Dental Root Caused Analysis

I had a routine dental appointment this morning, just the semi-annual cleaning that was scheduled six months ago.  I swear that once something like that goes on your calendar it attracts other events.  The catalytic effect today attracted a staff meeting that I had to reschedule and two hearings with union officials that I had to rush back for.  It all made for an eventful high speed ride to the dentist’s office.  The whole time I was slightly altering the accepted speed limits I was asking myself why I was hurrying to such an unpleasant event.  Every other time I’ve gone to this dentist I end up waiting for at least 15 to 20 minutes, so today of course, I walk in three minutes late and have to face the castigating stare of the receptionist who informs me they have been waiting for me.  I “bite off” several rejoinders, remembering these people will shortly have me at their mercy.  (Editorial note:  the people in my dentist’s office are some of the nicest people in the world – I am expressing some artistic license).  I mention to the dental hygienist that I have been feeling some discomfort in one of my molars.  Several x-rays later, the hygienist tells me it looks great with no problems she can detect.  The dentist walks in, demonstrating why she gets the big bucks, and says probably the last thing you want to hear at that point, “I’ve got some bad news.”  I’m sure she’s not talking about the color of the examination room, which involves a truly unfortunate choice in colors.  I momentarily think about asking the hygienist to argue for my side but decide that is not a likely source of support.  Besides, the dentist has played this perfectly, she waited until I was lying in the chair with my feet elevated and head lowered for the hygienist to do her excavations.  She stands right above my head so I have to converse with her while looking up from a position with the top of my head in the vicinity of her upper thighs.  Not the strongest position to argue any point.  The dentist explains that I have a fairly serious infection inside my tooth that will require either an extraction or a root canal procedure.  She assures me this is very serious and should be taken care of within the next week.  She insists I am in more pain than I am admitting to and puts me on antibiotics and gives me a prescription for vicodin if the pain gets too bad (jeez – is it starting to hurt now?).  After consulting with the hygienist (I like her opinions better) I opt for the root canal which will happen on Friday, luckily the same day as the office Christmas party!  I have to admit that from the moment she told me about this I was calculating how to get this behind me before Christmas time because I did not want it impacting on my ability to enjoy the holiday (i.e. drink beer).  I think it is overwhelming evidence of how much I enjoy Christmas in that I briefly considered extraction versus root canal because that would reach terminus more quickly.   I would be more than willing to sacrifice some ivory for the sake of yuletide bliss.  At any rate, I hope you’re having a better day than I did.   

Quality of Friendship

This past weekend my wife and I headed up to New Hampshire to visit my home town.  My wife got to pursue her passion – shopping while I indulged in one of my favorite activities – drinking beer with a good friend.  I have very few friends that I consider “close”.  I have a great many people I consider friends but again, very few that I would classify as close friends.  In my military career, friends would come and go with the regularity of my change of duty station which forced me (and my family) to constantly meet and acquire new friends as we moved around the world.  One of the things I loved about the military was the camaraderie – the bond between soldiers that really goes beyond friendship.  When you train to fight and possibly die with the guy sitting next to you – bonds are formed.  These bonds are however by the very nature of the profession that creates them, short lived and constantly formed and re-formed.  I have hundreds of “friends” from my military career but only two or three that I stay in touch with and that contact is sporadic – nature of the beast – we have all moved on and are dealing with civilian life.  I think that is why I value the friendship of those “close” friends – all of whom date back to my life prior to the military.  I think as you go through life you end up getting defined by what you do for a living.  Having friends that knew you before all the trappings of life get hung on you is important.  I can just sit down with these close friends and pick up a conversation as though we saw each other every day despite the vagaries of life and physical distance that makes that impossible.  One of the great joys in my life is to spend an afternoon with this close friend, drinking beer in a hometown (that I love) bar.  I enjoy bantering with him about life in general, why tight pants work on some waitresses but not others, and other such lofty, cerebral discussions.  He’s even one of the two or three people that read this blog, so thanks for being such a great friend and for telling me when my verbal filter starts to fail (usually the 5 or 6 beer point).  The overweight waitresses in tight pants do not realize the debt they owe you.

