PORTLAND BABY BOOMERS WHINE?

When it comes to root canals Portland baby boomers aren’t the only whiners.

After a visit to the local endodontist for some root work it was a choice of pain meds or VooDoo juice.

Is there really a choice when you’ve got VooDoo brand wine in the house?

Seriously, is there a better time for voodoo to work its magic?

Before deciding which way to go, check the list of things to do and don’t do after a root canal.

Portland baby boomers know the drill. One root canal at sixty is a win. Ask around and you’ll hear about many of them from younger people.

Ask around and you’ll also see expressions that look like they’re sucking a lemon.

“Root canal? Ewwww.”

It’s not on top of everyone’s list of favorite things, but neither is letting it ride until you hear those magic words, “Tooth extraction.”

Call it biting the bullet and make an appointment. While you’re there take a picture of the action and send it to your brother. You know, to stay in touch.

Looks like this:

That’s a gold crown above the electric looking roots.

Spooky, right?

That’s the done deal. It felt like it was plugged in before the work and looks plugged in after.

Since you need that pain relief from the VooDoo juice, you’ll feel in the mood to plug in an electric guitar and let ‘er rip.

What’s better than getting lost in a wall of sound coming out of a Fender amp with two twelves?

Have another glass of wine before answering.

If you have a dog and a carpet you may notice a few spots. Maybe quite a few.

While that second glass of wine settles in, count the spots. Connect the dots.

If you get to twenty you’ve been neglecting the carpet. Now you can’t turn the amp up to 11.

You can turn on the rug shampoo.

Responsible Portland baby boomers get this. A clean rug is a happy rug. If your partner is out of town, a clean rug ought to mean a happy return. We don’t break the news early.

Get in there and erase those dog spots.

At the same time be glad your bundle of best friend ever is draining on the carpet and not the expensive area rug hand made in some hot place.

Why doesn’t the dog go outside? Because it can’t open the door.

Why doesn’t doggy use the doggy door? It’s a small animal with a large bladder. It’s little brain in it’s little head can’t figure it out yet.

After the rug’s clean take a moment to ring the special Arizona bells.

They sound great, but there’s something about electricity and metal you ignore.

Conductivity or something. No sparks means you’re safe. This time.

Bell ringing and rug cleaning and wine means one thing.

Another bottle, of course.

Since the bottles are stored upright the cork bottom has some scuzz on it. Are you afraid?

Don’t be, it’s wine scuzz. How bad can it be until it turns into vinegar?

By now the tulips start looking magical. You want to eat one. I wouldn’t, but go ahead.

You wouldn’t be the first Portland baby boomer to chomp a tulip button.

The tooth? What tooth? Which one hurts? None of them.

Actually nothing hurts and it’s a good thing.

You’re ready for some of that guitar but you’re tired. Wine tired.

You need a place to lay down. Hit this couch and you won’t get up any time soon.

That’s the magic of blue velvet.

Couch gravity pulls you close, but be strong and break away.

Another glass of wine ought to do the trick.

This time have a sip and move on. Big Red is calling your name.

What sort of music goes well with root canals and wet carpet?

Swamp Rock, baby.

Born On The Bayou. Polk Salad Annie, (gator get your grannie.) Marie Laveau.

Play that guitar, boy.

Hit twelve bars as many ways as you can think of, then do it again.

Sip that wine.

Be glad your tooth was in good hands earlier in the day and treat yourself to some overdriven riffs from hell.

AC/DC on tap. Jimi Hendrix on the watch tower. Crank it like you mean it and put a smile on your face.

Yeah, that smile. From doing that VooDoo you do to clean rugs and no current running through any teeth, start blasting.

Do a 1-4-5 in the Key of E with a turnaround. And a one, and a two, and a three. Larry Welk would approve.

Then do Cat Scratch Fever to honor the chin.

When you finish, cut off the facial hair. Enough is enough. Really. You’re not a biker.