Amy’s Gripping Commentary

(One of my favorite movie quotes)

This post will be gross. But before it gets gross (you can read the first part KNH), some of you will recall that Nicole and I stash a Support Our Troops yellow ribbon magnet on each other’s cars to embarrass the other in front of other drivers (we find the magnets silly). My latest application was to her mailbox, which she kept forgetting to remove since she only saw it when she left the driveway in her car. But her husband took over and redecorated with Ainsley as model:

Now we really can’t put it on each other’s cars because, well, someone might think we were calling the troops poopieheads and involve us in a road rage incident, and I’ve had enough of that this week. (BTW, David uses that term a lot, and I just verified that is his preferred spelling.) (I love the word antecedent and I hope everyone understood mine in that last note.)

Shortly after the appearance of Support Our Poops, David and I had an argument about poop, and we have relatively frequent discussions about poop, and then I saw a funny and informative blog post about poop. Plus, I am CONSTANTLY talking about rabbit poop with other bunny folks because it’s an incredibly useful way to assess their health. So naturally, it became a blog topic. (Those easily grossed out should go away now. It’s not that bad, and I won’t post any photos from my bathroom or anything, but I know some folks really hate bodily excretion discussions.)

Poop discussions
David describes his bathroom activities to me in relative detail, and I know all about his elaborate preparations with coffee and his after-pooping habits (which I will not go into here, but there are products involved). I generally do not share my pooping details (nor do I fart purposely and musically in his presence, which seems to be exclusively a guy thing), but I do have a sympathetic ear on the occasions when I am not feeling well and my bathroom habits have been a little off.

Also, yesterday David sang Poop-a-Jacques to the tune of Frère Jacques. He gets really excited about pooping, I’m telling you.

Poop argument
I never had a toilet bowl problem at my old house, but now seem to at David’s. My theory is that all my toilets at my house are round bowls, and therefore the water is deeper and closer to the front of the bowl. David’s toilet, which he chose when he gutted the bathroom and did not ask my opinion on toilet shape, which is definitely a preference for round bowls, is oval, and so more exposed bowl is at the front, and the water is toward the back. So now when I have my perfect vegetarian poop each day (more on vegetarian poop and what makes it perfect below), it sometimes hits drier areas of the oval bowl. Most times it does not, but the point here is that David insists I scrub the toilet bowl of any evidence immediately following dropping the kids (usually just kid in my case) off at the pool. This is to be done with a toilet brush that sits in a stainless steel thingie next to the commode.

This request totally grossed me out. First of all, the guy doesn’t own toilet cleaner. He just keeps scrubbing until visually clean and that’s it. So I know the toilet brush is disgusting, even though it doesn’t appear that way and even though every toilet brush is disgusting. It’s just that the ones that did their scrubbing in Sno-Bol or Soft Scrub or Lysol Gel or what have you seem less gross upon re-use.

Secondly, if you let the offending smear (ok, that was kinda gross) sit for, say, ten minutes, the next flush will take away the evidence. It’s like soaking a dish in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher. But he didn’t want to see my evidence (and I guess I can understand that), while I would rather wait ten minutes and try the hands-off approach. Meanwhile, if his toilet bowl were rounder, all my perfect number fours would hit deeply and I doubt I’d ever have to scrub.

Perfect number four poop
I really can’t do this discussion justice after the previously-mentioned excellent post at A Veg*n for Dinner, but I would like to use the Bristol Poo Chart, which I didn’t know existed until she introduced it:

The idea is that a vegetarian diet, full of fiber and veggies and lacking constipating meat, generally results in perfect number four poops, and such poops should be the goal. Apparently we can tell a lot about a person’s health by looking at their poop, in the same way I assess rabbits, but the main difference is that a rabbit creates something like 300 pellets (or “data points”) a day and I generally produce one or two. It’s much faster to jump to statistically significant conclusions with rabbit poop (or fecal pellets, not to be confused with cecotropes, and frankly I can go on all day about rabbit poop. Should you want to know more, check out Rabbit References).

My latest news from the bathroom is that while I was pooping last night, a tornado came through town, and I had to rush downstairs with the animals. This led to another argument about the toilet needing scrubbing but I figured a tornado was a pretty good excuse.

And then Casper went outside and ate some poopsicles.

Yesterday, on the way back from the gym, I was going through a yellow light at a major intersection and another car came through in the lane next to me, blowing his horn (a silly, wimpy horn I might add…I think one of the tones wasn’t working). Since the light would have been red by the time he drove through, I thought maybe he was just sounding the horn to keep people from hitting him or maybe he was on the way to the hospital or something.

