"Don't touch me. I'm broken."

I have a hard time with dental appointments.

When I had a cleaning on Monday this week, the hygienist and dentist asked me if I knew I had a cracked tooth.

They started talking, and I started to lose it.

My dentist quickly realized this, and put her hand on my shoulder.

"It's just a crown," she said. "No implants or extractions or bone grafts or oral surgeons this time."

Oh. Just a crown? Not even a root canal to go along with that?

I can live with that.

I went back on Wednesday for my first crown appointment. When I sat down in the chair to look at the pretty view of the pond, I read a post-it note that was hanging from the blinds.

It said: "Don't touch me. I'm broken."

I sympathized with that post-it note, and I almost took it.

Don't worry, post-it note. I'm broken, too.

Literally, I'm broken...my tooth that I had fixed on Wednesday fell out of my mouth on Thursday.

Want to see it? It's pretty cute.

I get the permanent crown next week, so this little dude is just going to hang out with me in my office until then.

---

Comment from everyone at my dental office: "I forgot you have the world's tiniest mouth."

Thanks?

Hope.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Breathe in the amazing

Life is amazing. 

And then it's awful. 

And then it's amazing again. 

And in between the amazing and the awful, it's ordinary and mundane and routine. 

Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. 

That's just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. 

And it's breathtakingly beautiful.

- LR Knost

Don't divine things happen every day?

I finished The Next Person You Meet in Heaven this week.

It's a sequel to my favorite book of all time, The Five People You Meet in Heaven.

I can't even describe how perfect this book is. This is the perfect time in my life to read this perfect book.

Headlines.

I love Kansas.

Giant inflatable colon stolen in Kansas

Kansas man accused of stealing cake, vacuum from Dairy Queen

Sometimes I miss writing headlines.

On Jedis and truck stops.

This is going to be nerdy, so please be patient.

The only thing that I really know about Star Wars is that I don't like any of the movies. The Last Jedi was pretty, and I can appreciate that, but that's where my appreciation for all things Star Wars ends.

Anyway, I remember watching Episode 1: The Phantom Menace back in the day in the theater with friends. If I remember right, there had to be some reason I went to that movie. I'm guessing it had to do with a boy band and TRL on MTV.

(God, I'm old.)

Anyway, while on this weekend road trip with my friend friend, he had probably the best description of a Star Wars movie I've ever heard.

First, let's see what Dr. Google says about Episode 1:

When the Trade Federation cuts off all routes to the planet Naboo, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are assigned to settle the matter.

My friend friend has a point: The entire premise of the movie is that these Jedis can't get off of a planet.

In his words: "It's like SEAL Team Six being stuck at a truck stop."

Me: "Maybe they locked their keys in their car. Or maybe their car got stolen."

His words: "You're SEAL Team Six. Call a Black Hawk."

I hate losing arguments, but I have to give him this one.

He's not wrong.

Rainy trip.

"It's like a hipster grenade exploded."

Over the weekend, friend friend and I were walking in downtown Big City.

We saw a sign for a cool restaurant a couple of blocks away, but some girl was hungry, impatient and angry. I suggested a closer restaurant, mostly because it was right in front of my face, and friend friend agreed.

It was a Mexican food joint. Apparently the words "farm to table" were on the sign in front of the business, but I was honestly too hungry to read at that point. (Friend friend says hipsters love the "farm to table" concept and I'm all like...where do they think food comes from? Not a farm?)

We went inside this Mexican restaurant, and I quickly realized this was not only a Mexican food joint, this was a hipster Mexican food joint.

We lost count of how many flannel shirts and manly puffy vests there were around us. Oh, and the big, bushy beards!

When I got dressed that morning, I did not think about how to fit in to the hipster crowd in Big City.
I left my dorky glasses at home and I wasn't wearing flannel.*

I felt sorely out of place, and slightly too old to eat hipster tacos**.

In the words of friend friend: "It's like a hipster grenade exploded."

All I really wanted was a Diet Coke, but this place was way too cool for that. I had a blueberry soda instead.

(A blueberry soda and a taco don't really go well together.)

*We both wore flannel the next night and kind of fit in.

**My taco was tiny, but it was probably the best taco I've ever had. Also, the margarita I had was so strong, I had a dream I made margaritas last night.

I did not take a photo of my hipster tacos, so here's a hipster coffee and some cookies instead.