A Great Sunny Day To Re-Introduce Ones Self Back To The Home District; Tooth Has Stopped Throbbing For Now

Muffin in the shadows of the mighty Oaks.

A GREAT DAY OF RE-INTRODUCTION TO THE DISTRICT WE CALL HOME - YOU REALLY HAVE TO GET OUT AND SEE THIS PLACE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

I'M CHIPPER BECAUSE MY OLD CHOMPER HAS STOPPED THROBBING; AND I'VE GOT THE WATER MOVING OUT OF THE BIRCH HOLLOW INLAND LAKE

     Yesterday, I opened my blog, with what turned out to be a closing statement! I've done it before when something happens late in the writing day, that seems for one reason or another, worth mentioning to you fine folks. Most of them have to do with some folly I have participated in, or misadventure, that makes my life seem crazier than yours. If you feel better about the course of your day, by reading about the foibles of mine, then something good has actually come from the experience, other than my cussing which may reduce blood pressure temporarily. So I opened with what would be my final words of the day, in a small notation, reporting for anyone interested (because we all get sick from time to time), that I had just been afforded an emergency dentist's appointment, because I was a little bit worried, about the holiday weekend, and having this angry tooth, continue to beat me up from the inside out, which had started earlier in the week as a minor tremor. It had happened before, with this particular tooth, but within a few hours, it would normalize, and I'd think, well, I'm in the clear for awhile longer. I have never liked going to the dentist, and I consider myself part of the majority on this one. I also really dislike pain, and this unfortunately has usually been the reason for making a trip to the office, and then doing the conservation work second; the proverbial case, of reclamation, closing the door "once the horse is long gone from the barn," I guess you might say. Once I went for medical attention, and the dentist asked me where the tooth was that was giving me trouble. When I pointed at it with my finger, stuck awkwardly in my cheek, he said, with some trace chagrin, in his voice, "But there isn't anything there but an outline of where a tooth used to be!" "Well, as they say doc, 'That's all there is! It has left my service in portions over the past year." I got used to dentists looking at me as if I was from another planet.
     I was able to get in to see the dentist just after four o'clock on Thursday afternoon, at about the peak of discomfort; you know, the throbbing of the little devil chipping inside with a pick axe. I tried a few different over-the-counter products, but nothing mitigated this little fellow from crushing the nerves in my affected tooth. It only took a few moments, an x-ray, and a close- up look inside my mouth, for the dentist to discover two important realities of the subject molar. First, as it was a stand-alone tooth, after an earlier extraction, it was, by appearance and position, giving-up being part of my dental future. It was actually surrendering gradually, by tipping over toward the front of my mouth, as if begging forgiveness, while silently confessing, "but enough is enough." The dentist noted that it was actually clinging there by a thread of tissue, and could fall out on its own. Poor little fellow. I didn't know it felt this way about me, and what I jam into my mouth every day. I gave up booze a long time ago, so it can't be the result of wild lifestyle. I like peppermints, so I suppose, I haven't always been thoughtful about crunching down on candy pieces when I'm writing blogs. The last few hard candies obviously put it in a tilt like the dentist witnessed with a little mirror and spot of light cast into what some call, Currie's big mouth.
     The second observation made by the dentist, was that an infection had set in, and would have to be dealt with before the tooth could be extracted. There was one occasion, many years ago, with another dentist, that an abscess had not been detected before the tooth was pulled, and I honestly thought I was crossing-over, I was so sick. Our family doctor had to make a house call because I couldn't get off the couch. It should have been treated with medication first. So I have no problem waiting for a bit, before my tooth becomes history, in order to quell the infection. The throbbing has stopped now, after preliminary treatment, which has allowed me to have a rather nice day-off. I have had lots of toothaches in the past, but this was the senior pain in the mouth over a lifetime thus far. All I could hear, as an echo of the past, while I sat in the waiting room, was my mother's constant warnings throughout my childhood. "Teddy Currie, if you keep eating those blackballs (licorice tasting, hard candies), all your teeth are going to fall out before you are twenty." I'm fifty-nine, and I can still hear her nattering as clear as if she was sitting beside me, embarrassing me in the waiting room. I wondered if anyone else sitting there, yesterday, was spiritually messaged the warnings, that may have been coming from the great beyond, as my mother Merle passed earlier in this new century. What kid hasn't heard that warning, about either pellet guns putting eyes out, or cent candy ruining your oral health? It was kind of a standard on allowance day in our apartment. I listened, but I didn't learn. I once went to see the dentist who was happy to report to my mother, that the candy industry was going to be buying him a new cottage.     "Teddy has 12 caviies, Mrs. Currie," the dentist said, and without delay, my mother started hitting me with my baseball cap, she had snatched with a hand-full of hair, from my pointed little head, while I concentrated on the other kid beside me, who had already been yelled at a few moments earlier by his displeased parental authority. I think Merle may have even kicked me in the arse, once we got into the parking lot. You see, a kid on a budget, could buy twenty blackballs for a dime, and for a buck, we had to have two bags to carry the loot. They were cheap candy that we liked for all occasions of loitering, but they played hell on our teeth; because we could resist crunching them. Then there was the toffee that claimed our fillings.