So this very crappy Toyota Tercel (it only said RC on the back because the other letters had fallen off) went on ahead, and changed lanes a few times, but came to drive a relatively normal speed and stopped at lights he could have run on yellow. I didn’t think much about it, until the lanes were decreasing to one at a stoplight. I stayed in my lane, which would be ending after the light, and decided to get ahead of this Tercel on my left. Operating on the same theory that my car goes faster than a semi so it makes sense to get in front of them, I knew this taped-together car wouldn’t be able to keep up with my turbo, but I wasn’t in a race or anything!

Well, this guy was pissed. As I pulled ahead in the intersection, he laid on the horn, and kept sounding it for quite awhile. Of course by this time I was WAY ahead of him because his car just couldn’t keep up, but I could see him pounding his fists in the air. I’m sure he would have tailgated me but his car wasn’t fast enough! So I get to the next stoplight, and happen to be first in line there in the single through lane. He eventually gets there and whips around through the left turn lane and pulls his car diagonally in front of mine in the intersection, flipping me off and yelling and waving his fists. I shook my head in the old “geez, if it matters to you so much, you go right on ahead” manner. I wasn’t in a hurry and he could drive his crappy Tercel in front of me if he needed to so badly.

So now the light turns green and he goes ahead, but he drives r e a l l y s l o w l y to try to make me mad. This goes on for awhile (I made no gestures or other contact with this guy who was still shaking his fists in his rearview and watching me), and then when we get more driving lanes, he drives down the middle of both so I can’t get around (I wasn’t even trying…I figured he was too big an ass to worry about it). I’m still getting the flip-offs the whole way. Then we come to railroad tracks and he slows down, which is normal because those tracks are very rough. But he gets to the top and stops his car completely, flipping me off and making jerk-off motions in the rearview and just really being the biggest ass I’ve ever met in a car!

At the next light, there is another lane and then it ends again, so he slowed down to see if I would try to get in the other lane (I assume so he could dash over and cut me off?). I stayed behind the idiot, who is still turning around to look at me and flip me off, and another car gets in that new lane to the right of him. He scoots way out in the intersection to keep her from going past once the light changes, but she was just turning right. I had considered getting in that lane and waving and smiling to him with a “Have a nice day!” kill-em-with-kindness move, and then turn and go another way, but frankly I was afraid he or his passenger would get out and kick my car or worse. This guy was nuts.

As we go forward again and he’s driving really slowly again to make me mad, and still making rude gestures, I jump off at a different street that he has passed and decide to go another way. I was within a few blocks of home and didn’t really want him to know where I lived! So, take note: if you see a white POS Tercel with most of the letters gone and an IN plate starting with 97, call him in for impaired driving. That’s what I should have done.

Notes: I should have taken a picture or video of this guy. I think I was so amazed at how ridiculous he was that I forgot my camera was right there. Also, I looked online for photo or video of the annoying flair waiter in Office Space because this whole thing reminded me of his double-flip-off, only that seemed funnier…

This baby bunny was born in our rescue at the end of December. Here he’s a month old:

KNH [10:08 AM]:
You smell like hay
KNH [10:10 AM]:
It’s a good smell, at least!
KNH [10:10 AM]:
I didn’t say you smelled like litter

I had a local Indianapolis Star newspaper subscription for several years (starting with a deal, of course), and read the front of every section that wasn’t Sports or Fashion or something equally useless. Then it all went in the litterboxes. But once the price became $17 a month and I was so busy that weeks of it would be in piles, waiting for me to skim it (it did still all go in the litterboxes eventually!), I decided to cancel. I have friends and family who save newspapers for me for my household uses (yes, I’ve dumpster dived for it before), and I still don’t have time to read the paper. All I really wanted were coupons and ads, so lately I’ve purchased the Sunday paper to get them.

In today’s purchased paper I found a deal to have the ads and coupons delivered free to my home! Finally, saving money and trees and getting just what I need.

Want free Sunday ads and coupons in Indianapolis? Through March 31, go to IndyStar.com/specialoffer and enter the promo code YesFree.

…if you live in a target area where they want your business, apparently. I live right in the middle of the urban-ness of it all and the ad was inserted in a paper I bought at a local gas station.
I just got this email:

Dear Shoppers:

Thank you for contacting us via IndyStar.com - Indiana’s number one local
news and information web site.

We regret to inform you that your request for a subscription to The
Indianapolis Star “Yes” was not able to be processed due to the fact it is
not scheduled for delivery to your zip code. If we do expand our delivery
area in the future and offer it in your zip code you will receive a
solicitation to subscribe.

Please contact us with any questions or concerns.

Overheard at work:
“What’s the procedure number for the procedure on procedures?”

Ah, to work in a regulated industry. What a contrast to when I worked as a chemist for a fragrance company. How many procedures did they have? Zero. (I prefer the procedures, actually.)

