Joe Mauer

***Oh I love this photo, I get so excited when it pops up as my desktop photo. (And sorry, City of Minneapolis, Bernie did not have a city license to play in your lovely Minnehaha Dog Park. Ha ha.)***

I've always been good about going to the dentist, you know, the every six-month thing. This is good because it is good and because I still have the tendency to put things in my mouth that technically you aren't supposed to put in your mouth. I had a dentist in Tahoe whose office was right on the lake, I mean primo--is that how you spell that?--land, you're sitting in the chair on the second or third floor, the lake in front of you. All water, it was like you were suspended over the lake. And I remembered sitting in that chair one time thinking, This is kind of cool, a world away from home, sitting in this bizarro setting for a dentist's office--right over the lake, like I am some sort of VIP dental patient.

Then there was Sacramento. I moved there on a whim, almost, knew nothing or no one, and at some point I had to find a dentist. So I did, somehow, no office over a lake at this dentist. It took the like five minutes to do the whole teeth cleaning thing. I was used to a half hour, maybe an hour. You sit, they look, they clean, they polish, and in between you spit a lot. Not Sacramento dentist, though. He looked, I think he flossed, then he said, "You're good to go." That was the only time I went to the dentist in Sacramento. I was there two years, so I guess I missed out on a couple cleanings.

Here in St. Paul, my dentist is four blocks from my house, so I walk there. I wish I lived somewhere I could walk about everywhere. I went to New York City last week, would be great to walk and ride a bike there all the time. Anyway, my hygienist here is from St. Petersburg, Russia. Her name is Nona. About five years ago, I was walking to my appointment, and my cell phone rang. It was this Eastern European accent talking. She said, "Is this Chad?" I said, "Yes." Terminator feminina said, "You are late." Apparently, my appointment was at one and I thought it was at 1:15. I'd never met Nona at that time, and I was scared. I thought she was going to chisel my mouth like Vladimir Tretiak would chisel my ankles if I was standing in his goal crease. Anyway, Nona is a gem, is still my hygienist. We have a great time every six months.

On to Joe Mauer. From time to time, you meet someone here who knows/knew Joe from childhood--he's from St. Paul, you know--and they have a good story about Joe. So a friend today told me a story from this past fall. Joe was hosting a mutual friend of his and my friend's roommate's bachelor party at his cabin up north this fall. So Mr. MVP all-everything baseball player was somehow put in charge of making all the arrangements for this bachelor weekend. So my friend's roomie gets this message on his cell phone, "Hey (whatever the guy's name is), this is Joe Mauer. I'm trying to make plans for the bachelor weekend and need to ask you a couple things."

So yeah, that's Joe Mauer, the guy who shows up with the Silver Bat and hits the tar out of the ball day in and day out, taking care of the nuts and bolts of a bachelor party weekend for a boyhood Minnesota buddy. That should answer the question of, Will he stay in Minnesota?

Uh, yeah.