Gummy nausea
The small Puffin had the momentous event today of losing his first tooth. He’s an extremely mature Puffin not to have lost a tooth ’til now, as most small Puffins his age have long had the smile like they could give but a mere gummy nip to an average apple.
Due to this delay have been able to avert dealing with the major nausea that overcomes me at the sight of a tooth being wiggled. Akin to the Sealink Ferry in high storms. To think I once considered a career as an autopsy attendant should give an accurate indication of how well we know our capabilities. That a wiggle should be so discomforting is perhaps sweetly ironic or perhaps explained by having had both my jaws broken in my twenties and four operations on the pesky crunchers.
The actual event happened only because he yanked it out of his mouth, while reading Pippi Longstocking. I suggested he yank it because the room was spinning everytime I saw it protrude from his lower jaw by the poke of his tongue. When he shrieked it’s out, it’s out. I shrieked oh Jesus I am going to get sick. Then got practical and declared open your mouth. Saw blood and shrieked Good Jesus it’s bleeding, they’re not supposed to bleed, in 1975 teeth didn’t bleed, something has gone wrong, you shouldn’t have yanked it. Had post-operative moment of inspiration. Cotton wool wadges. We don’t have any. Stuff mouth with flannel. All the time Puffin calmly declaring it’s fine offering scientific comparision to 47 other Puffins, who have lost teeth in his classroom company.
Now I am going to have to google number of teeth in mouth to figure out how many more times this must be endured. I tried to suggest to Puffin that hopefully only front sets of teeth fall out, since I never recall the big square fellas exiting my mouth, maybe that’s why I had several pulled as an adult. Puffin insists nonsense they’re all coming out.
He’s also determined tooth fairy won’t get her mitts on it. Firstly dissing it as improbable before suggesting I lock it someplace safe.
I recall being quite stoic when he had heart surgery as a young baby or perhaps because of heart surgery I am no longer stoic. Just like because of jaw surgery cannot tolerate sight of wiggly tooth. Still adequate distraction from the 100kph wind storm outside the window. I feel like we are auditioning for Global Warming on this coast for last 2 months and we keep getting a recall.
Car Boom Puts Europe on Road to a Smoggy Future
Article from yesterday’s New York Times, well worth a read for a gander at the picture of the Danish bicycle. Quelle fine contraption. I wonder whether the annual rainfall encourages the Danish….
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/07/world/europe/07cars.html
DUBLIN — Rebecca and Emmet O’Connell swear that they are not car people and that they worry about global warming. Indeed, they looked miserable one recent evening as they drove home to suburban Lucan from central Dublin, a crawling 8.5-mile journey that took an hour.
Take it to the bridge: here’s a link to that fine contraption for porting your young ones: http://www.christiania.org/bikesframe.html
Slán Magnus
The black chair, the narrow light, the arms on chair, closeup on the face. I can’t be the only one whose heart raced worrying some individual in the leather chair wouldn’t remember some tiny detail from some literary tome or the name of an obscure river in Panama? Bless, bless (sp?) as they say in his Native Icelandic.
http://media.guardian.co.uk/site/story/0,,1985125,00.html
Magnus Magnusson, best known for his 25-year reign as Mastermind’s formidable and cerebral inquisitor, has died, aged 77.
The TV presenter, journalist, historian and author will be remembered for his catchphrase – “I’ve started, so I’ll finish” – heard often during his interrogation of subjects in the black leather chair.
Magnusson hosted Mastermind on the BBC from 1972 until 1997, making him synonymous with a quiz show that gained mass appeal and up to 22 million viewers, and paved the way for today’s more aggressive formats.
Mr Blair’s working memory problem
A spokeswoman said Mr Blair will make his views clear this week – and he’s expected to say the way in which Saddam was executed was “completely wrong – but it shouldn’t lead us to forget the crimes Saddam committed”
http://www.channel4.com/news/special-reports/special-reports-storypage.jsp?id=4295
The man was hanged on Dec. 30th. Today it’s Jan 7th and it appears Mr Blair is still mulling over whether or not the circumstances of his execution were acceptable.
It seems likely Mr Blair has confirmed to the public a working memory problem to accompany his numerous other challenges chiefly with bending the facts to suit a situation and questionable music tastes.
How not to write a novel
Spend seven years continuously generating material until it fills up in four large boxes and you cannot find any part of it in a hurry, so inevitably you begin to write that part again. On reflection you see you’ve written three different novels, none of which have an ending. Like constantly knitting the arms of a jumper, without noticing there’s no back nor front to it.
Alice Flaherty has written an interesting book on a neurologist’s perspective on the creative brain, the urge to write and writers block. Usually I would avoid reading books about writing and just stick to writing and or rereading the classics, but was attracted by the brain ingredients in it. Then upon reading it discovered this notion of hypergraphia. She’ll hopefully write a follow-up which explains how the hypergraphic writer fathoms editing without marrying an editor, which given some of the contents of the current publishing catalogues would hardly set the pulse a-racing.
I’ve noticed it’s popular to remark on the writing process in newspaper articles. Writers often are asked about it. Curious then that no one suggests how not to do it. This would likely be far more use. Also, people are largely interested in the writing process once it’s over, which is a terrible pity. It would be more interesting to read an interview with some harried writer half way through, rather than when they are chipper and have forgotten the misery.
Early on New Year’s day I expressed the sentiment to a charming person beside me at a party, who was ruminating on Chick Lit, that it would be a more noble gesture for certain writers (this extends far beyond just the realm of chick lit) to actually read good books, rather than consider writing books at all. I was promptly told to get off my literary high horse.
Giddy up.
Subconsciously, I may already have heeded my own advice.
Mighty leap
For those on the European end of things who may have missed this tale about Wesley Autrey leaping down onto the New York subway tracks to aide a man having a seizure. Myself and the small puffin were sincerely impressed with this tale, also with his children standing on the platform watching.