So really, what’s an online diary without the daily grind, including pictures of me doing totally normal things? Well, I’ll excuse this post because it’s really a contest entry and a good deed at the same time. And I got free cookies. I saw on PastaQueen’s blog that Manic Mommy is trying to get people to give blood, and there’s a prize up for grabs. Well hey, I used to give blood all the time when they did drives at work, Nicole and Aaron and I tromping down to the bus to get stabbed, but there haven’t been any blood drives lately. Just the other day I thought I ought to get to one of the brick-n-mortar donation places, and then I saw the blog post and decided today would be the day.

So after work I drove downtown and rolled ‘em up. I nearly flunked the iron test (centrifuge pardoned me; guess I better start taking those multivitamins again), and there was a backroom consultation about whether my recent tetanus/pertussis/diphtheria vaccination made me ineligible (did you know you’re supposed to get those again as an adult?), but I was given cookies to kill the time even before the donation! Then I donated without incident, except that Tajuana’s technique didn’t measure up to most of my bloodletting experiences. It STUNG! And again when she took it out! But I did bleed faster than usual (sometimes I dry up and get kicked out), and then there were more cookies, so here’s to being an introvert and giving blood on your own when your best friend gets promoted to work for a big shot at the marbled halls of the corporate headquarters and ditches you you have a few minutes after work!

I looked much more Sprockets when I had the gray jacket on over the black ribbed turtleneck!

Just a slow, errand-y weekend.

It’s about time to take down the tree (not one of the errands I got to yet but I thought I better get a picture before I forgot). The living room is rather cozy even without finishing the bookcases and fireplace area yet. My furniture fits better here than at my old house.

Joey has it made: snoozing with his girl, hogging the bed with all four feet stretched out.

Tonight I tried a new recipe. It was the first time I prepared leeks. So what is a single leek vs. multiple leeks? Aren’t they neat looking vegetables?

The dish was good (and quite sweet). We think it would be better with something spicy added next time, like a habañero pepper! It would also be good with mushrooms or maybe carrot shavings. The buckwheat noodles looked almost purple!

Adapted from Sesame Leek Soba Noodles:

Prepare noodles and set aside (I found buckwheat soba noodles in the bulk section at Wild Oats, but linguine would work)

Saute in olive oil:
Two leeks, chopped (white and light green parts)
one green bell pepper, chopped
bunch scallions, chopped
couple cloves minced garlic

Add to pan and cook for a couple minutes, stirring:
1/2 cup tahini
2 TBSP soy sauce
1/3 cup molasses
3 TBSP honey
salt & pepper

I did another circuit at work on Friday, this time with more women. I swear it was the silliest thing I’ve seen in awhile. Think a Nickelodeon Double Dare obstacle course (minus the slime and such) performed by a bunch of people in their forties. The last time what we did looked normal was when we were ten years old! But we were good and sweaty and sore after the balance balls, hand weights, hurdles, block runs, lunges, and medicine balls, and I guess that’s the point.

I signed up for curbside recycling about a month ago, and received my big blue bins right away, but no one has picked up our recyclables for three weeks now. They just sit at the curb all lonely, and all the trash bags are picked up, but not our bins of bottles and cans. (Now the neighbors know we are drunks, too.) My neighbors put their bins (but a different color and for a different company) on the curb on a different day, so I was really confused. I just received the bill, so I called Republic, and they were actually pretty helpful.

Apparently the city contracts three different companies to pick up recycling (maybe that’s part of the financial loss we incur with the program, huh?), and our next-door neighbor and another house on the other side of us are both in a different company’s district. How can we live in between houses on the same block and have service from a different company? Anyway, the CSR put more notes on our file so the truck will find us next week and credited us for January, and I took the excess recyclables to the free dropoff anyway so no landfill space was wasted, so all is well.

I’ve only been getting to the gym by myself about once a week, so I went with a coworker to our on-site fitness center today during lunch. Somehow I got sucked into a circuit training session with about eight guys (who smelled awful by the time we were done; why is guy sweat so much stinkier?), and now I’m really worn out. It’s bizarre to take a shower in the middle of the day at work, and next time I should bring shampoo and remember to eat more breakfast so I don’t feel like passing out! It was a good workout, but one station was jumping jacks, and the last time I did those I peed my pants. (Years ago, mind you, but jjs are a big problem for me!) I was warned ahead of time that jjs were in this circuit so I wisely used the restroom first.

In other exciting news, David vacuumed the basement last night, and I was ecstatic! The dog hair really gets to me.

Why was I surprised to find Evil-Lyn on Wikipedia?

