Spud Heaven

Photo by Rebeca G. Sendroiu on Unsplash

…and no, I do not refer to a narrow spade for cutting the roots of plants and weeds.

Rather, it’s the lovely potato that I refer to. The deliciously starchy root vegetable that I once proclaimed–as any silly five year-old might–I would marry because I loved it so much.

So…six days ago I had to have a tooth extracted (a molar…number 31, to be precise). No…not the best thing to have to do in any circumstance, for sure, but even less so during a pandemic. I have to say the oral surgeon’s office was excruciatingly thorough in following Coronavirus safety protocols. I couldn’t get into the building without answering basic questions on my health and travel status (travel? Are you kidding me?) and my temperature was taken with a nifty digital thermometer that simply hovered over my forehead. Every office staff member was masked and someone was wiping down every counter, pen, chair and magazine stand literally every ten minutes. It was so exhaustive that I was surprised that the staff weren’t attired in hazmat suits.

Two hours later, the extraction complete–which included a bone graft (a synthetic material packed into the extraction site) as the first step in preparation for a dental implant–I was on my way home. I exited the building, out into the bright sunshine and crisp-cool breeze, with the right side of my mouth packed in gauze. My cheek was already beginning to swell significantly, and my head was pounding but I was so thankful to have that “little” ordeal over with. After a stop at the pharmacy for pain medication (which seemed to take forever) we were homeward bound. Once there, I plopped myself into my favorite chair and welcomed The Poodle who remained in my lap for hours until throbbing pain forced me to get up and take a pain pill. Still, I was happy to read, finishing Lisa Wingate’s emotional story based on true events Before We Were Yours and then starting former U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Nikki Haley’s book: With All Due Respect…and even happier dozing with the warmth of my poodle-love curled in my lap.

It would be close to eight o’clock in the evening before I felt the first pangs of hunger. I hadn’t eaten anything in twenty-four hours.

“Do you want chocolate ice-cream or mashed potatoes?” asked my husband.

I’ll try the potatoes was my reply.

Not even ten minutes later I was presented with a small bowl of Bob Evans garlic mashed potatoes. I ate those first small spoonfuls in a painfully slow and hesitant manner as the swelling (despite icing the area) was still significant. But, Oh My God dear reader, let me just say….

…those spoonfuls sent me straight to heaven.

“God these potatoes are amazing” I said groaning with pleasure. I could eat this for the rest of my life and be happy.

And indeed, for four days straight, following the soft food regimen necessary after oral surgery, I ate heaping bowlfuls of Bob Evans mashed potatoes. Loaded, garlic mashed….sour cream and chives mashed….or just plain mashed….

I was…and still am…in spud heaven.

If you’re looking for something new to soothe your soul during this pandemic, I highly recommend going face down in mashed potatoes.

Bliss out my friends ❤️