Having completed my first week of work should qualify me as bilingual. After working for a week as a dental assistant, I am convinced that dentists speak a whole other language. And now I speak it too. I can tell you what a perio chart is, the different surfaces of the teeth (lingual, facial, buccal, occlusal, mesial, and distal), where the midline is (and what it is), what calculus means (and I'm not talking about the math subject), what a cord packer is for, and even what Doctor Atkinson wants me to hand him when he rapidly pinches his fingers together (though it doesn't always mean the same thing, and so sometimes I get confused, but understandably so).
Now let's back up for a minute. I am the daughter of a nurse in the pediatric ICU. Blood makes me squeamish, and everything else makes me cringe, tense up, want to puke, or empathetically hurt. So, understandably, I was just a little bit nervous about working in a dental office. But amazingly, the procedures are so interesting that sometimes I forget all about that salty red saliva. I like to call it Red Saliva because it sounds so much better than Blood, don't you think?
After a week of on the job training, I've helped with crowns, root canals, fillings, extractions, and more.
Root canals and implants I can handle. Crowns and fillings - no problem. Extractions: I think it's short for Exit This Attraction, because that's pretty much what I want to do when that tooth is coming out. Seriously, it is nasty. And it's not just the blood, it's the noise as it rips out - that ripping, girgly, crunchy sound much like that which a live fish makes when you hit it with a bat (and thanks to my brothers who love to fish, yes, I know what that sounds like).
Along with learning the language of dentistry, I, in a way have added some of my own unique vocabulary to the mix. I was talking to one of the hygienists, Mary, about nicknames and told her that when a friend of mine and I were in middle school we had the brilliant of idea of assigning objects or animals to all our teachers, that way we could talk about them in a discrete manner. We never said anything bad about them; it was really just for the fun of it. Mary, of course wanted to know what I would name the people working in the office. After some thought, I named them as follows: guardrail, capri salad, magic eight ball, and Remy (the adorable little blue rat from Ratatouille).
What do guardrails, capri salads, magic eight balls, and Remy all have in common? They are all my wonderfully kind coworkers and friends, whom I feel incredibly blessed to know and work with.
Candidly,
Cookie
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Why Sometimes the Fish Don't Bite, Even When They're Starving
Today at church, no one asked me how college was, or anything about it for that matter. I guess that makes it official - I am no longer a visitor or an oddity. No, I'm just home from a long vacation that has slipped into the silent, subtle pauses in conversation as deftly and as easily as I have slipped back in to the place it would seem I never left.
At first this lack of questioning made me just a little sad. To me, that one year away is monumental. I learned so much, and, in the process, I became someone different. And it would seem, no one wants to hear about it anymore. I can leave for eight months, return home, and within a week, it has become yesterday's news.
But in a way, I'm also glad that people no longer ask, "How was college?"
Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind when people ask about college. Rather, it's in how the question is asked. When someone asks "How was college?" how am I to respond? What am I to say?
I could tell them about the day I was so tired I went back to my dorm and took a nap between classes and the panic that ensued when I woke up two hours later to find my alarm had not gone off. I could tell them about how odd and funny I found it that it took all of five minutes to walk to church and yet half the ward would be late. I could tell them about the time I texted my friend at 10:45 pm to ask if she wanted to go running with me and then after she said no, I texted her again at 11:15 "don't worry. I found someone." That someone had been a girl from upstairs who in all honesty, I had met once but didn't know. After our run, we split a dinner at midnight at Panda Express and then stayed there talking for another hour. That's one thing I'll miss about the dorms. I could tell them about my new-found obsession with Britain's Got Talent, or how I had to bike three hours round trip to get to a place where I would volunteer in order to fulfill the required number of hours for my class in social work. But they don't really want to hear all this, or if they do, how does one start? So I smile, shrug slightly, and simply say, "It was good."
Last week, I got to eat lunch with a friend and I told her all about college. Of course, there was the element of time. She had the time to hear it all. But that wasn't the only difference. The difference was in how she asked. Had she only asked "How was college?" I would have told her the same thing I've told everyone else. "It was good." Because it seems the only answer.
Instead, though, she asked about specifics. And that was the key. So, just in the future, if you're really interested in getting an answer when your kids come home from school each day, or when your friend comes home from college, or a coworker returns from vacation, ask them what their favorite part was, what the worst part was, the scariest, the funniest, what one thing they'd take away from it, what they regret, what pushed their buttons or stretched them to the limit, what made them cry and what made them laugh, who their friends were, what their favorite class or activity was. Ask them anything! Ask them anything EXCEPT "How was your day?" or "How was college?"
