September 2008

Back From the War with Loot
Some of you are well aware of my love hate relationship with dentists. As in, I love to hate them because I have been terrified of them since childhood. Having uncaring, rough military dentists will do that to a girl. I've had braces, head gear, teeth yanked out and a lot of large hands shoved into my small mouth. Very little of it done with any sort of bedside manner other than "Lay back and open wide."

So, two weeks ago, when the pain in my jaw started, I ignored it. I slept on it funny. You know, nothing permanent. Two weeks later, my jaw still hurts. Every time I yawn, I have shooting pains. My lower jaw aches. I'm popping ibuprofen like candy. I admit, reluctantly, there is something wrong with me. I willingly agree to go to the dentist when yawning causes pain all way to my ear and my ear ball.

Being a wuss and having a husband willing to coddle me (the first time), I went to the dentist today. The office is owned by, run by and staffed by women. All women, all the time. I've never had a female dentist before today. You can tell the office is decorated by a woman with a strong sense of taste - lots of burgundy and grays and blacks. Very nice. Not girly. Strong enough for men to not be uncomfortable there.

Jeff introduces me and leaves. They are all nice and somewhat amused that the gothic horror writer is terrified of dentists until I mention "military dentists" as part of my background and then they all get the same "Oh... now we understand" look.

I was there for 2.5 hours. I had an exam, fitting for a night guard and a light cleaning. They determine my jaw pain is from unconsciously grinding my teeth at night. They asked me if I'd been under stress lately. I laughed and simply said "Yes." So, now, a night guard three nights a week.

But wait, there's more.

Since it's been about 4 years since the last dentist, I have 2 small cavities to deal with and some "deep" cleaning to do because, you know, things aren't the best in my mouth. THEN, after that, they want to yank out the last of the military metal filled fillings (I thought those bastards were already all gone) and give me new high-tech ones.

It was at this point that the dentist, after looking at me and all that had been done asked, "Is there any way I can convince you to consider braces for your overbite?"

It took all my willpower not to run screaming from that chair with visions of metal bands, wire and head gear tearing off after me. I managed, "Not any time soon." Thankfully, she accepted that. And maybe it was the look of horror on my face, too.

Then, once again, I was thankful for Microsoft insurance. All this planned out work to be done by the end of the year, is thousands of dollars worth and Jeff and I will pay about 10% of it. Pretty nice deal.

By the time I was done, I felt like I had been to the war. However, when I left, they gave me a huge gift package of stuff. It included:

Abney Park LIVE!
After something like thirteen months, I got to see Abney Park live again. Like the first time I met them (and every time I have see them live), I was one of their volunteer lasses at the merchandise booth. This time around, I was not alone. Dawn, the other lass, and I manned the table all night. Also, this time around, my husband Jeff was there to provide lots of things: security, alcohol, light, fanning and anything else we needed. It was awesome. We had our own unofficial minion.

I was dressed up the neo-Victorian stuff I favor and added a chain belt with seven brass Victorian skeleton keys. It looked pretty cool. Plus, as the airship Claviger (IE: Mistress of Keys), I gave each band member a brass Victorian skeleton key. As usual, all of the band members were very approachable and happy to talk. Even Finn and Daniel, whom I met for the first time last night.

The music. Oh, yes, the music. Abney Park is one of my favorite bands for a reason. They put on a kick-ass show. They played music from all over their repertoire – Creep to Airship Pirates to The Wrong Side to Downtrodden and everything in-between. They sound great live. Even when they "mess up." Robert, for some reason, feels the need to point out that they messed up when they did. Just to prove they are live. Their 'mess ups' are hardly noticeable. I spent the whole night dancing in the back of the room behind the booth. I got the bright idea to hold up the CD that the current song being played was on. We got some extra sales because of that.

The fashion. I swear, Abney Park has the best looking fans around. I have never seen so many goggles, flight helmets, top hats and corsets looking so good on so many people all at the same time. It was Steampunk and beauty everywhere you looked. I even got handed a pair of pretty sweet homemade goggles just cause. I had such a fabulous night!

Now, because I am old and creaky, I was sore and tired after the show when I got home. So, I was moving slowly. Thus, it was my husband who stumbled over the corpse in the kitchen. My top hat. My beloved Art of Adornment top hat was somehow in the kitchen from the top of my dresser, where I left it after deciding to opt for my mini-hat and veil. Jeff called me, "Uh, your hat is here in the kitchen." With a sinking heart, I went to look.

The carnage. My God, the carnage. The splatter of shredded black feathers was everywhere. I don't think there was a single stair that was not covered in pieces of black feathers. The top hat itself is still in good shape but there are no more feathers on it – at all. Instead, the feathers are like a trail of blood leading back to the crime scene, where a bunch more of my stuff from the top of my dress lay on the floor.

My top hat is still wearable. Which is why two naughty kittens are still alive and the trail of black feathers all over the house has been left. The damage has been done. Might as well leave the feathers around for them to play with. Besides, in a way, the carnage of black feathers all up and down the stairs is just too funny not to leave for a bit.