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Rain, cooler temperatures expected for most of the weekend in the Wyoming Valley

Authorities: School shooter killed father before rampage

<p>You know that nightmare we&#8217;ve all had where our teeth inexplicably fall out, turn to dust and vanish? This was interpreted to me as a typical anxiety dream. How unusual for me to manifest anything having to do with anxiety during sleep or even waking hours.</p><p>This week, that nightmare became a legitimately horrendous reality.</p><p>I was innocently nibbling on a (largish) cookie, which is most definitely not on my current Mother of the Bride Meal Plan. That cookie was so good, until it wasn&#8217;t. I was enjoying it so thoroughly, that the sound of a whispering fissure barely registered within my sugar-hazed bubble of happiness. Then I felt something slip from my gum.</p><p>I ran to the bathroom, lowered my hand and let out a blood curdling scream, the likes of which I have only displayed during childbirth, and when McDonald&#8217;s discontinued offering its McRib full time. My front tooth had vanished. What the hell? This only happens during my REM sleep cycle! Hello, Ellie Mae Clampett.</p><p>I screamed again.</p><p>My husband came running and I opened my mouth. He laughed uproariously and informed me that Ellie Mae actually had perfect teeth and I was stereotyping.</p><p>Lucky for him, without this tooth, I couldn&#8217;t pronounce my &#8220;f&#8217;s&#8221; or &#8220;th&#8217;s.&#8221; I tried to wish him a %$# you but all he heard was the wind whistling through the vacant space where my lateral incisor had just evacuated.</p><p>He insinuated maybe I shouldn&#8217;t have eaten the cookie.</p><p>He insinuated this was a very bad mess without dental insurance and I would be forced to gum my food for the rest of the week.</p><p>He insinuated I would have to go without my Snyder&#8217;s of Hanover hard pretzels before bedtime.</p><p>Guess what I insinuated he was going to go without before bedtime?</p><p>I called my dentist.</p><p>He was packed solid.</p><p>I wept. I begged. I promised I wouldn&#8217;t use his name in this column.</p><p>He brought me in under duress. He probably wanted me to cease and desist the repeated phone calls rife with melodramatic wailing, heaving hyperventilation peppered with screams of: &#8220;My toof! My toof! I lost my toof!&#8221;</p><p>That&#8217;s not even an exaggeration.</p><p>Dr. A. suggested that maybe this missing tooth would make me talk less! I know he literally had my dental work in his hand but I tried to wish him a &#8220;%^&amp;* you&#8221;, as well.</p><p>Missing teeth make me cranky.</p><p>Anyway, he thought I said &#8220;hug you,&#8221; so we&#8217;re fine.</p><p>Bless his heart, he did me a solid, squeezed me in and fixed me right up &#8211; temporarily. I have a faux tooth until my real faux tooth arrives, I hope via FedEx.</p><p>I have a placeholder which doesn&#8217;t look like a lemon tic tac so I&#8217;m thankful. I no longer am a freakish Maria-o&#8217;-lantern or Stu from &#8220;The Hangover,&#8221; and I&#8217;ve stopped crying. Until some other minor tragedy befalls me and I blow it entirely out of proportion.</p><p>I never said I wasn&#8217;t dramatic, but, I&#8217;m telling you, when a toof mysteriously disengages from your mouth, you become a different person.</p><p>Me? I became Gomer Pyle and I never even finished that cookie.</p><style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck</p><p>Life Deconstructed</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck of West Pittston is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: My tooth fairy must be on sabbatical