Toothpaste

It stopped raining today. There was still enough humidity in the cool air to give a chill. Not a chill like a Halloween night where there is still a late feel of a summer evening but a chill to the bone that lets you know the dark days of winter are on the way.

With little peeks of sunshine, the adventurous were out trying to get in the exercise that was missed yesterday due to the rain. The same is true for me. A day without riding clogs up my sinuses doesn’t unkink my aches and pains and doesn’t really get my motor running. I thought I’d missed the church crowd, but there was a lot of traffic in the neighborhood. I guess drivers have to move the cars to unkink them too? I seem to remember a time when people would get in their cars just to ride around on Sunday. No particular place to go, just drive around to get out of the house.

The folks at the Tummy Temple seemed fairly glum. No smiling faces under all their layers of wool that made me think it must be colder than I thought. Maybe all their school’s teams lost yesterday?

Reload, check out and return home awaiting big boy football in my sweats. It is pure comfort of a winter Sunday afternoon. Gather some music and try to figure out a bass-line for a friend.

So what does any of this do with toothpaste?

Part of my daily routine is to brush my teeth. I’ve always brushed my teeth. It is nothing different everyday, just part of the routine. It is a activity that most of us do everyday without a thought. Of course the mussel and bustle of the household usually distract us.

So what does this daily activity promoted to children as a must hygiene habit have to do with anything?

As simple as the act of unscrewing the cap and squeezing out some goo onto a colored one sided brush to rub all over your mouth and then spit become routine and automatic, except when you are old and alone.

Do you remember the time it took for your grandmother to get dressed and prepare herself for the day? Every little detail is important. Tying shoes becomes a major accomplishment. Combing your hair can bond parent and child but it takes forever.

So for brushing your teeth some may need assistance. If they are not already in a jar, the same pattern of squeezing the tub and running the water and up and down and up and down and all around until the drool is spit.

Our promise to our dentist to floss and brush to maintain our pearly whites goes out the window when we started to smoke and drink and thought the latest gizmo with twirling electric brushes or strips made us feel we were doing out duty, once we found someone else who didn’t mind our bad breath, we put all those utensils in the medicine cabinet to catch dust.

There is an entire aisle of dental products with fancy glittering packages and false promises of eternal beauty but I buy the bargain brand (being my mother’s son). I religiously maintain the habit before I go out everyday and will continue for the only other thing I do in the bathroom should not get a mention.

All I ask is when you are standing in your skivvies looking at that odd face in the mirror churning away at a frothy mouth, cherish the chore as a wonderful activity that will become memorable as you grow older.

Spit.