You can start with that if you like (and if you're really not interested in hearing more you can end with that too), but if you want to hear more, you have to recognize that sometimes, in fact, most times, those just don't cover it.
It's why sometimes the fish don't bite, even when they're starving. The bait just wasn't good enough.
Candidly,
Cookie
At first this lack of questioning made me just a little sad. To me, that one year away is monumental. I learned so much, and, in the process, I became someone different. And it would seem, no one wants to hear about it anymore. I can leave for eight months, return home, and within a week, it has become yesterday's news.
But in a way, I'm also glad that people no longer ask, "How was college?"
Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind when people ask about college. Rather, it's in how the question is asked. When someone asks "How was college?" how am I to respond? What am I to say?
I could tell them about the day I was so tired I went back to my dorm and took a nap between classes and the panic that ensued when I woke up two hours later to find my alarm had not gone off. I could tell them about how odd and funny I found it that it took all of five minutes to walk to church and yet half the ward would be late. I could tell them about the time I texted my friend at 10:45 pm to ask if she wanted to go running with me and then after she said no, I texted her again at 11:15 "don't worry. I found someone." That someone had been a girl from upstairs who in all honesty, I had met once but didn't know. After our run, we split a dinner at midnight at Panda Express and then stayed there talking for another hour. That's one thing I'll miss about the dorms. I could tell them about my new-found obsession with Britain's Got Talent, or how I had to bike three hours round trip to get to a place where I would volunteer in order to fulfill the required number of hours for my class in social work. But they don't really want to hear all this, or if they do, how does one start? So I smile, shrug slightly, and simply say, "It was good."
Last week, I got to eat lunch with a friend and I told her all about college. Of course, there was the element of time. She had the time to hear it all. But that wasn't the only difference. The difference was in how she asked. Had she only asked "How was college?" I would have told her the same thing I've told everyone else. "It was good." Because it seems the only answer.
Instead, though, she asked about specifics. And that was the key. So, just in the future, if you're really interested in getting an answer when your kids come home from school each day, or when your friend comes home from college, or a coworker returns from vacation, ask them what their favorite part was, what the worst part was, the scariest, the funniest, what one thing they'd take away from it, what they regret, what pushed their buttons or stretched them to the limit, what made them cry and what made them laugh, who their friends were, what their favorite class or activity was. Ask them anything! Ask them anything EXCEPT "How was your day?" or "How was college?"
You can start with that if you like (and if you're really not interested in hearing more you can end with that too), but if you want to hear more, you have to recognize that sometimes, in fact, most times, those just don't cover it.
It's why sometimes the fish don't bite, even when they're starving. The bait just wasn't good enough.
Candidly,
Cookie
Monday, May 11, 2015
My Corner of Disney
If I were to paint a picture of bliss it might look something like this: Crisp fish 'n chips served on a newspaper placemat, classic blue and white china with depictions of homey cottages, farms and orchards, a bright red phone booth that makes me think of rainy streets and a simpler old-fashioned way of living, skinny alleyways crowded with shops, each adorned by baskets of flowers, striped awnings, and architecture I only wish I saw more of in the US, a mug that reads "Once Upon a time", steaming with hot chocolate, sitting inside the Writer's Stop with my leather-bound journal, a pen, and good book, looking out at the eiffel tower as the sun sets, and the night life stirs in the warm breeze of summer. Basically, the world showcase in Epcot. My corner of Disney. And whose to say I can't make it my corner of life?
One day I'll fulfill those crazy writer dreams. Ya know, those ones I haven't quite pinned down yet. Till then, I'll sit at my cluttered desk listening to the gurgling of the filter in my fish tank and the click of the keys as I type another blog post, looking out on the trees in front of my window, wishing job applications were done and over, snacking on Minnie Wheats, dreaming of the day when I can talk as excitedly about my career as I can about spending a week with the family in Disney World. Which was a blast.
Candidly,
Cookie
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Goldy
 |
| We thought the lips on the fish on the bottom right looked like Angelina Jolie's so we called her Angie. |
For my brother Dallin's birthday, we headed up to the Chattanooga, Tennessee Aquarium. Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing the marine life, but my favorite part is probably not what you'd expect. I find it kind of funny really.
My other brother, Jacob, had inserted a dollar into one of the fancy little coin presses and asked it for change to send spiraling down the funnels that are put there to collect the spare change from kids like my brother. You know, for marine life conservation funds and the like.
Much to my brother's dismay, it spit out a gold dollar. That dismay quickly turned into a wide grin. Gold coins may not be good to dump down fund-raising funnels but around here gold coins come only from the tooth fairy, which makes them high commodity and quite a treasure.
