what goes up comes crashing down after oral surgery, and sometimes sisters say the darndest things just to make their younger sister feel stupid.

Modern Drug has dredged up a random memory for me today. Please don't think I'm weird, but I'm just going to get it down on paper, for "posterity". And if Barb reads this, I'm curious if she remembers it the same way, or remembers it at all. I think I am the keeper of random, meaningless memories from our growing-up years in the 60's and 70's.
One day when I was 15, I had oral surgery. My younger brother Brad had told me that when he went "under" for the first time, he sang, "Saturday Superstar, Saturday Superstar, Saturday Superstar Mo-vie!" one time, and then it was over. He must've sang it pretty darn slow, I figure. My older brother Bruce had just had oral surgery a week before, and afterward was in so much pain that he stomped his foot really hard on the floor for a couple of hours. I wondered what my own experience would be.

In the waiting room, I was scared ....but thanking my lucky stars at the same time. The girl ahead of me was getting every one of her teeth pulled and getting dentures. I was only getting two upper molars sawed off the bone. Yes, I said SAWED. Not pulled, but sawed off with a saw, I assume. I had braces, and, the orthodontist had recently discovered that my teeth weren't moving because of these two steadfast stubborn old fellows. "They must be removed", he said....and so they were. I now have two bridges in their place, and all other teeth were able to move into their assigned spots.

After I emerged from the fog of the anesthetic, I think I was high. I was joyously happy. About what? I didn't know. I lounged on the recovery couch with a great big smile on my face, and everytime my mom asked me if I was ready to go yet, I'd slur in a sexy-sounding voice, "in a minute....". She'd ask me again in 10 minutes, and I'd say the same thing. Repeatedly for 30 minutes, which to me seemed like three. I thought she was getting really annoying, but I just laughed it off....hahaha. You silly, impatient mother!

On the way to Modern Drug Coffee Shop for a milkshake, which was next door to our dad's hardware store, I, who was normally shy, got on the CB radio and carried on lengthy conversations with truck drivers and anonymous kids around my age. I really enjoyed that. I said "10-4" a lot, and other CB codes I had learned.

When we entered the drugstore, I turned a corner down an aisle, and ran into my sister Barb, a year older than me. When I saw her, I burst into uncontrollable, audible sobbing. I couldn't stop myself. She said, "What's wrong with YOU?"

I sat next to her at the coffee shop counter with my face in my hands, crying about....WELLLLLLL? I just couldn't tell ya!

The old crabby waitress named Bird served up our chocolate milkshakes, and the concerned regulars sitting directly across the narrow formica counter from us kept asking my sister "Is she alright???" To which she replied, "Oh....pfft...she just got a tooth pulled"...and then rolled her eyes.