Is that a garage door on my ceiling?: March 2010

Open Letter to the woman in the bathroom stall next to mine at "The Big Box Store":

I realize that there are certain sounds that one should expect when using the bathroom at a public venue.

Every body poops--I get it.

Here's the deal:::::::

Although I have been amused--- all the way to--

- "Seriously, you need to see a doctor about that" ---

with the sound effects in the stall next to me, there is one group of sounds that I wish to address here.

The sigh, the whistle, the grunt, the hum-- and the ahhhh.

People.

Please.

I understand that sometimes, during the process of weighing which is worse, peeing your pants or dying of some heaven knows what that lingers on the toilet seat, we wait till almost too late to avail ourselves of the facilities.

It happens.

What I need NOT to happen is for you to emit ANY kind of sound FROM YOUR MOUTH, while relieving yourself.

{{{{{ANY sound. Zip. NADA. NO. NONE.}}}}}}

I DO NOT need to sit there, feeling violated to my very core, eyes wide, unable to finish my own "business", as I wonder just what might be taking place on the other side of that stall wall.

Unable to remember how to zip my own pants so I can flee the "STAll OF TERRORS" I had entered so innocently only moments before.

Scarred by the very thought that I might come face to face with what or who was behind DOOR #2.

PLEASE. STOP. THE. MADNESS.

I beg you.

That is all.

Signed, The Potty Police

I have been going through a mental blog crisis, of sorts.

Every time I go to type my thoughts become constipated on the way to my fingers.

Actual thoughts now running through my head:

Punctuation. Colon, semi-colon. Hyphen? Remember when that author mocked all those who used dashes. Must not use dashes. Is it a dash or a hyphen? Should I google it so I don't look completely stupid? Snort, should have never started blogging if that was important. Blank space.......oh yeah. Where did my thoughts get constipated? [Surveying arms and fingers.] I wish I didn't have piano players fingernails. And that gimpy middle finger. Focus, Constipation. Gotta be the elbows or the wrists. Wait, there is my neck. [Moving head in all directions.] Wow, I really like this condo we are staying in. Love the wall paint. STOP! Focus! Neck. No, more likely the elbows or wrists. Kinda like the drain pipes in a toilet. Man, I'm not ready to go back home to our 1 bathroom garage yet. Ooo, Nat's coming home this weekend though--that will be fun. Oh, can't forget Studmuffin's Dr's appt. Studmuffin. Oo, I think that is what I will nickname my husband on this site. I wonder if they will really go snowboarding on Saturday. Where is everyone? Oh that's right, they're down at the pool. Soaking after a day of snowboarding. Blank space...focus, focus, focus. Oh yeah, constipation. Thoughts. I can never type anything witty or smart I really shouldn't be blooging. Whoops, blogging. Blooging, what a funny word. It could be like blew and boogers. AAHH! Focus! Shouldn't be blogging. Remember that blog that mocked people for saying they blogged for journaling purposes, or to keep family up to date and whatever--that everybody who blogged was just basically a narcissist --holy moly--spellchecker says I spelled that right, on the first try! I wish I could spell check my mouth, in public. Heck, I wish I could edit myself in public. I really want to use dashes. I can't focus on anything else because I am trying not to use dashes. Dashes or hyphens? Hyphenated dashes? Who knew that was a word? Blank space...my thought have reached an impasse. I wonder if that is because my elbows are bent? Ack!

Are you still with me?

It's a mess, isn't it.

It's like diarrhea of the brain that gets constipated on the way to my fingers.

I have decided though, that I am going to be a blogger.

It doesn't matter what my reasons are, because there is always someone out there that will mock---I will just have to wear my "mocking-boots"--{snort} Sorry.

I just want to stop allowing my self to fail before I even try.

I think I am channeling Yoda.

Sooo...back at the ranch.

Actually, the condo. We have been vacationing on the lake in Coeur de Lane, ID this week. (just a time share—we are so not rich) Phil and the kids have been snowboarding and playing at a water park and in the pool here.

Flying down a mountain on a piece of wood at 50 miles an hour does not speak peace to my soul. It speaks screaming and pain, actually.

Nor does being mistaken for Shamu at the water park and chased with a harpoon.

Soo... I do...important things...you know.. important things. I have been doing....important things... like, reading and playing on the computer. Sometimes I even let myself just close my eyes and enjoy the silence.

And because I feel naked without pictures, here is a few of the lake from our deck. The one of my Studmuffin fencing with the Wii is just a bonus for making it all the way to the end.

PS--what makes the wii pics even better is if you imagine him making ninja/oriental sounds while playing. We call him "The Ninja Fencer"