The Travails of the Traveling Toilet Seat

I am not a terribly fussy person (I don't think).  And when it comes bathrooms -- toilets, to put it more precisely --

1.  I want it clean
2.  I want it private
3.  I want it not to move.

When we moved into this house, we put new toilets seat on all the toilets, taking care of my first requirement.  And they held up admirably for about ten years. We've been here eleven.

The privacy was a little harder to handle as a previous owner was a stained glass artist who removed two large glass panels in the master bath when she moved.  There is a gaping hole right in front of the toilet, facing a large tub.  If, while seated on the potty,  you lean forward and look  out that "window" to the right, you are able to converse with whomever is in the shower, as they have a similar large opening from the shower to the tub.  But over the last eleven years, Allan and I have managed to keep our privacy.

Now, I also like a stationary toilet seat.  Sometime in 2010, I noticed one night that the seat was loose.  So I mentioned it to Allan, who said he'd fix it. It just needed a nut.   A few months after that, as I sat down one midnight, I swiveled sharply to the left and nearly fell off.  Now the whole bolt was gone.  More mumbling, more midnight promises. 

It wasn't long after that, that when visiting the establishment, I fell right in.  There was no seat all.  Oh, wait.  Yes, there was -- it was leaning against the wall.  Louder, nastier mumbling and a  quick under-the-covers kick.

Now I had the option of going downstairs in the wee hours, or balancing delicately on a very slippery, slide-y seat to wee.  Well, over the next three months, I achieved an incredible sense of balance...before I finally went out and bought a new seat, compete with very lovely and tight bolts.....  Ahhh, heaven.

Except for that whole privacy thing...

**Now some of you may wonder why Allan didn't fix the bolt or why I just didn't do it myself.  Our bedroom is on the second floor, so we usually just use a spare bathroom on the first floor: Until bed time.  Sometime between the hours of midnight and 5 a.m., I would often feel a need to visit the potty.  Due to anatomy, I am the chief "sitter" in the house. I'd sit, spin, stumble back to bed, and mumble to please fix the damn seat.  Of course, we'd forget by the time the alarm went off.

No Casseroles, Please....

It seems a little odd (even to me) to be writing of epitaphs on Jessica's birthday.  But I actually was thinking about her turning 20 (shitting!) and somehow that led me into thinking of epitaphs.  Epitaphs are a source of amusement and conversation among us as we struggle to come up with the one that we think will sum up our respective lives.

Mine:

1. "Still vacuuming with no bag attached" (voter favorite)
2. "Dogs liked her."
3. "If there's no God, who's laughing at us?" (okay. not really an epitaph, but still a great quote)

Diane:  "Back in 5 minutes" (after 20-plus years as a sole proprietor, even she needed to pee)

Stewie:  "Stewie's dead. Quick. Good things are going fast. No casseroles, please." (yeah, none of us really get it.  That's more like a funereal notice than something to carve on a headstone, but what the hell!)

Tab: "Bon Vivant"

Matt "Always"

Jess:

1. "Took no prisoners."
2. "Never looked back" (it was a sign of weakness)
3. "Wore pants and took a helmet."

Allan:  "HERO" (of course)

Larry hasn't weighed in this; mostly, I think, because it's a girlie-weekend kind of thing when it comes up, usually right after we exfoliate.  He probably needs to though.  Otherwise, we'll come up with one for him.

Then I started thinking about what epitaphs or one-liners I would choose for some of those who are or have been near-and-dear to me. Some are from songs. Some are from the Bible.  Some I don't know where they came from...

Mom -- "My Ride is Here" a Warren Zevon songs from the last albun, which leads into...
Dad's potential epitaph:  "ENJOYED EVERY SANDWICH!" (more than once, as well as his weight in Tums)
Woolee's -- "I'll be the greatest fan of your life" (and he was)
Grace: "Perfect." ('nuf said)
Maria: "and then she died very old and full of years"
Toby: "What Dog?" (also a runnerup for Dad's headstone)
Annie: "None Better" (and there wasn't)
Thomas  "No mas, Thomas"

And I can't forget Bonnie: "Perfectly Bitchy. Bitchily Perfect."