Jacob took out a five dollar bill, inserted it into the coin press, and then pressed the button for change and his grin widened as five gold coins spat out.
Dallin and I, who had been watching the sharks, quickly realized where the fun was at and soon had our own heeping piles of gold coins. Every dollar bill I had became a gold coin until my pocket was so heavy that my pants sagged to one side.
When we got back to the car it was like the floor of the stock market as we inspected our coins, peering over to get a look at each other's, and then quickly trading before either of us could change our minds.
Most kids trade Pokemon, we trade gold coins.
I'd say they make the ideal souvenir. They cost nothing and they never lose value.
Besides, they remind me of treasure chests and pirates sitting atop their plunders, counting their booty.
We probably looked pretty funny giggling and shrieking around the coin press machine, walking around with huge clinking bulges in our pockets, saying things that, to the people walking past our car, probably sounded pretty ridiculous. Things like, "I'll give you four Sacagaweas for your Lincoln."
But pirates don't seem to care what other people think. And nor did I, because, man, were we havin' fun.
Candidly,
Cookie
(In case you were wondering what's with the title, I asked my brother Dallin to title it. I'd say he's got a career in the making. You should've heard his other suggestions. Among them was "Little Fuzz Brains". Don't ask me where that came from.)
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Growing Up in Baby Steps
The other day when I was at lunch with a friend I mentioned how beautiful the food looked, but that I wasn't one to take a picture of it, much worse, post the picture. I really don't find any enjoyment browsing through pictures of other people's dinners. I just don't understand why people have this weird compulsion to take pictures of their food and broadcast them on social media. So I confess, I'm a hypocrite.
Anyone recognize this assortment? You might, had you been at Costco on Saturday. I had just finished my first round of samples and was heading back to my truck with two bags of baggles when my mom called with one more thing she'd forgotten to ask me to pick up.
I was fine with that. Over half an hour later, after my second round of samples, I was ready to walk out with my one item: a pack of gum.
The cashier recognized me and advised that it's much quicker to buy all your items at once. Thanks. I'll consider that next time.
It's also quicker to not stop for two rounds of samples. But what fun is that?
Besides, it may sound silly, but it makes me feel so grown up to grab my own samples. It's little things like this that lead me to the ironic conclusion "growing up happens in baby steps."
I was fine with that. Over half an hour later, after my second round of samples, I was ready to walk out with my one item: a pack of gum.
The cashier recognized me and advised that it's much quicker to buy all your items at once. Thanks. I'll consider that next time.
It's also quicker to not stop for two rounds of samples. But what fun is that?
Besides, it may sound silly, but it makes me feel so grown up to grab my own samples. It's little things like this that lead me to the ironic conclusion "growing up happens in baby steps."
On my way home I rolled down the windows, blasted the Frozen soundtrack and sang along with the carefree confidence of a little kid showing off with a toy microphine.
Because you're never too grown up for that.
Candidly,
Cookie
Friday, May 1, 2015
Adding Guacamole
 |
| Feeling so savvy - I figured out how to make a picture collage! And, of course, the rest of the world already knows how to do this . . . |
We met for lunch at Señor Patrons, a delicious Mexican restaurant. If the picture weren't so fuzzy, you could see the name through my car windshield in the picture of my shoes and truck, which I just had to take because I was feeling so put together. Most people think themselves classy if they can match their watch to their shirt. Me, I match my shoes to my truck. We're so cute together.
I ordered the Burrito Asada, which was to die for. Reading through the menu, I was sold when it said " . . . steak . . . and guacamole." I told my roommate one time while we were talking about English Majors (which we both were) and how much money they supposedly don't make, "I just want to make enough money to never have to think twice about adding guacamole." Then my friend asked for her dish without the guac and I almost had to reconsider our friendship. No, I'm only joking.
The food was great. The company was even better. So long as that is never flipped, I'd say life is pretty good. And life is good. Just the other day my blog reached fifteen international views from six different countries. You have no idea how exciting that was. I definitely did a victory dance because if the kids on the show Newsies (great show) can sing and dance about a tub of boiling water, I think I can justify a victory dance.
I shared this "exciting" news with my friend and that got us talking about my blog.
"What do you write about?" she asked.
Oh, boy. Good question. If anyone has the answer to that, I would love to hear it.
"Just about anything. Mostly life and big ideas,"I responded.
"Why don't you write a post about 'I can't?'" she suggested.
Great idea.
Gosh, dang it. The dryer's buzzing at me. I better start packing for our trip to Disney (so excited!).
. . . To be continued.
Candidly,
Cookie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)