Forgive me blog friends, it`s been three moves and two countries since my last post. Those of you who hang around me know I like to use pictures to illustrate my evocative ideas, however, I can`t find any because they are hidden on a phone that no longer works in the US. (The nice folks at the Genius Bar told me the sure-fire fix was to charge the phone) So I`ll pick up where I last left off next time.
Yes, the Clampitts have a moving schedule that makes military families quake in fear. And there are a few stories along the way that I`ll only tell my closest friends- and you.
Suffice it to say, I feel that I am a Master Mover. If I had a job, I`d list it as one of my core competencies. I can move myself, I can tell others how to move, I can organize all stuff (the few things left that haven`t been broken) and I can evade the tax authorities in several countries at one time. (JK on that- we pay our taxes but run from our gambling debt)
One of the most important components of moving is to maintain an accurate file of medical and dental records. This ensures that there are actual dental records to use for identification or to prove to your child that the gap between their teeth came back after they stopped wearing the retainer as prescribed. My file for each person is legal sized, expandable, and fire proof. I`m proud of my records. They contain every piece of irrelevant medical minutia related to my children and since I never got around to making baby books for the Offspring, will be their record of my love. After all, there are pics included in those records- X-rays of their skulls from the panoramic dental view to the pre and post braces close-ups. I`ll have them bound at the local Kinkos when they leave for college.
I felt pretty smug when I waltzed into the latest dentist office with files and x-rays in color coded files. Assured I had gained a spot in the “Best Practices of our Model Patients” I handed over the treasure trove that is my rich dental history.
“Oh Ouiser-san, we are so happy to have you. We`ll take a quick look at the latest x-rays and call you back in just a minute.”
I sat down in the waiting room confident in my lack of plaque build up. The hygienist was so efficient I didn`t have time to get past the “Chatter” page in the current People magazine before she emerged from the back my file in hand.
“Umm, Mrs Clampitt,” she hesitated as she leaned way to close to my face for comfort, ” these films are of your latest mammogram.”
I`m not as good as I thought.