Have you heard of The Giant Mechanical Man? It’s a movie. A delightful one. It streams on Netflix if that helps you out, and is one my sister would definitely characterize as a Lindsay movie. [Read: Indie-ish, odd, not mainstream.]
In the movie – in addition to a whole lot of other stuff happening with silver face paint and scenes at a zoo [I’m totally selling it, right? <sarcasm>] – two of the main characters have the same dream. A dream about their teeth falling out.
I saw this movie weeks ago when Paige & Karen & I had a sleepover at the ROG B&B but it kept replaying in my mind this week again as my own teeth began falling out. … say what?
Okay. Not multiple teeth and not even a whole tooth. It was Maundy Thursday and I had just gone to get the mail from the mailbox. I was chewing gum. La di da. Sorting mail. Blowing bubbles. Opening letters. Chomp, chomp, cho –
There is suddenly something very hard in my gum. Upon further investigation, it’s a part of a tooth and it’s disgusting. [Luckily, it doesn’t hurt. A corner of a molar. I have an appointment next week to get it checked out.] Last year on Maundy Thursday, my heel broke during worship. This year, apparently, it’s my teeth. Should we cast lots for what breaks next year? Maybe an arm or a leg?
there's no place like gnome. 
Oh, girl. That sucks. I’m about to get fitted for crown #3 in a few weeks. My incident occurred on the Wednesday before Holy Week. Sometimes I think we’re kindred.
Ugh. I’m sorry to hear that. Suckfest. I’m hoping I’m done with the dentist for awhile now. No fun. [Not to mention my dentist learned that I am a pastor – nearly always a mistake to tell people that – and he happened to have taken a recent trip to the Holy Land. Hello, 45 minutes of non-stop talking and me nodding with wide-open numb mouth.]