Stacy Horn

I’m in Brookline, MA, in my hotel room, chilling out for a bit, before the dinner to honor my cousin. This will be an interesting dinner because my temporary teeth fell out on the way up. I stopped in a drugstore and bought that cement stuff that never really works, and right now my teeth are back in but crooked, and I can’t quite close my mouth all the way, and you just know what is going to happen in the middle of dinner.

Should we take bets? I say it happens if and when I’m introduced to the most senior person at Dana Faber, or when I meet the only single man there my age. They will fall into a glass of water with a nice splash and a plunk noise, just like in the movies, for all to see. Actually, if life were like the movies, I’d end up marrying the cute guy who witnessed my supreme embarrassment.

A ballet school we passed by while I looked for a place to buy a metrocard. I have to get up at the crack of dawn to take the subway to my bus and I’m terrified of missing it.

– I never come upon stray or abandoned cats. The last time was when I was 14 and I went into a public bathroom and there was a lady trying to flush a kitten down a toilet. I started screaming at her and she ran in terror, thank god. (I rescued the kitten, all was okay.) If I had found this little guy, that would have been that. The incredibly sweet story of the recovery of Cheeto, told in pictures mostly.

– A friend of mine has started an effort to bring back the WPA (Works Project Administration). He suggests they begin by photographing and documenting the damage of Hurricane Sandy. That reminds me, I had to drop my camera off to repair the damage from Hurricane Sandy, so I have to borrow a camera for my trip to Boston tomorrow. (There’s a dinner to honor the Von Hippel–Lindau (VHL) disease research conducted by my cousin William Kaelin and Joyce W. Graff.)

– Alright, this one about a failed ceasefire negotiation between the governments of Israel and Hamas is depressing, but maybe when you’re done go back to the story of Cheeto (great cat name, by the way).

Update: This one will cheer you up. The Occupy folks turn a wonderful corner.

This is taken from my bedroom, looking into the window in my kitchen, right before Hurricane Sandy hit. I was restless and ready for something to happen.

There’s a scene in almost every film version of A Christmas Carol where Tiny Tim looks in a window at all the toys he can’t have. Luckily, I’m not particularly acquisitive, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be able to buy anything I wanted. (For the record, I do not want anything in this window. Alright, maybe one of those cupcakes, except they’re not real.)

I walk around and it’s window after window of beautiful things, and beautiful apartments with libraries and chandeliers and grand pianos, and I’m human, and I have an imagination. What would it be like??

It’s hopeless. Part of the problem is, Bleeck loves to do this full-body-glom-on-Finney thing. He leaps onto Finney’s back, wraps his legs around Finn’s belly, and will not let go. He looks like a bizarro kitten-cape. An evil kitten-cape, because he’s biting Finn’s neck the whole time. I’m sure he isn’t hurting him, or at least not terribly. He does a similar thing to my arms and legs. The funniest thing is he purrs the entire time he’s doing it. I’m so happy, chew, chew, chew, this is the best, purr, purr, purr, mwah-ha-ha.

So when I walk into the bedroom I think Finney’s expression means, “Save me.”

Feeding time. Bleeck has to have all the food, of course. I should separate them, but Finney eats a few bites at a time, rests, eats some more. I’d have to separate them for a long time which would make both cats miserable. Each cat quickly gets bored with whichever room they’re in and they like to roam.

This is me attempting a mini-separation. Bleeck’s food was in the kitchen, and Finney’s food was on the … couch? Good lord, what was I thinking?

I’m afraid my experience is going to turn others off to getting a dental implant. But if you do the research, an implant is the best long term solution. I also realize this post is boring if you’re not considering getting an implant, so I’m writing for those people only.

Quick recap: I broke one of my two large front teeth when I was nine, and I’ve been wearing a cap ever since. There’s also been steady bone loss ever since, which included the small tooth next to it. Those two teeth were pulled last year, I got a bone graft which didn’t take, and I just had a second graft last month. Now I have to wait six months for it to heal and to see if the second graft took, and if it did I can proceed with the implant.

Please keep in mind that my situation is more involved than most, and that’s for two reasons. One, it involves a large area, so it was a BIG bone graft. Two, it’s the very front, everything they do shows. So for aesthetic reasons they have to be very careful and precise about every step. The first bone graft failed due to the mesh covering the graft. It was made of a new material that didn’t do the job. If you’re doing this, don’t go for the experimental mesh.

My impressions of the dental implant process so far: The tooth pulling was fine, the bone grafts are more of an ordeal. There’s a lot of swelling, and it takes a long time to heal. When you compare it to genuine life trials and tribulations it’s nothing, but I thought I should be honest and not represent it as a piece of cake. Due to the swelling, (and it’s now three weeks later) my face looks a little off and my smile is just plain weird. I think it took three months last time for my face to go back to normal. Not that I look hideous, just a little off. Again: my bone grafts involved a large area. This is not going to be everyone’s experience.

Actually, if you look at my author photo up there on the right, that was taken three months after my first graft. My smile still looked weird, hence the closed mouth smile. But other than that my face was back to normal.

My true Veterans Day Parade-crushes, the men and women in fur.