When going through boxes of old stuff, I found Evil-Lyn. She was a bad guy from my brother’s He-Man toy collection. We used to play together, He-Man and Barbies, and we watched the cartoon together. Somehow Evil-Lyn came into my possession and went to boarding school and college with me, where I probably hung her on my dorm room door. When I found her again a couple of months ago, I sent her (along with other goofy stuff my brother would appreciate) to Matt. He sent me an email the other day that her foot came to a sad end:

I thought you’d appreciate/be saddened by this.

I glanced on the floor of my computer room just as I was checking my email before bed and I saw my dear Evil Lynn. But, dear God, she is now an amputee! At first I tried to comprehend why she was in the middle of my floor in the first place. I have no clue how she got there, and with one less apendage, no less. Then as though someone had written the script, Maddux (who was laying on the floor of the hallway) let out a whine. I looked at him and looked at my Mistress of the Universe and it became clear. Maddux somehow abducted my Evil Lynn (where ever she was originally) and gnawed her left foot off. I supposed I should keep an eye on his poo for a blue fluffy boot with yellow tooties. But no sockerpoos. Evil Lynn wouldn’t be caught dead in sockerpoos. She may be less a woman now, but I’m sure Skeletor will afford her a nice prosthetic. I just wonder why he stopped at the left foot. I supposed her angered warnings of retribution by Beastman, Webster or Stinkor convinced Maddux that one foot was enough.

I included a picture of her current sad state. As I was taking those pictures Maddux came into view of the camera and allowed enough evidence that he would be convicted in any state, except Texas.

Note: I think Maddux has also eaten a bar of soap that had been signed by Weird Al Yankovic, so Evil-Lyn is not that weird.

David and I had dinner at Machu Picchu Peruvian restaurant last night with Jon and Liz, both of whom attended boarding school with me, and Liz and I also went to the same college. Liz has been in Zambia for almost a year in the Peace Corps. She had a few days off and came home, and is heading back for the rest of her 27-month service next week.

Liz lives in a mud hut with a grass roof, but she has several huts, so it reminds me of having a bunch of forts like when I was a kid. There’s the hut where she sleeps, a kitchen hut, a latrine hut, a bathing hut (not technically a hut since it’s roofless), and a separate hut for entertaining guests. Is that like a parlor hut?

Highlights from her stories:

My little brother is almost 30!

I’m currently freezing in the basement office, trying to wear my new robe because David hates the pink fleece one that is much warmer. But he left for work and I just need to get myself upstairs to put on that warmer one.

I ate the rest of the Pad Thai (can you believe I suggested it was missing something important like soy sauce, and OMG, he DID forget the soy sauce? He has it running in his veins! also, I can NEVER tell what ingredient is missing), and now I’m back with a pink robe. Walt decided it was his job to make it as difficult as possible for me to put on my socks. He was also observed licking the toilet rim this morning, after which he immediately ran to the bedroom and licked my hand. Now he’s continuing his project of removing all stuffing from the blue lamb toy through the hole he made in its anus.

Last year about this time I started some kind of 2006 In Review post, left it in draft status for a couple of weeks, and then deleted it. There is something about me that absolutely resists categorizing the last year (or whatever period of time), and even more than that, I resist making resolutions. I can’t remember ever making resolutions. I hate goal-setting because of the risk of disappointing myself and especially others knowing about it. This makes it hard to write my Performance Management document every year at work, but I do it because it’s required. I’m good at keeping notes all year and then spinning the document to make me look good, but I think that’s mostly because I’m a good writer. (I am a Good Employee, of course, but it seems very silly and time-wasting for me to spend hours writing about how I met company and building priorities rather than just DOING MY JOB. This is also why I was not comfortable being a supervisor, because then I felt I wasted a lot more time helping my employees document all that stuff rather than all of us just DOING OUR JOBS.) Anyway, I did well at work last year, but it’s counterintuitive for me to record that.

At home, though, there is no one making me take stock of my life. I feel a little guilt about not doing it, but is it even useful? Wouldn’t it be like my PM at work, where I do what I always do, and then in November take a look at the other things I said I’d do and quickly squeeze it in under stress (while still doing my ACTUAL JOB), or spin it to say why I didn’t need to do that thing? I operate every day on guilt as it is, and I don’t see a need to introduce more. Without guilt running my life, I’d shrivel and die, I think.

So this year I have plans to start an IRA, but I wouldn’t call it a resolution. Every year I have some financial ideas, seeking to be safer/stronger with my money, but that’s self-driven by guilt anyway (or more precisely, fear of financial insecurity, but that falls under guilt in general for me). Doesn’t anyone else feel so badly that they didn’t lose the weight they said they would that they resolve not to resolve anything ever again? Note: I don’t plan to lose weight. I know that’s a biggie around here, but if I were to make some sort of resolution, it would probably be around contributing more peace to the world. I’ll do that anyway due to guilt!

Sigh.