Looks like a trip to the dentist might be in order

(Piece of) tooth on a tray

There are so many times I wish I could talk to my friend Patricia, aka PJ, my doppelgänger in many ways. Same disease, same cancer center, both mother of three kids, both runners and sometime klutzes, both readers and writers...and both having lost teeth.

And both highly attuned to how ludicrous some serious things could seem.

We could write about such things on our blogs and be sure the other would comment. We talked about who had lost the moth teeth (me) and who had the most falls (probably her).

"I know what you mean," one of us would say, when something crazy came up. We'd compare notes, make a joke, offer support.

It's hard to believe she's been gone since 2014.

PJ, if you're listening, something ridiculous has come up.

I need to go to the dentist in a pandemic. Waaaaaaaa!

To back up, my remaining teeth are a mess. Yes, my remaining teeth. I wrote in a post about chemotherapy and teeth that I lost 12. It's a strange state of affairs when you can't remember how many teeth you have lost. But I think I got it wrong and it is actually 13. My remaining teeth are fragile. The dentist put a patch on a front tooth with a little piece missing. The little patch fell off. He glued it back on. Last week when I was eating a tortilla chip I felt an extra crunch. The little patch (probably not the correct dental term) had come off again.

I looked up whether you can go to the dentist. It depends. Broken teeth is in the category of yes you should go. I haven't made the call. I will do it today, I think. Sometimes the day goes by and I don't know where it went. When it was marked by going to tennis or yoga or Starbucks or my other favorite coffee places, it had more structure. I am trying to give it some structure. I imagine that's a challenge for everyone.

On Mother's Day I had a nice socially distant visit with Katie and Joe. We put chairs out in the driveway, scenically located next to the dumpster, still here because all work on the house has stopped. I noticed when doing yoga in the morning that Katie and my mother were watching me from a frame next to my grandmother's candy jar, on top of my Aunt Gertrude's secretary with the secret drawer.

I got in a good run yesterday between rain showers. The mileage from my phone also includes a few miles of dog walks.

I am trying to be mindful about not doing it every day, out of fear of activating the dreaded plantar fasciitis or hurting my knees. We're lucky to be in an area where you can go for a good run or walk without coming across too many people. The route alongside the river up towards McCray's Farm is beautiful. The birds seem to be louder. I can say hello to The Canoe Club across the river. It's good to see water. I stopped at the bottom of the hill and turned around to go back. McCray's is open, and I thought that if I were to live boldly, I might bring money next time and stop for an ice cream.