In fear and trembling, I finally did it: I made an appointment to see dentist Dr. Mark Babbitt* on June 2. (That's an appropriate date--it's the seventy-first anniversary of my father's death.) Well, at least, until June 1, I can pretend it's not going to happen.
Gail picked me up at noon and we drove to town. At my suggestion, we parked at the library and walked the mile to The Himalayan. This time, I had chicken something something curry and so did Gail. It was good, but I couldn't really tell the difference in the meat part--could have been dog, for all I know.
We walked back, stopping in a few shops on the way. I picked up the book I had requested (And I Alone Survived) at the library and Gail drove me home. Got in at 2:30 and immediately took off for Oxnard to get my bus pass. I really don't need it, as my drivers' license had always been accepted since it has my birth date on it, but I just thought it would come in handy.
I called Nancy from Oxnard to see how her hip is. She said it seems to have improved, but is continuing the cold packs and Tylenol. Got home at 5:00.
*I doubt if he's a Sinclair Lewis fan, but I'm going to ask him if he's ever been teased about his name. Not only is Lewis'es well-known book called Babbitt, but it has entered the language as meaning somebody who confirms unthinkingly to prevailing middle-class standards. In other words, a conformist bore. Boy, do I know a lot of them, male and female.
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