A. Poulain

At exactly 12 midnight the credits rolled on "Amelie," of which I finally caught the second half; the tape was stopped in the player two or more weeks ago. That happy/sad accordion music during the credits always makes me tear up a little.

Or, the tearing might be caused this time by the fact that everything between my right upper rear molar and the hinge of my jaw is slightly swollen and sore to numbness. As though I were recovering from the dentist, though in fact I haven't been yet -- my appointment is on Wednesday, when they'll take xrays, and then presumably schedule me in at the oral surgeon's. I have a complicated impaction of a wisdom tooth, a sort of ticking time bomb that the dentists have been glad to let alone over the years, due to its nearness to both my molar (a dead one, with a crown) and my sinus. They'll probably pull the damned molar to let the wisdom tooth descend. (Extractions like that are cheap, ironically -- I've put a lot of money into that molar, with the root canal and the crown and all.) I'm on antibiotics now. The rotten thing is probably infecting my jaw. What a trial.

12:11. I'm supposed to have been writing checks for work all this time, something I didn't do earlier because of the Open House and Community Meal. But "Amelie" distracted me, so now I'll have to find something else to keep me awake while I finish. Maybe an ice pack.

Tomorrow (today) -- another unknown experience awaits. A "training" session with the synod, supposedly to prepare me to be a delegate of my church at the annual synod assembly. Like secret rites -- initiations, a test! Will I pass, with my puffy face?

Outside the wind is knocking the bamboo windchime into the corner of the house. My husband, who handily prepared enough chicken-with-dumplings tonight to feed an army at church, is snoring deservedly in the bedroom. My son sleeps too, exhausted by the day's events. And I am typing one-handed instead of writing checks, while my other (left) hand presses a bag of frozen peas in a washcloth to the right side of my face. Sounds pathetic! But I think I'm happy.