Aww....

Bowling with Bullets.

Tomorrow is my last class of "Firearm Safety."  It's a class held at the San Diego Police Department gun range and taught by retired cops.   Every Tuesday for the last 10 weeks, Teri Corle and I have gone "bowling" -- bowling with bullets, that is!  We've talked about taking this class for a couple of years and finally we are.  After two classes of theory, they sent us out to the range to learn to shoot...

Teri is shooting this --

--a standard police-issue 38 revolver.

I am shooting this --

-- a 9 mm Glock that Allan has.

While I have become a lot more comfortable handling the gun, I wish I was more accurate at the target.  My highest score so far is a 50.  I think Teri has shot close to 80.   Of course, I can't even see my shots on the damn target.. HEY!...before anyone says anything: Could you see a half inch bullet hole at 75 yards? 

Okay, then.  'Nuf said.

Next on my bucket list is learning to play the drums.  I think I'll ask Marigold if she wants to join me on that adventure.

Denise Tries Technology

It's Labor Day weekend and instead of sticking around the house, I flew to Indiana to judge a goat show. Left on Friday, returning Sunday (today). On this particular trip, I decided to embrace the technology the rest of the world has been using for quite some time.

I opened the Garmin I received for Christmas '09 and took it with me. I have found that -- oddly enough -- not very many goat shows are held in cities, so I often find myself driving from an airport to some rural location on dark roads. I mean dark roads -- with no 7-11s in sight, nowhere but a farmhouse to stop and ask directions. I hate Mapquest. After it sent me yet again to the wrong place -- this time to a closed fishing camp somewhere in Michigan -- I asked for a Garmin for Christmas.

I have a reputation in the family for being a bad driver. It's true that I am unable to drive without twitching, talking on the cell (or worse, texting!), drinking, changing the radio station, looking under the seat for something I dropped, etc, thus making it appear that I am not paying attention to the road. Way back when when I had my driver's permit and was driving with my dad one day, he counted something like 100 times that I moved, scratched, shifted in my seat, or played with my hair in a 30-minute drive. (that's only three movements per minute. sheesh)

So even though I can parallel park my three-horse trailer and routinely back the same trailer a block-and-a-half down the street to turn it around; because of my twitchiness, my family thinks I'm a horrid driver. Then, why did they think it was a good idea to give me something else to fart around with in the car?

Okay. So I took the Garmin to Indiana. But I also took a map, and then stopped and asked directions on my to the show Friday night. But this morning, I was feeling pretty confident with my chatty little friend on the dashboard; and even when the freeway signs told me that the airport exit was 4 miles away, I believed Garmin and followed its directions to nowhere.

What happened, Garmin? When they moved the Indianapolis International Airport TWO YEARS AGO, did they forget to tell you?


(ps and then, to fully embrace more technology,  I bought a netbook at Walmart. I'm typing as I flying. How cool is that?)

(pps because I discovered a 17" laptop is not very easy to travel with)

(ppps don't tell Allan)

Random Thoughts and/or Moments that Make You Go Huh. #1

So I was driving home from Dorian's last night and when the traffic report came on, I changed the channel.  Unbelievable.  After years of commuting and living by the radio' s report, I suddenly realized that it doesn't matter anymore.  There is nowhere I go routinely that is impacted by the hideous SoCal traffic.  Ahhh, bliss....

%^%^%^%^%^

A couple of years' ago, Liz and I went to the tradeshow in Denver.  When we got to the hotel that night and Liz called home to check in, Jimmy asked: "Why'd you take my toothbrush, Liz?"  Ewww, just ewww.

^%^%^%^%^%^

Dad never, ever cursed.  He used to say, "For crying n a bucket," or "Hell's Bells."  One of his favorite sayings, however, is "Stop when you hear glass breaking and smell sh***t."  I don't really get that one.

