story.

But I'm in need of humor today. I'm home with a broken door on my refrigerator waiting for a guy to pick up a gas grill I'm giving away. I'm not on the golf course. There's one little white cloud in the sky. I have a Malibu light that's burned out and I have the replacement but I can't figure out how to take out the old burned out light on a swivel.

Plus one neighbor across the street is getting a new roof, just like neighbors to the east and west. All at the same time. One of my next door neighbors has some company called Eco-Blasting removing the stupid paint he put on his stupid driveway. Why is it stupid? Paint on driveways in Arizona doesn't last.

Why does this bother me? The noise! The cacophony of pounding coupled with a constant loud buzz is dishumoring me.

I have a cactus garden, but it doesn't bring in road runners. Too bad. At least they're quiet for the most part.

THE ACADUMMY AWARDS ONE WEEK AFTER

Not that I would call Jamie Foxx a dummy. In fact, I like him. He's made me laugh when I've seen his movies. But there aren't many anymore who do.

True Grit, I thought was a lock, but an English movie took best pic. I could care less or I couldn't care less. I think I prefer I couldn't care less, because if one could care less then, well he might care just a little. If he couldn't care less, that's it: he doesn't care in the least, and that's me. What I mean is, I liked The King's Speech a lot. Firth definitely was great, but I don't care who gets the hardware. So often it's too political, but what isn't anymore?

I was certain Natalie Portman (see I know some actresses, who for some reason like to be called actors, too, nowdays {or is it nowadays} ) would win the female Oscar for best actress/ actor/performer. But as cosmo as I am, I couldn't make myself see a movie about the ballet. So rather than take the word of those who vote from the acadummy, I'll just chalk it up to another sowhatwhocares.

Best song? Well, it's been awhile since I remember a best song, so I'll pass on that one. Along with all the other categories except for best foreign film animation. That one always kept me on the edge and I've bitten off more than one fingernail in anticipation. Yeah, right.

The host/hostess were terrible from what I heard. The best supporting female, whose name could be reversed and she would be as recognizable to me, showed herself to be short on manners and vocabulary. What's new? Even my bud Steven Tyler has trouble that way. I guess after years of profanity it must be hard to quit even though cameras are in their faces. That was said with my bleep tongue in cheek. And I didn't see The Fighter, but I have a hard time thinking she out-acted Maddie in Grit.

Maybe next year, I' ll watch. If someone chains me to my chair.