True Grits and Other Stray Business

Grits—I don’t understand the point/their reason for existence as a menu item. They taste like sand and not a soft, smooth kind of granular substance either. They’re more like the harsh rocky stuff I found on pebbly, pre-21st century makeover Revere, Beach here in Massachusetts.

Grits are more grainy and rough than the sand found on Race Point in Provincetown. Grits have a much closer resemblance to pumice. You remember pumice, right? It’s a type of volcanic rock that forms when lava (or is that magma?) suddenly cools during an eruption. It’s porous, light and, ground down, used for buffing rough, dead skin cells off your feet. Yum, sounds tasty amiright?

That’s totally not my idea of a great welcome-to-the-day meal no matter how much cheese, butter, salt, and pepper you put on it.

What brings this up? //shrugs//
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I had to go in to see the periodontist yesterday. Not a planned visit; instead, I’d had a bit of a scare. Ya see, it was a hard mouth weekend. Five days post double extraction and I was still in pain. Not cool. Not cool at all. Jen had called the office and spoke with the on-call dentist who recommended I take Tylenol and ibuprofen, alternately, once every three hours.

Yes, worked a total treat BUT Monday morning I woke with a mouth full of blood clots. EWWWWWWWWW! Yes, this freaked me out. As it turns out I should NOT have been taking ibuprofen at all—that’s what caused the clots. That’s a shame as ibuprofen, much more than the Tylenol was killing my pain. Bummer.

The good news—despite how I’m feeling, my healing is progressing. Also, no horror show mouth action this morning.

I REALLY think I should get a total pass from oral health care issues. Fer fuck's sake, isn’t Nf2 enough?! (yes, yes it truly is)
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Anyone else remember Goody Snap-Tight Kiddie Barrettes? I wore these back in college (the latter part of the *ahem* ‘70s) and throughout the ‘80s. Somehow, during my myriad moves, I either lost ‘em all or they broke apart. I’ve never found better, more effective barrettes for holding my baby-fine hair.

I tried to find them online and, guess what! They’re no longer manufactured AND they’re considered “vintage.” (I'm so old now, my barrettes are vintage—insert eye roll here) Joy. There was one seller (for one partial set of 5 pairs) on Etsy but it was already sold. There’s another vendor on eBay but they want 100 smackers for 15 mismatched sets. They want a C-note and these aren’t even the good clips. Those would, of course, be the guitar playing cat, the poodle, a bonnet wearing duck, lovebirds, the running bunny and a teddy bear. Jesus, they want a C-note for horrifically dull, mismatched plastic baby hair clips? NO thanks.

What’s this mean? I have to get my hair cut today. It’s falling in my eyes and I HATE this!
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Speaking of plastic (or not so much), when you say “everything went tits up” you must be referring only to the silicone enhanced or smaller varieties of buoyancy aids. If yours are large and organic, like mine, they don’t go up so much as sideways or southerly in direction or both.

On the whole, regarding shit going all cattywampus, I prefer the phrase damp squib (a wet bomb) or the word banjaxed (broken or ruined).

The party was flaming but then Dick showed up, acting like a banjaxed toy and the night became a damp squib.