Elm City Brewery, Keene, NH - Great Place to Spend an Afternoon Avoiding Shopping

Some Perspective Please

I know I’ve ranted about the state of the news industry before but I was again appalled today, this time by the local media.  We had a terrible tragedy yesterday here in Worcester where a brave fireman was killed going into a burning house to rescue a reportedly trapped resident.  When I woke up today the local newspaper did a great job of in depth reporting on the event.  They covered the actual fire, the code violations of the house involved, and even the problematic residents.  So I was actually angry when the lead stories on all the local broadcast media was about the Occupy Boston idiots losing a court battle.  I was actually mildly sympathetic when the Occupy movement first cranked up.  I understood their frustration with a financial system that had performed so poorly over the last few decades.  That sympathy eroded when the movement was hijacked by a fringe element of self entitled anarchists whose only platform seemed to be to tear down the system.  They didn’t want to pay their debts and wanted everything given to them because for no other reason than they wanted it.  American society was founded on and has thrived on a bedrock principle of the work ethic.  Work hard and with enough talent you can go far.  I know this dream is periodically battered by opportunists but historically we’ve always emerged.  I know it’s a flawed system but I’ve been all over the world and there is nothing even remotely better.  Europe is still afflicted with a class society that works but is a dead end for the aspirations of some of their most talented.  The Third World is still in the process of defining itself but most look to America, with all its flaws, as an example, not to tear down, but to emulate.  The news media let us down again today – those morons occupying Dewey Square were not worthy of mention in the same news as Firefighter Jon D. Davies.

Firefighter Jon D. Davies - R.I.P - Thank you for your Service

No No Gillette



Closest I'll Ever Get to Scoring Touchdown for the Patriots!

View from the Pat's Sideline

Visitor's Locker Room - Really Bare Bones

I’m just back from a two day business conference at Gillette Stadium, home of my favorite football team, the New England Patriots.  The conference was kind of boring but I did learn that the two currently most common, overused sayings in business are, “this is a game-changer” and “the elephant in the room”.   I did get a tour of the facility which was extremely cool.  They even let us into the visitor’s locker room which was very Spartan and according to the guide, purposely so.   All in all it was a great experience in this state of the art facility.  It did cause me to recall the last time I was actually in the stadium, and not fondly.  The Patriots are 18 and 1 over the last few years in home games played in December.  Guess which game I went to?  I arrived at my sister’s on Christmas leave from the military and my brother in law took both my son and I to the game.  It was ice cold out but we were both excited about seeing the Patriots, still basking in the glow of their first Super Bowl championship.  We took the train from Providence, RI because driving into and out of this stadium on game day is not for the faint of heart.  The train ride up was enjoyable and involved more than a couple adult beverages.  Our seats were in what is politely called, the nose bleed section, but we still had a great view of the game and were tremendously excited.  Then the game started, then stopped, started, then stopped, etc, etc.  Since this was an ESPN night game there were a lot of commercials and I learned this meant the referees stopped the game in its tracks so these commercials could air.  My brother in law pointed out a guy standing on the sidelines wearing loud orange sleeves.  Whenever this guy crossed his arms the refs would stop the game and everybody stood around waiting.  Now it was in the low 20’s Fahrenheit and the wind was really kicking so we came to dread the crossing of the sleeves.  We sat with frozen feet on ice cold concrete surrounded by increasingly drunk Pat’s fans while the Pats played terribly, when allowed to play by Mr. Orange Sleeves.  All of this occurred after a nine hour drive with the family to New England from Virginia.  By the third quarter I was ready to assassinate the commercial summoner.  We left half way through the fourth quarter and made our way back to the train to warm up a little bit.  We were early enough to get great seats near the front and the bathrooms.  Then I went in to use the bathroom and discovered all the toilets were full, literally overflowing.  We hastily reseated ourselves elsewhere, imagining what that car was going to be like when the train started moving, while I made for the nearest woodline to take care of business.  Talking about this with my brother in law, a sports guru, he smiled at my frustration and said the NFL game pace is totally at the mercy of television because of what they pay to broadcast the games.  These games are paced for the person watching the game at home, not for the fans in the stands, he said.  I swore to myself that I would never go to see a life NFL game again and I have been true to that pledge even with multiple offers of game tickets.  I really enjoy watching the games from home and I guess that is the way it is intended.  The trip to the stadium over the last couple of days was much more enjoyable because there wasn’t a game on.

