Dr. Hamamoto is disappointed with me. My teeth are sound, I have excellent pockets, whatever those are, and aside from a lot of plaque my teeth don't appear to be the worse for not having been looked at in a year. I almost apologized to her. Then she bemused me by informing me she was American. While, I might add, she had my mouth full of dental equipment.
Aaaaah, I said obliquely, due to the dental equipment. She had an American accent. I just, you know, assumed she was American, not that I thought about it. Apparently she feels compelled to explain it to haoles, though, since she has a Japanese last name and it sounds like many of her clients assume she's Japanese. Weird. Then she said she could tell I was a natural, whole grain sort of person. Aaaaaaaaaaaah, I said with accompanying eye widening and eyebrow wiggling. Haaaaw?
Oh, your clothes and your face, she claimed cheerfully, clattering about in my mouth. Jiminy. No wonder she felt she had to explain her citizenship to me. She probably thinks everyone is as clueless as she is. I am about as natural and whole grain as Ivana Trump, okay? True, I was wearing a floaty, vintage party dress not too dissimilar to what hippies called granny dresses in the 60's, and I had sandals on, but puh-lease. If we are what we eat, I am a Dorito.
Actually, today I am fresh salmon with cream cheese on warm French bread, tamarind balls, tandoori chicken wings, marinated peppers, and a few sips of pinot grigio. I went to my favorite annual summer solstice party and the food was incredible. The day was obligingly fair, the air delicately scented with flowers, and to sit under the wisteria chatting to good friends over good food and drink while rainbow banners fluttered in the warm breeze overhead, and dozens of interesting, intelligent people wandered through the garden made for about as perfect a day as I can imagine. It's what I moved back to the Bay Area for. My friends, always talk talk talking. My tribe, gathered in the sunshine.
