I managed to eat some canned peaches by using my tongue to smash them against my upper teeth until I could swallow. Oh man. You guys. Semi-solid food. I’m not sure you understand what a triumph this represents. I’m so proud.

Extraction appointment tomorrow. I feel like… I feel like the night before Halloween, back when my dad used to stay up all night making costumes for me. The costumes were always great – Dad doesn’t really know how to separate puppetry from the other aspects of his life, so the outfits often involved moving parts. I could flap my wings as a dragonfly and swish my tail* as a mouse. I knew I’d get to put on my costume in the morning and wear it to the parade at school and they’d play Monster Mash and the Ghostbusters theme song over the speakers and sometimes the older kids would give us candy. And Mrs. Flynn would wear her billowy cloak and read ghost stories. And I’d get to feel all smug because even though my classmates were rich and I was poor, most of them had lame storebought costumes and I had handmade awesomeness. It was hard to sleep the night before Halloween, but I knew I should because then the day would come sooner.
Yeah.
I feel like that.
Only for oral surgery.

Oh, and I seem to have picked up another hitchhiker. See, I only own one pair of everyday shoes. I got them at a garage sale for 50 cents and they’re somewhat worn. A few weeks ago, I noticed a rattling in my left shoe – turns out the bit of sole under the heel is hollow, and the bottom has warn away to a small flap covering the hollow space.
I’ve got a compartment in my shoe, and the compartment has a door.

The rattling a few weeks ago came from a smooth white pebble that worked its way into the compartment. Sometimes the sound of the pebble annoyed me, but I liked the idea of a nomadic rock enough to overcome my annoyance. That little guy traveled pretty far for a pebble. It accompanied me from one home to another. It crossed state lines. It hid in the bushes with me and climbed ladders and stairs and trees.

I eventually left it in the fountain outside the hotel in Indianapolis. I’d removed the pebble from my shoe to show Grace, and I dropped it accidentally. It made a “sploosh!” sound when it hit the water.
I don’t blame it – the day was hot, and the water was clear and blue and contained occasional birds. The fountain should provide new opportunities for adventure, and I always knew the pebble would leave eventually. Hitchhikers and nomads can’t stay for too long without losing some of their essential nature.

My shoe was a little lonely, though. Hollow sole.
But I was climbing the fence to get to the dentist today and when I hit the ground I felt a popping sensation under my foot. I took a step.
Rattle rattle.
I took another.
Rattle.

My hitchhiker is gray this time, and smaller than the last one. I hope I give it a good ride.
I could also use some new shoes.

* Speaking of moving tails, this lady is my hero. Or, well, she’s my hero who isn’t Mary Willcocks. If I’ve ever given you a reading with my not-tarot deck and you got the Zamweasel card, that’s who I’m talking about.