I Really Want To Write About Seeing the Starbucks RED Cups But Instead I'm Going to Talk About Dirty Teeth

Yesterday I went to the dentist for the first time since 2004. I am on the Olympiad schedule, so when Michael Phelps hits the pool in London, I will know that is my personal signal to call and make another appointment.

It's not like I try to never go, but there are always things that come up and it makes me CRAZY that they usually want to schedule the appointment for six months out.

Call me flaky, but I am unwilling to commit to anything six months in advance except continuing to be married and eating chocolate.

Also, I have dentist-commitment issues.

Growing up, our dentist was a close family friend and lived right down the street on our cul-de-sac. I knew him, his family, and that he went to Real Dental School, and didn't just take an online course giving him permission to snoop around in my mouth and put "DDS" after his name.

Then in Texas, the mom of one of my students was a dentist and she took great care of me. She knew I had the power to give her son a "P" instead of an "S" on the all-important First Grade Report Card and threw in some teeth-whitening freebies and didn't charge a ton.

Obviously, I loved her.

But since we've been in Denver, I haven't found a dentist with whom I feel a connection or any strong desire to spend time with more than once in six years.

And I am blessed that my teeth really don't need that much attention (they are still recovering from being showered with love and affection in high school) so my motivation is ZERO.

Well (and this is going to be a lot gross) my lower teeth were getting to the point that when I brushed them, they didn't feel clean anymore.

I scrubbed and scrubbed and they just wouldn't take off their ever-thickening wool sweaters. In fact, they were starting to dress in layers and sleep in sleeping bags.

And I couldn't have that kind of behavior going on in my mouth.

A good friend of mine is a dental assistant, so I finally caved and called the dentist she worked for to make an appointment. Of course, they got me right in and I bribed myself with visiting the Starbucks next door to the office after the exam.

Well, this Dentista is great and think I made a new dental bond. (had to)

Do you know what I loved about her?

She didn't make me feel guilty about:

a) being AWOL from the dentist for 4 years

b) Brad being AWOL even longer

c) having an almost 5 year-old who sucks her thumb

d) drinking enough coffee and Diet Dr. Pepper to have a perma-stain on my teeth

e) flossing only as I feel led and can actually find dental floss that hasn't been used to tie up stuffed animals

f) using a "handheld" aka regular toothbrush instead of a fancy one I've secretly been wanting to buy at Costco

As if all of that wasn't great enough, I got to watch "Elf" while she investigated my mouth.

It was really hard not to laugh at all of the lines I've heard a thousand times and committed to memory, seeing as we already own this movie. But it did get me in the mood for Christmas.

And candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup.

Unfortunately, Dr. Steph (she hasn't given me permission to call her that) and I are going to become better acquainted next week when I have to go in for a little follow-up procedure. And NO, this is not due to recent negligence...just some upkeep.

Although I am not motivated to keep up with the regular visits, I AM motivated to get to watch the rest of "Elf."

So I guess she has tricked me into coming back with reverse psychology and Will Ferrell as bait.

Hey, whatever works.