Teeth & Beauty Products

I was at Cinema Secrets yesterday at lunch picking up some mousse for my husband, conditioner for myself and a bottle of makeup brush cleaner after overhearing the sales girl pitching it to an eager buyer.

I was standing at the register grappling with my debit card when a piece of folded up paper appeared in the center portion of my tri-fold pink camoflauge wallet. I opened it without a thought and "clack clack" something fell out of it and onto the floor.

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November 4 of last year.
Darrin worked hard and long on Chicken Little, and we flew out to Nebraska so that we could watch it with his folks on opening day, then again with the rest of his friends and family the following day. Nobody is in show business in Nebraska. NOBODY. And nobody knows anyone who is involved in show business so I mean to tell you Darrin was a local celebrity, and I was a lucky Hollywood Wife. Darrin was on the radio, spoke at his elementary school, talked to the kids at the YMCA, was featured on the evening news (right after the turkey hunting report) and was on the front page of the newspaper. I kid you not, the man was a king.

My wonderful parents-in-law took us to the local theater where the movie was playing. My mother-in-law was fit to be tied because of the two theaters in Kearney Nebraska, Chicken Little was playing at "the crappy one."

The sound was waaaay low. I mean low to the point of being afraid to laugh at jokes because you'd miss the next line of dialogue, and the sound effects weren't as effective either as a result. Darrin suggested to the proprieter that he turn the volume up the following evening because we would be selling the theater out; and Darrin's Grandpa Gene is extremely hard of hearing. "Just have him turn up his hearing aid" was the old fart's response.

So we're sitting and waiting for the film to start. I'm so happy for Darrin; and his folks are positively fluffed up with pride for their bigtime son the animator. His Dad springs for a huge tub of popcorn to tide us over until we can get to the Red Lobster after the movie, and we chit chat about the fun events still to come. I take a nice sized handful of buttery goodness and as I'm chewing - UH OH. Something's wrong. Have I bitten down on a granny seed? What is this in my mouth now? Why do I feel a sharp cutting sensation on the back part of my left cheek? It all adds up to something horrifying - and right before the opening credits.

I turn to my family who are all smiles and leaning back in their old timey theater seats enjoying a behind the scenes movie story from Darrin. "Something really bad just happened." I say with my hand in front of my mouth. They turn their collective gaze toward me "What?"
"A big piece of my tooth just cracked off in my mouth."

Not to worry! My tiny mother-in-law has a solution. She figures if Darrin agrees to draw pictures and sign autographs for her dentist's kids, then surely she will come in tomorrow morning (a Saturday mind you) to fix her daughter-in-law's broken tooth. Then my father-in-law says that his dentist has a father and son practice, and bets either one of them would be willing to come in on a Saturday. Each is confident that they have more pull with their dentist(s) and take it on as a competition.

I sort the piece of tooth out from the popcorn that's in my mouth and fold it up into the order form page of my checkbook and tuck it into the middle compartment of my wallet. I assure them that I'll be fine to sit and enjoy the movie and I do. I even kill an entire Ultimate Feast at the Red Lobster afterwards (chewing on my right side only of course).

The next morning my father-in-law scores an appointment with the son portion of the father and son dentists, and he meets us at the office first thing with his pretty wife. While the nice dentist assesses the situation in my mouth, there's lots of chat with Darrin about his being a famous Nebraskan, and my mother-in-law chimes in every so often to add to his list of accomplishments and make sure that the dentist has seen the front page of the paper. Seen the news? Listened to the radio?

I show the dentist the piece of the tooth and much to all of our surprise, it's a piece of a crown, not an actual tooth. He files down the offending sharp edge so that it no longer irritates my cheek, enabling me to go on with the press tour without worry and just deal with a new crown when I get home. He didn't charge us, and we invited him to that evening's big post movie reception and autograph signing. Mom asks him if he'd like Darrin to send him an autographed still from Chicken Little for his wall of famous Nebraskans when we get back home to California. Of course he wants one.

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I hadn't thought about that tooth in a long time. And I wasn't sure what to do while standing at Cinema Secrets, hearing that piece clack onto the ivory tiled floor. The gal behind the counter was asking me to sign the receipt and there I was; holding the store's pen in one hand, the empty crown bindle in the other while frantically searching the floor with my eyes. Something inside me wanted to hold onto that little souvenir for some reason. It wasn't because I wanted to have it put back in my mouth; no, that wasn't even possible. It was sort of gross really, I didn't want to show it to people either.

I think I just wanted to hold onto even just a piece from the crown I wore during that week. The week I spent as the queen wife of the Nebraska boy who made good.