I’ve been relentless lately. Because my time on this earth is limited, I’ve been demanding J. take me on daily outings. These field trips are as much about getting me out of the house as they are opportunities to reminisce.
Earlier this week, we went to see the pandas at the zoo, and topped that off with a chocolate-vanilla swirl ice-cream cone. It was toss up between the animals and the ice cream. We’ve seen pandas before, and they were just as charming. And that ice cream cone? It tasted identical to the cones from the ice-cream truck that waited outside our school in the spring for eager child consumers like me.
The next day, we couldn’t quite make it to Israel so we did the next best thing: we went to lunch at a great middle eastern restaurant and ordered their falafel plate. We both agreed that the food didn’t compare to the Israeli fare we’d eaten, but it still sparked memories from our trip, which was only six months ago. I was going to live forever back then. A lot has changed in six months.
Then came Friday evening, the beginning of the May long weekend. I dragged J. out for a small hot-fudge sundae, which I will always associate with my running days. Soon after I moved to Calgary, my running mates topped off their long runs with a trip to the Dairy Queen. (Faulty logic, now that I think of it.) I’ve never looked back.
While we were eating, the sun glinted off my pearly whites, one of which J. noticed was not so pearly or white. This tooth had been sensitive on and off but I hadn’t considered a more serious problem. No time for reminiscing; I went into full panic.
By morning, the discolouration had worsened, so I did what any self-respecting dying person would do: I took measures to ensure I would not die of a tooth abscess. I called the hospital, spoke to the hematologist on call, and begged for antibiotics to tide me over the weekend. The kind doctor was very obliging. After a quick visit to the cancer centre (it would have been quicker had she not deemed me in need of platelets), I returned home and left a desperate message for my dentist.
I could tell you this experience had me reminiscing about my last root canal, which was botched so badly I ended up in the hospital under 24-hour watch. Thanks to me, the dentist landed an unprofessional conduct charge. Not my fondest memory. Next.
I will have to deal with this tooth pronto, but then I hope I can get right back to having fun. In a few weeks, we’ll be heading to London (or its closest facsimile, a local historical park), for high tea with scones and mini sandwiches. I’m also dying for dim sum. How better to recall long-ago outings in Toronto’s Chinatown? I can almost taste that warm sticky rice wrapped in a lotus leaf.
Funny how each of these memories has a food focus. (Sorry pandas, you were secondary to the ice cream.) That’s me in a nutshell, always planning my next indulgence. Hey, when’s the last time you shelled a nut? Every Passover when I was growing up….