......scraping

Yogis,
I opened wide for the initial inspection. The tiny handheld mirror and long pic went in and passed slowly over every tooth. ‘Clean as always!’ the hygienist exclaimed. ‘This will be a quick appointment.’ Now this is not how it has always been.  

Every six months like clockwork I head to the dentist for a cleaning and checkup. It’s never been my favorite activity as my teeth are not the strongest part of my body. My mouth is a lifelong construction project. More fillings than I can count, crowns, root canals and an implant. Even a Maryland bridge put in when I was about ten that the dentist marvels at each time he sees it. A true relic.

The gentle scolding at the end of the appointment for my plaque buildup has also never been a highlight. I brush very well twice a day, eat healthy and keep up with my appointments. You need to floss more……you should get an electric toothbrush…..brush longer……mouthwash. I will, I promised, knowing full well nothing was going to change.

Until I began tongue scraping.

I can’t remember how I ended up with a tongue scraper but 4 or 5 years ago I decided to start using it. After every brushing and rinse I grab for the scraper. Placing the metal horseshoe end toward the back of my tongue I pull toward the front of the tongue a few times. Final rinse and good to go!

After about a year I noticed that the little lecture at my appointments became shorter. The scraping of tartar off my teeth was nowhere near as tedious. And my mouth felt great. The improvements continue.

Tongue scraping is an ancient ayurvedic practice which probably began being done in Europe by the affluent in the 15th century. It wasn’t until the 20^th century that tongue scrapers began to hit our US commercial market and is still not practiced by many. But the benefits for such a simple routine are plentiful.

It removes many unwanted bacteria from the tongue. Breath is better. Less plaque (halleluiah!) which can equate to less cavities. Reduced inflammation of the gums. Improved sense of taste. In general, better overall dental health.  For about a $7 investment. I’ll take that any day!

The other thing I notice is that scraping gives me instant feedback on myself. There are times where what comes off is not very attractive, indicating I have probably not been eating my healthiest. Other times it is clear and almost nonexistent, telling me I’m on the right track. And once it became habit, my tooth brushing doesn’t feel complete without it.

A new year approaches so consider adding this simple and easy practice to your day. As my mom always says…..what’s the worst thing that can happen?

Go for a metal one (we don’t need any more plastic in our bodies) and at first start scraping from the middle of the tongue and over time as your mouth gets used to it you can start further back.

The dental field does not seem to have embraced tongue scraping in their protocols so you most likely won’t hear it from them. And with dental insurance becoming almost obsolete and costs rising, consider this my public service announcement.

Would love to hear how it goes,
SARAH

.....O Christmas tree

Yogis,
Getting ready for the holidays is a month-long event. Each week holds certain activities on the to do list that have to happen. Putting up the lights……hanging a wreath…..digging out the cookie tins…..buying the wrapping paper….sending a tip to the paper delivery guy. This week’s calendar included a day for getting the Christmas tree.

What a funny thing. Heading to a temporary lot set up with a sea of different trees, selecting the one that is right, tying it to the top of the car and bringing it home where it will take up residence inside the house for a few weeks. But how is it that we know which is the right one?

When I was growing up, our ‘right’ tree was always one that was not too tall, quite thick and definitely Christmas tree shaped.  We had a vision in mind and were particular that the tree matched that image. That job often fell to me and my dad.  

I have memories of us heading out in the dark after he got home from work. We would stand up every tree in the lot and more than once did not find the right tree. On we would go to the next lot. And so on…… One year I think we even went home treeless and tried again the next day. We knew what we wanted and weren’t going to settle for just any tree.

I carried this with me into marriage much to the chagrin of my family. Being a mom of three boys, every tree that was stood up for our inspection looked perfect to them. No one shared my need to find just the right one. They would humor me for a bit but if the shopping started to become extended they would begin to wrestle and bicker with each other forcing a quick decision.

For a couple years I thought it would be a good idea to make tree shopping part of a family outing and would head an hour north and add in some holiday activities and a lunch. The trees were a little less expensive and it would put us in the Christmas mood. That only lasted until the year we pulled onto the highway and one of our sons was literally sobbing in the backseat that they didn’t want to go. U-turn. Ho, ho, ho.

I watched other families as they arrived at the fire station Monday night. Some do as we do and look at several trees. Others say yes to the first tree put in front of them. Some want tall, some want narrow. Scotch pine, Douglas fir, Frasier fir. Everyone has an opinion. Are they also making their decisions based on their upbringing? Are my childhood friends who always had the very skinny tall trees with only white lights now sitting in front of one of those in their own homes?

I have mellowed a bit. The tree should be about nine feet tall, have a nice shape and no gaping bare spots. Typically, I can select a tree from four or five we are shown. My idea of right has softened and each year as the tree sits with me in the great room and wraps me in the smell of a forest, I fall in love every time.

I have also dropped tinsel from my repertoire,
SARAH

.....detour

Yogis,
It’s Friday morning and I’m packing for a quick weekend trip to visit friends in Pennsylvania. The plan is to leave by noon because as you probably know, any later is asking for trouble on a Friday on Interstate 95. I check my phone for directions to see what it is looking like and notice that it has me veering off I95 north of Baltimore. Uh, oh.

We weren’t leaving for a couple of hours and assumed that whatever the obstacle was would surely be cleared up by then. Imagining a detour creates that small pit in my stomach since I know 95 and can almost drive it with my eyes closed at this point.

Noon comes. Car loaded. Phoebe nestled into her bed behind me. I pull up the gps again……..no change. Certainly, in the hour it takes us to get north of Baltimore all will be resolved. Off we go!

Smooth ride north and through the tunnel. Making good time. Coming out the other side, a highway sign flashes brightly ’95 North – all lanes closed at Delaware border.’ Shoot. My phone tells me to exit fifteen miles up on a road I have never traveled.

The remaining hour and a half of the ride winds us through countryside and as soon as I relax my mind’s irritation with this unplanned detour and loosen my grip on the steering wheel, things change. I begin seeing cleared open fields and rolling hills. The way the sun lights the tree tops. Old bridges and quaint small towns. I find myself starting to like this new route.

Instead of eighteen wheelers on my left, cows grazed. Rather than rest stops we passed old barns.

When driving on 95 I am comfortably numb. No thinking. The miles click by as each looks like the one before and after. When we keep traveling the ‘known’, the mind gets bored and wanders off on a trip of its own. We stop seeing. On this brand new path though, I noticed how alert I became. More aware. More awake.

Red shutters on the old stone house.  A Christmas tree farm. The hawk perched on an electrical line.

In life, like our weekend road trips, most of us take what feels most comfortable. Whatever is easiest and quickest. We know the turns and what to expect. But when we are forced to take a detour (or at times choose one) everything becomes a bit more vivid. And how often do we look back at life and say ‘thank goodness!’ I was forced to veer into another lane?

By the time we pull up to our destination I am hoping I canfigure out how to take that same route back home on Sunday. Suddenly the thought of I95 is undesirable. I had been asked to travel a new path and realized it was a gift.

What other detours can I take?
SARAH