Gas has hit an all-time high of $5 per gallon around here, so my trips in the Scout are generally limited to short errands around town. I wound up leaving it at home for my trip up to New York last weekend, partially because the forecast for both travel days called for rain, and partially because of gas prices. As it turned out, there was little rain both days, and the weather was cool and mostly sunny. But I got 33 MPG in my Honda, and I can’t beat that.
This weekend, I spent some quality time messing around in the garage, and some of that time was spent on Scout stuff.
The gas tank has been sitting for a month or so waiting for me to get around to putting the sending unit in place. I didn’t know how to get the unit screwed in place with the thick rubber washer they provided. There’s a locking ring that goes over the sender and under three flanges welded to the tank, and the washer is too thick to make it easy to install. What I finally did was get one of the wings on the washer under a flange, and then carefully get the other two started with a couple of screwdrivers and some luck. Then, with some gentle taps with a hammer to spin the washer, I got the whole thing mounted and working. I have to take it back off to test the whole unit (and troubleshoot the wiring issue) but at least now I know I can get it installed.
The next thing I fooled with was pulling the trim off of one of the Flintstone doors to see what it would look like on Peer Pressure. I’ve had the guts of the door open several times, so it took about five minutes to get into the door, and then it was a simple matter of pinching the clips to release the trim.
I have to say, it looks kind of cool but also like I’m dressing up a pig. I like how the trim breaks up the big slabby purple area, but if I was to put a full trim kit on, that would imply I like the purple color, which I really don’t, or that I intended it to be this color and have now given it my stamp of approval. In any case, I don’t have a full set of trim pieces for in front of the doors or around the rear wheels, so at this point it’s not even an issue. It’s interesting to think about, though.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
It occurs to me I’ve not mentioned how the deer skull turned out since I boiled it last month; it’s been mounted to the side of the garage since then. I think it came out pretty good! I didn’t use a ton of hydrogen peroxide to bleach it, but I like the way it came out, and for a grand total of maybe $10 it’s a nice piece to decorate the yard.
I’ve had Invisalign in for a couple of days now, and I guess I’m getting more used to them. As much as I can get used to having plastic sofa covers on my teeth all day, every day. Overnights are the easiest, because by now my palate has gotten used to the position the trays have pushed it into. I’m supposed to change them every week, so the first day of the change is going to be a total drag.
It’s shifted a lot of my daily habits, which is for the better, I think. For example, I obviously have to take them out each time I want to eat something. Sounds easy, right? Well, because my teeth are aligned so poorly, it takes a bit of work to get the trays out—and it’s not very comfortable. I have to start with one side way in the back and work my way around. The plastic can hurt my gums if I do it wrong, and my whole jaw is sore to begin with, so chewing is a delicate matter. And because I’ve got all these nubs glued to my teeth, the inside of my mouth is tender from them rubbing so much.
I had to find a way to surreptitiously pull them out at a company meeting on Thursday before lunch, then quietly run to the bathroom to wash them out and pop them back in. The next step is to set up a tiny travel kit for them with a mini toothbrush and toothpaste that’ll fit in a pocket.
Invisalign would actually be a great way to aid a diet, because it makes grabbing a quick snack an investment of time and effort: take the trays out, wash them, gently chew something, brush teeth, brush trays, reinsert. Where I used to graze a lot during the afternoon now I’m strategically planning what to eat and when. It’s also good for brushing habits: if I’m brushing at least three times a day after each meal, I’m finally fulfilling the wishes of all of the dentists I’ve ever seen, 40 years too late.
Yeah, pretty much want to rip my own face off.
I have crooked teeth. They’ve been slightly crooked for years—I never received orthodontia as a kid, and my teeth were straight enough then to avoid picket fencing and headgear and palate keys and all the other hellish shit my sister had to endure. She got the business while I sat in the waiting room for hours reading Archie comics as they jabbed hot pokers at her face behind the partition. I’d say I won that particular battle. Mom says they couldn’t follow up on me because they had other bills to pay, and I don’t fault them. Thirty years later, insurance still barely covers any of this shit, and it’s expensive.
As I’ve gotten older my teeth have gotten more summer—summer here, summer there—to the point where my lower incisors are pointed backwards and overlapping each other, like a fence about to fall down. My molars have all turned inward, and my top incisors have slowly followed the lower ones in alignment. My whole palate has shrunk, actually. I’ve always been self-conscious about my teeth, but having a teenage daughter who needed braces put any notion of self-care on the back burner until those bills got paid. Finn’s still got the braces, but the monthly payments are behind us so I figured I’d finally step up and get my shit fixed.
I talked to her orthodontist about Invisalign and he set up an appointment to have my mouth scanned, after which he showed me terrifying 3D models of my face and assured me we could straighten things out. That was three weeks ago. Today I went in and they attached small plastic nubs to my teeth with some stinky glue, and then popped a pair of clear plastic trays over top of it all. I left with a box of thirty new trays and the maddening urge to peel at the plastic off with my tongue.
All afternoon I’ve been trying to stop myself from futzing with them, and I’m losing. I can feel the pull of the trays pretty much across my whole palate, but the strongest right now is my right upper canine area, which feels like someone’s pushing on my face from the outside. Taking them out to eat is worse—I can feel all the nubs sticking out on my teeth, like barnacles on a tramp steamer.
Yeah, I signed up (and paid for) something like seventy weeks of this shit. If I don’t tear the skin off my own face by the Fourth of July, it’ll be a miracle.
I’ve had this tune stuck in my head since I heard it last week:
I really dig the distance between the verse melody and the chorus melody; it’s a beautiful, unusual song. Soccer Mommy is one of a group of women artists I seem to be diving into further these days.
I’m a bit worn out but wanted to put a couple of pictures up from Pat & Mel’s wedding this weekend. It was excellent to see family and spend time with my Mom and sister and kick back for a couple of days.
It was wonderful to spend a beautiful evening at the farm catching up with everyone; Renie and I were among the last to leave, and we finished up the evening down at the Fargo for a nightcap with the diehards.