"Teeth 2"

I found a complete bird skeleton this week which I decapitated, sanitized, and added to my natural history display in my office.  I was pleased that the skull still had its lower jaw and noticed the way the lower jaw fits into the upper is the same knob and socket arrangement as mammals.  Its pelvis was very different than a mammal, but I didn't keep that part.  Cleaning the tiny, fragile skull bones was a delicate effort and I carefully placed it next to the last skull and stood back to admire my collection.

There's a lot of traffic in my office, but I'm almost certain that nobody notices this shelf on the bookcase.  The other offices at work are filled with pictures of grandchildren, or world travel, or religious images (since I work for Religion).  I got an ad with a nice reproduction of a Saint Luke painting and framed it.  People noticed that, but didn't see the new skull. 

 Paula Kuitenbrouwer sent me a postcard with Mandarin Ducks and Sharon Wagner sent me a pink flower.  These are on the bulletin board and people pause and admire their art without looking slightly left to bird skulls, feathers, eggs, and nests.  Maybe they are just polite and not pointing out the macabre? Flowers and living birds are clearly prettier than bones.

All of my natural history items came from the garden at work.  I make a point of going to the garden for a few minutes (in every kind of weather) at least twice a day to clear my mind of numbers and people.  It keeps me sane and centered.

As much as things change, some things stay the same.  When I was a child romping alone in the woods, I spent a lot of time examining animal anatomy because the world is littered with bones if you stop to look.  You'd think this would make me a good biology student, but I was completely icked out by formaldehyde and intestines -- which wasn't helped by flirtatious boys leaving dead things on my seat or down the back of my shirt.  Boys can really learn a lot about better flirtations, and I didn't even understand this was flirtation.  I was mad at stupid/mean boys.  One of them explained his flirting to me many years after the fact.  It's a wonder our species survives.

Okay, songbirds don't have teeth, but illustrationfriday.com didn't give me a new word for the week so we're even.  I posted this bird skull art a couple years ago too, so I'll admit to taking shortcuts this week.  Sis1 is visiting from out of state, and I've been trying to make the most of her visit.

The new guy started at work and as I expected, he seems perfectly fine and friendly despite my pre-arrival anxiety.  Change may be good in the end, but the unknown of it stirs things up.  I went to the river after work one day and felt more peaceful because as much as things change, some things are the same.  I'm calmed by the river and the things that live in it.  Minnows tickled my toes, I picked up stones, and I studied a bird skeleton.  I could've been 5 again, especially with sisters around who remember me then.

"Teeth"

In 2nd grade, the teacher asked us the proper method for brushing our teeth.  Hands shot into the air and she picked X, who proudly demonstrated little circles.  Wrong!  I knew the proper answer of brushing from the gum to the end of the tooth, but I didn't put my hand up.  I almost never did.  I got picked as default too often as it was.

X had perfect little teeth.  The plaid pocket of his perfectly pressed shirt matched the shirt pattern exactly, his perfectly shined shoes complementing his pressed pants.  His hair was cut professionally and always combed neatly.  I hated him.  This was made harder by the fact that he was smart, polite, eager to help, and just terribly nice.  I kept my bad feelings to myself and we often played together pleasantly on the playground.

I was ashamed of myself.  Even at 6 years old, I knew I was wrong and probably going to hell.  I glared at my girl scout uniform with 100 buttons and ironed it hatefully, knowing boys didn't have as many buttons and X's mom did all of his ironing (with starch!).  Life was unfair, and X symbolized every unfairness.

He's had a nice life.  Of course he has.  That's why I put so much energy into hating him.  He started with everything to ensure that kind of success -- which I honestly don't begrudge him.  Nice people should have nice lives.

A few years ago, a child confessed her jealousies to me.  I was all adult and sympathetic and gave her my best advice to improve her situation with her peers and within her mind.  Afterwards, I felt like laughing at my own childhood jealousy.  It all seemed so important at the time, but it really wasn't.  Whatever X had or has in his life has nothing to do with my path in life, and jealousy is such a waste of energy.

I wish I had better teeth, but wishing for that doesn't mean cavities in X's teeth would my life better.  Another friend lost all her teeth.  That doesn't make my life any better either.

We live in a world that keeps telling us to look at what other people have instead of looking within.  The underlying message is that we should be envious enough to get whatever they've got.  The overt message we get is that jealousy is an ugly emotion and we should all stuff that inside so we don't make anyone else uncomfortable.  Either way, the message in our society is to focus on other people to achieve our own happiness.  You know that's never going to work.

We've all felt jealousy, and once in a while I still get a hot stab of it about something.  I'll never claim that I've mastered everything with a higher intent.  I try to do the best with what I have and find my happiness within my abilities to gain it.  I wish all of us that kind of cavity-free happiness, especially all the children who face feelings for the first time.

Sometimes I think the secret to happiness is simply choosing to be happy, or just finding contentment wherever you are.

Wishing a merry 4th to everyone!