^%^%^%^%^%^

I had an epiphany the other day.  It seems like every time I try to buy glasses, they're always a little tweaked.  So I was in Kohl's and trying on sunglasses, when I finally realized:  maybe the problem isn't the glasses at all -- maybe my ears are crooked.

%^%^%^%^%^

I might actually be the laziest person on earth when it comes to food.  Truly.  I'll dump milk on oatmeal and eat it cold before I'd microwave it.  When Allan's out of town, I drink the same pot of coffee all week, 'cuz I'm too lazy to make new.  When Allan is in town, I walk down to the kitchen, pour enough milk in my coffee so I can stand at the sink and chug it.  I don't want to have to remember to bring the mug back down to the kitchen.  Hmm, I wonder if there is something deficient in my mental health.

JCA does PR

Jess is in Puerto Rico.  She and Kelsey, her friend from the equestrian team at Rutgers, flew down to spend 10 days hanging out with a family friend.  I think Jess may be the luckiest little turd on earth.  This was her email to Allan and me this morning.....


"Hola mami y papi,



Puerto Rico is wonderful. I'll write you a long email since I haven't gotten to talk much in detail about things here.


For starters, we landed in Aguadilla at 12:45 on Tuesday morning and met Pablo the Puerto Rican and were picked up by Francis. It was only a 40 minute drive or so to Fran's house is Cabo Rojo. We stayed at his house that night, woke up the next morning and ate breakfast made by his mom (fritadas and home-made tortillas) and then loaded the car up to go to his camper at the beach.


Let me tell you a few things about this camper. It's a one bedroom, although I would just call it a one-room, with a bathroom (with shower) that is about the size of our closet in the foyer. I'm not exaggerating. Outside, there's a patio/sitting area that's divided in half by folding doors that opens to a semi-outdoor kitchen. The camper is also in Cabo Rojo (five minutes from Francis' house) on Buye Beach (Playa Buye). It has three beds, one of which is a bunk bed, and yes the three of us sleep in there. I know he has cooties, but I haven't gotten itchy yet.


Last night Francis had three of his friends over, Pedro, Phillip y Laura. (It's not Laura, it's LOWra -- naturally.) I taught them how to play the card games golf and spoons, which they loved, and they taught us some Spanish. Pedro is thinking about going to Rutgers for a baseball scholarship, so atleast now he knows us.


This morning we slept until 10, woke up to find out we had no water for some reason, so we went kayaking to a cayo (small island). We figure salt water is better than no water for a shower. Tomorrow we're going to Old San Juan, doing some really tourist-y things, and on Friday we're going to a river that's in the middle of the island to jump off cliffs and swim! I'm so excited! After that, we're going to check out caves around the island and on Sunday or Monday we're going ziplining somewhere. It's allegedly the longest one in the world, but I guess we'll see.


Phillip is supposed to take us out on his boat one of these days, and we're also supposed to go to a discotec one of these nights. And Pedro taught me how to do the merengue, because Kelsey was too embarrassed to dance, but you know me. I don't mind making a fool of myself much.


Funny story: when I practice my Spanish with Francis and his friends, they tell me I sound like a Mexican and have a Mexican accent. Gee, I wonder why? Turns out I apparently know a lot of Mexican slang, and they just laugh at me.






Anywho, that's about all I have to tell as of now. Seems like a lot since it's only my third day here! I'll email you when we have a signal. I'm having a ton of fun, but I miss home! I love you guys!






- su hija


p.s. Mom, Francis says there are no lifeguards here... I wore a vest when we kayaked though, just to make you feel better."

God, I love my kids!  They are awesome!  They crack me up.

(ps "Pablo the Puerto Rican" is a Border Patrol agent that Allan knows who's stationed in PR.  Allan called in a favor and had Pablo meet the girls and check everything out.  Pablo will be on high alert for the rest of the week. Sometimes it pays to sleep with a drug cop!)