View from the Conference Window

Weekend Getaway

The Hot Chocolate Place

We spent the weekend up visiting my son in Portsmouth, New Hampshire and had a simply fantastic time.  He lives in a small apartment just steps away from the quaint center of this old New England port which has transformed itself into a social destination for the seacoast region.  We were within walking distance of the center of town with its collection of bars, shops, and scenery.  Friday night we ate a dinner prepared by our son’s fabulous girlfriend who lives a couple of streets away in another very interesting apartment.  The dinner was great and the company even better.  We then took a cold walk to downtown where they had found a place with a live band playing Latin music.  My son knows how much his mother loves to dance and she was genuinely touched that he took note of this place and then planned for us to go there.  The dance floor was packed but my wife was undaunted and soon had us dancing in the aisles between tables.  She also went over and introduced herself to the band – got their card in case of future gigs with her group of Latino friends.  My wife is the most gregarious person I have ever known.  Saturday, unfortunately our son had to work early in the morning so we just hung out at his place.  I even got to work on a puzzle, something I loved doing as a kid but hadn’t done in decades.  It’s a little tougher now, especially since I didn’t have my reading glasses with me.  Our son returned in time to take us out for lunch and then, joined by his girlfriend, we took a long walk around the picturesque port and scored some well received hot chocolate in the middle of the town.  We took in the annual town Christmas parade, which was great Americana and it seemed like the whole town turned out to enjoy the season.  The parade even included a bagpipe band, need I say more!?  Our son took us out for dinner to a renovated old world type restaurant called The Library.  I loved the décor which was all carved mahogany from the turn of the century.  This place had hosted presidents as far back as George Washington and just had a great ambiance. I had the best steak I have had in years; go to this place if you're ever in Portsmouth.  We ended this great evening in a wine bar which also served beer, thankfully.  Several groups of my son’s and girlfriend’s friends stopped by to join us. I really enjoyed talking with these young people and I was impressed by their maturity and common sense.  There was one who didn’t impress me, but he’s studying to be a lawyer, so it’s almost expected.  Good times thanks to the efforts and thought of my son and his girlfriend.  My wife and I were touched that they would devote so much time and effort to make us feel so special.  Yesterday Buddy returned home and promptly resumed his role in terrorizing the front yard squirrels.  One of those weekends you don’t want to end.

The Interior of the Library Restaurant - Right Where We were Sitting

I Miss My Dog

Buddy

We’re heading up to New Hampshire to spend the weekend with our son.  Unfortunately his apartment does not allow pets so we had to take Buddy down to Rhode Island last night to spend some time with my sister.  I had a business dinner last night so we didn’t even get on the road until well after eight.  I know I’ve written before about my love of dogs but it gets tougher every time I have to be away from him.  Interestingly last night it was obvious that my wife was having the same difficulty I was.  Since she retired she has come to appreciate what good company Buddy is around the house while I’m away at work.  He does this, as with most dogs, just by being there.  He was hurling himself at the door as we left and that felt almost like a betrayal on my part.  He loves being at my sister’s house where he is treated like royalty but we were leaving and he didn’t like that.  This morning as I went through my normal early morning routine there was a large part missing.  I didn’t have Buddy around to share my observations with or see him hurtling down the hill in his daily frantic, but always futile attack on the front yard squirrels when I went out to get the newspaper.  I miss him. 

Musical Eclecticism

Someday!!

I am very eclectic in my musical tastes, the rest of my family, especially my children, would label them as just plain weird.  This probably explains why whenever I am driving the car with my children they immediately seize control of the radio.   I was reminded early this morning when I got into the car to leave for work forgetting that I was playing the Bay City Rollers at maximum volume the night before when I drove back from the gym.  I’m sure my sleeping wife as well as the neighbors and any canine within a 1 mile radius appreciated the short excerpt of “Saturday Night” that came booming out.  It certainly ensured I was wide awake for the drive.  Anyways, I do have a very wide range of music types that I like, they are weird to a certain extent.  I know this because I can get very few people to listen to all of it with me without groaning.  The single most divisive type is bagpipe music …I … just….love…bagpipe music.  It really speaks to me on a certain level.  It even led me to claim I was Scottish when I was young, despite genealogical evidence to the contrary.  Eventually we did establish that I had about a quarter’s worth of Scottish blood, but it must be pretty dominant because bagpipe music just does it for me.  One of the most memorable nights in my life was in the 1980s in an Irish bar in Alexandria, Virginia with my sister and brother in law when a bagpipe band came in and played a couple of numbers, playing right next to where I was sitting.  I can remember my sister looking over and just knowing how happy I was at that moment.  One of my lifelong goals has been to go to a British military tattoo where I could hear a full band of bagpipers but I have never been able to convince anyone to go with me.  I think the next opportunity that comes up I’m just going to go by myself.  I also love hard rock, some country songs, oldies (50s and 60s), ballads, some folk music, salsa music (thanks to the wife for that), patriotic music, and in a huge surprise to any one that knows me, movie music.  About the only music I cannot stand is rap, which isn’t really music anyways.  I’ve often thought life would be much more interesting if we had a musical score to accompany every day life.  Music does inspire me; certain songs evoke memories, some with enough emotional power to bring tears to the eyes, such as the song I danced to with my daughter at her wedding.  I have used music throughout my life to psyche myself up – in college before water polo games I would play the theme from Jaws, in the military I would play the theme from Conan the Barbarian before big runs, and if you play a bagpipe rendition of Scotland the Brave I would be up for jus about anything.  I’ve accepted that my musical tastes are not even a minor tributary of the main stream, but I still love it, it’s more personal that way.  On my solitary drives I can still blast Springsteen followed by the Wake of the Edmund Fitzgerald and feel at peace.