Of course, the "dental adhesive" didn't last, and I'm left with a hunk of 28-year-old molar-shaped gold and a jagged gap in the back of my skull. I was telling my co-workers about this little adventure today and E. said this:
"My hygienist is the funniest hygienist ever. She used to do forensic dentistry, and she can tell what part of the country you come from by your fillings."
"Of course, that was a while ago, when I had dental insurance for a hot minute. It's been a while since I've been to the dentist."
I had one of those hot minutes myself, ten years ago, and the luxury of dentistry was mine for a short time. Not so much now. Last time I was in, the doc said he could only glue this crown back on one more time. Not enough tooth left, nothing to anchor. (Which might account for my repair failure.) An implant is a fantasy at this point, so I'm looking at extraction. Ain't that swell.
But enough of that. Our two divine employees at the Glass Factory are both leaving at the end of June, off to greater adventures. I've been in mourning over this, not only that we're losing two wonderful workers but we're losing two marvelous, radiant individuals who have graced us with their presences this past year. It's been a gift to sit beside each of them and listen as their life stories have unfolded during the long hours at the big table. I'm a better person for it, and my own imagination has expanded in ways I never thought possible. I am reminded, again, at how much there is to learn from the people in our lives.
M. posted a Craig's List ad for replacements, and had over 60 responses. Phew! Most applicants were crazily over-qualified, including someone whose resumé listed "Creative Director for Polo Ralph Lauren, New York." Why in hell does this person want to work with us?
But it looks as if we may have struck gold — again— if that's possible, with the two new hirees. I spent all yesterday and today training, or rather, teaching from the ground up, and it's going well. Fingers crossed. The learning curve is steep.