Sylvia's Journal

The upgrade did not materialize but, at the arrival hall of Logan airport my husband did, as did the wonderful weather and greenery of New England that makes late spring such a wonderful time here, and not such a good time to spend in the Sahel.

During my last week of employ I took care of my looks:  a haircut and teeth cleaning, making myself presentable for my goodbye party on Thursday.

Tessa had been on my case for some weeks now to make reservations for a restaurant to mark the end of my career at MSH – a career that marked pretty much her entire life, most of Sita’s and three quarters of my life with Axel. I invited all three to the party – after all, my salary paid for their education and allowed other things that would not have been possible without MSH. We all are what and where we are for a great deal because of MSH.

I had not taken her exhortations to make up my mind of where to eat very seriously. I am used to make last minute reservations – for two in the area we live in it usually works just fine. But Tessa knows better about Boston and wanting a table for 5.  Tessa is the ultimate millennial when it comes to places to eat – she checks out the websites, triangulates and then makes a triage – she did this so well in New Orleans that she is now my go to person for restaurants outside Cape Ann. When I finally made up my mind, a week before the date of the desired reservation, none of her selections had room for us. In one case no reservations would be taken till July. I was chided for my carelessness with the familiar eyerolling sigh of “mohommm!”  She came up with a new batch of restaurants and this time I was decisive. She got us a table online instantaneously – it will be a celebratory dinner with no regard for cost – making a first dent into my severance package.

Today it was teeth cleaning day. It is not usually a topic I describe in my blog because it is not interesting, but today it was. My dental hygienist greeted me with great enthusiasm – her sister’s name was Sylvia, though written like this Szilvia. I guessed, based on how her name was embroidered on her smock (Krysztina) that she was Tsech or Hungarian. Yes, the latter. She spoke with a strong accent and before I knew it, encouraged by my questions, I learned about her journey as a high school grad from Hungary to being a dental hygienist in Beverly MA, with a first stopover in England in the early 90s, when such a thing was not as common as it is now thanks to the Euro zone.

When she learned about my travels she wanted to know if I had learned to travel light (I do and she doesn’t). She interrogated me like a detective to get my secrets (how many outfits, shoes? And what about layers?).

It’s hard to respond to such a barrage of questions when you are in a dentist chair. For one, there is stuff in your mouth, but I also didn’t hear her questions very well. There are all the different noises a dentist office produces, my hearing is no longer what it used to be and then there was her accent. At one point she asked me (I thought) how often I fly. I said about 9 times a year. But what she had really asked me how often I flossed and was rather nonplussed at my answer. “Huhh, 9 times a year? I have never heard anyone say that before.” We soon cleared up the confusion and had a good laugh. I think she will probably remember that I floss 9 times a year. I used to do it only twice a year, just before and just after my dentist visit; nine times would have been pretty good, about once every 6 weeks.