You'll never guess who I ran into today.

Okay, so! I was moseying through the Dollar store tonight, looking for stocking stuffers and whom should I run into? Why, Mr. Shumway of Big Doofus blog fame. Seriously. I know his name rings a bell for most of you. And for the few who are in the dark, Mr. Shumway is married to Miss Sniz, my dear online AND real life BFF. He had left a message on my cell phone just minutes earlier, asking my dh call him, as they had plans to watch the Bengals game this weekend on Mr. Shumway's Tivo.

I passed the message on to hubs and then?

A matter of minutes later, right before me, stood Mr. Shumway. It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone.
Check phone.
Message from Mr. Shumway.
Pass message on.
Mr. Shumway appears out of nowwhere.
Do do, do do. Do do, do do.

Btw, he was successfully managing 3 adorable little girls in the blazing heat. Oh sure, it was a frigid 30º outside, but in the Dollar store? Well, let's just say one could spend an hour in there and come out minus some water weight. It was smokin' hot and I figured either their thermostat was malfunctioning or I had a nasty case of, oh, say, Malaria. Plus, I was tired and perhaps melting. Not a pretty combo and not the best way to stay awake for a shop-a-thon either (good thing they weren't selling hammocks for a dollar, or I'd have needed a nap from all that heat.)

Anyway, back to the Bengals game. My dh felt like a big heel because he had to cancel on the game night plans. Why? Oh, because one of his teeth dared to need a root canal at this most festive time of year. Really, what were the chances? I'll pause while you let that sink in for a moment.

Yep! At 5:30pm on Saturday, dh will be hearing the drill, drill, drill and the feeling the tug, tug, tug of a root canal (Hey, wasn't there a song by the Police that went something like, "Da drill drill drill. Da tug tug tug, is all I want to say to you,"?) Ah, the sights and sounds of expensive dental work Christmas. Oh, and he needs a crown too, which okay, sometimes is necessary. But sheesh, according to our insurance plan you better choose your toothache battles carefully because they'll only pay for one (count carefully), that's right, O-N-E crown in a 5 year period. ONE. That does it. I'm only feeding Carl mashed potatoes and oatmeal for the next five years.

Who the heck performs root canals on a Saturday at 5:30pm, you ask? Why, Immediadent. Hopefully, it'll be a licensed dentist and everything, especially since Mr. Shumway enlightened me that pliers and Advil might work we had better options within literal walking distance and just didn't know it. It's just that when I picture dh at Immediadent, I hear Buzz Lightyear's comment about the evil Sid playing like a broken record in the back of my mind ("I don't believe that boy ever went to medical school.") Now, I do realize I'm not being very objective and that the dentist may be fully competent to do the root canal. I guess it's the RN in me that feels the need to size up the care specifics.

Mr. Shumway is a very thoughtful person, btw. He was going to have Skyline Chili for the game since it's a big Cincinnati thing and dh is the all out Bengals fan. Only, now I have to laugh because I picture what might have happened if he went to Mr. Shumway's house anyway after the root canal. I see slurred speech and chili drool. ROFLOL! I crack me up. In all seriousness though, I know dh was looking forward to hanging out with the guys. And of all things, a stinkin' root canal.
On a Saturday evening.
At Christmas.
I'm really not making this stuff up, folks. It happens in my life.
Mr. Shumway as my witness.

*****

And as a sidenote, my Reece is upstairs doing "banga banga" as we call it. He's a head banger who sometimes falls to sleep by bouncing his head on the pillow. Sometimes he even hums a catchy tune, as he's doing right now. His banga song of choice?
"The rain came down and the sun came up, the rain came down and the sun came up." Sunday School grads will know this song as The wise man built his house upon the rock.

Toni