Nightcap 10/02/12

Many things happened at that little cottage near Acheson Lake. Most of them were in-depth dentistry lectures and seminars. Slides, talks, little discussion groups. I can remember passing around plaster mould jaw sets purportedly belonging to astronauts and other national heroes. I remember handing them to you and seeing your own smile. The speakers came from the nearby 16 week dental college. We immediately agreed to never let them touch our mouths. Although they denied it, you were convinced they were prisoners who had plea-bargained their sentences down in exchange for doctoring the teeth of the state's orphans. I was so jealous. I remember one weekend one of them (Andre? Xander?) brought an x-ray machine and you begged him to let you keep his lead apron. He would've let you, too, if I hadn't taken his machine out on the boat to try to read the thoughts of the trout. I wrote in my journal that you smelled like honey so much I thought you had a disorder. Then it turned out you did, that you had kept it a secret and that it just made you write on strangers' arms and had nothing to do with the smell.

Anyway, happy anniversary. I've murdered a dog in the driveway.

About Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn’t. He can’t stand that shit.

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