Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Good Friends Among the Best Things in Life

A lovely afternoon with Ms Bell, who had flown to Regina to attend a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band concert in Raymore, Sask., with a girlfriend and then drove out here to spend the afternoon with me yesterday. We had a leisurely lunch and then when Aunt Reta went for a nap, Cathy and I took a nice long walk in the hot sun and much-appreciated wind.

Isn't she a doll? And then there's me; I make all my pals look good. Of course, Cathy is a young chick compared to me. We were roommates at Luther College when she was in Grade 8 and I was in Grade 10. She is the most professionally accomplished person I know and very hardworking, and also has her life priorities straight and is kindhearted and a straight-shooter. I count myself fortunate to have the most wonderful friends, caring and true. 

That crooked tooth of mine seems to be getting worse. Is it worth doing anything about it, I wonder, at my age?

When I was in my early thirties, a dentist told me I should have my upper wisdom teeth pulled because there was so little space in my mouth that they were already crooked and would push my teeth out of alignment. I ignored his advice and now regret it. (As the founding editor, former editor-in-chief, and my employer at the Canadian Encyclopedia for 10 years once said, what is the sense of asking for input from an expert and then ignoring it? Live and learn.)

 I did have the wisdom teeth pulled within the past couple years but it doesn't make any difference now, as at my age (56) the teeth are firmly set in bone and will not be likely to move on their own even when given more space.  I would probably have to get braces and wear them for at least a year. Do I care enough about straight teeth to do that? Not just the expense of it, but the discomfort. I don't think so. But I can't say as I'm pleased when I see photos of myself with the crooked tooth. Not that I ever have liked photos of myself, so let's be realistic; it doesn't really matter what I do or don't do. I'll be self-critical anyway, as women often are.

Aunt Reta dropped me off at work this morning and went to my Aunt Shirley's at Margo to spend a few days. I just called her to say I've gotten used to her presence and now I miss her. It's true.

And here's Joni Mitchell's video and song "Good Friends." Sometimes change comes at you like a broadside accident. There is chaos to the order; random things you can't prevent. Michael McDonald's voice (he's joined her in this endeavour) makes me lustful. No nerves of steel, no hearts of gold. No blame for what we can and can't control. It doesn't take much, mind you. Watching two people kiss on television will do it! And that's a good thing as far as I'm concerned.


  1. Kate, you look GREAT! You are so you, the tooth is "beauty mark". But I do take your point about self criticism, it is a bottomless pit. I was just thinking last week as I looked in mirror and thought, if only a few pounds would melt there, and realized that if they did, my roving eye would rest on another "shortcoming" and simply begin the self criticism on another basis. So I adjusted my eyes, pretended I was a Renoir model, and smiled at myself in the mirror.

    The photo is wonderful!

    1. That's kind of you, Maggie. As for the self-criticism, or the overcoming of it (let's say), there seems to be a sort of inevitability to visual disappointments when it comes to oneself when aging, and I am trying to embrace and transform this dislike of the mirror and photographs into a healthy acceptance that if I want to keep living, I have to get older and so then I more or less have to look my age, and there is nothing wrong with looking my age! Or looking like myself, period, crooked tooth and all. I know what's important in life, and it's not how I look.


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