     I did wake up early this morning with the tell tale throb of the little devil inside my tooth, but a couple of extra strength aspirins put him back to bed for a tad. I laid there for about twenty minutes after, waiting for the pain reliever to kick in, or else I was going to stick my head in the shower for an hour. I was thinking back to the time, shortly after Suzanne and I got married, when my mates, Dave Bird, Ross Traviss, and Ken Silcox conned me into pre-winter camping in Algonquin Park. One of the usual foursome had begged-out, likely because his wife demanded thusly, but I was just glad to join-up as I loved any excuse to jump into a canoe, and head out onto a sparkling lake, especially in Algonquin. We no sooner got out onto the water, that November afternoon, than I found out why I shouldn't have been talking while paddling. I had a tooth that was giving me some discomfort, but once the cold air hit my open mouth, gosh, I thought my jaw was going to explode before we hit the first portage. I had enough aspirins with me to stave off the most intense of the pain, but it was booze straight-up that got me through that weekend with a smile; once the hangover ceased of course.
     Well, that was then, and seeing as I no longer saddle up to any bottle, of which I used to be intimate, I let the drugs calm the pain instead; and although there have been a few minor flare-ups today, nothing like yesterday's horror. At one point I looked at a pair of Andrew's pinchers, he used to repair guitars, and it crossed my mind, that it would take about a minute to yank the sucker free of my jaw. Then I made the appointment to see a real dentist, and boy oh boy, thank God madness hadn't taken control, because the infection would have been sent loose to wage havoc on my old self. Now I've got to look forward to the day, later this month, when the chomper I've grown up with, leaves me forever. It did the job for all those breakfasts, lunches, suppers, deserts and late night snacks for long and long without complaint. I'm a hard guy to live with, as Suzanne tells me almost daily, so I can't really blame my back tooth for opting out of the rest of the journey into adventure.
     Suzanne and I took one of our Muskoka auto-trips again today, and it was gorgeous out there with the full sunshine beating down on what are still snow-laden pastures, woodlands and shadowed hollows on the Muskoka Beach Road, connecting Bracebridge, and Gravenhurst, skirting the shore of Lake Muskoka. We had our lunch looking out over Bracebridge Bay, and the town falls, where I used to spend a lot of time as a kid, fishing off the concrete wharf to the east of the Power House. Muffin the dog, has a real thing for pizza and a good view, so it was an Italian lunch for three. It was great to see so many folks out for walks around the park, and to take photographs of the basin and falls before the spring run-off hits later this month. The water level has been dropped at least a couple of feet if not more, in preparation. Work on the old Motor Park docking is underway, exposing a lot of earth shoreline, so I hope the river level doesn't rise too much this month, that it causes serious erosion. The melt has gone pretty well this spring so far, with cold nights stopping-up the daily run-off from becoming a serious problem. We resumed our auto tour, and enjoyed travels around both towns before we came back home to Birch Hollow, where I had some pressing water-related issues myself. Thanks to the snow dumped on one of our outdoor temporary sheds, from sources unknown but suspected, the supports gave way about a month ago, and it caved into the centre. We couldn't get access to either end, without moving mountains of snow first, and we just decided, life being as short as it is, to reduce the weight as much as humanly possible, and wait until the snow was gone. The problem, more so, was that the canopy has acted as a bladder, and after the recent rain, the volume of water was more like a significant pond, weighing many hundreds of pounds. This afternoon, in the beautiful sun, I spent two hours hauling water by stick and pail, out of the hollow of the canopy. I've got to go back to it later this evening, just in case there is any rain coming our way. I've still got about a week to go before we can actually get inside the storage unit, to see if we can reinforce the bent beams with a central post. Then there's the inland lake on the sidewalk, where the snow coming off the storage sheds dammed-up the usual safe drainage. If I don't clear it out a couple of times each day, it will seep into my workshop at the end of the house. I love home ownership. I'm just not very good at it! Good times.
     We took a day off from antiques, which doesn't happen very often. Well, I shouldn't say this, because we did list some items on ebay this morning, and Suzanne has some work to do this evening, posting on her "Currie's Antiques" facebook page. We just didn't do any antique shopping. It's Easter. Time to reflect and enjoy the emerging spring. Posted with tonight's blog, is a picture of Muffin in the forest above The Bog. We were out for a walk, and I was in need of a nice photograph to illustrate my assessment, the spring is here to stay. See you all again soon.