Let’s Talk Tushie

Okay, so I noticed something while we were in North Carolina and it's been kicking around in my head ever since. Not one single public restroom I went into offered toilet seat liners. I know, huh. Of all the things I could possibly obsess over, I choose toilet seat liners.

Anyhow, it got me thinking. At what point in my life did toilet seat liners become a necessity? Was there a moment when my tushie became too royal to sit on the throne without that ever-so-thin piece of tissue paper separating it from the seat?

Now, I know some of you will say "just hover," but I must admit—I am incapable of the hover. Or the squat. Whenever I try to do either, I'm so concerned that I'll go all over the place that I tense up, making it just that more likely that I'll go all over the place.

I have, on rare occasion managed the assisted squat, but that only works when there's something behind me I can place my hand on for support. Call it performance anxiety. I think it's genetic. My sister can't do it either.

But I digress. Back to my tushie. So, my tushie hasn't always been so pampered. I don't recall using toilet seat liners in public restrooms when I lived in Oregon. I remember them being available in most restrooms, but I never understood why someone would need to use them except on rare occasion.

I mean, studies have shown that phone receivers, door handles, and shopping carts carry more germs than toilet seats, so other than the every so often I would need to go and the only toilet available had dribbles on the seat, I never used a liner.

I've used outhouses and never felt the need for a liner. An air freshener maybe, but not a liner.

So when did my tushie become such a namby pamby? I think the liner thing became habit for me while living in San Jose. After one too many times of sitting on a wet seat. You know that moment, just after the tushie settles, when you realize "aw, crap! the seat's wet!" But what are you going to do? Contact's already been made. It's not like you can reverse time and choose a different toilet.

So this seemed to happen to me a lot after moving to California, and at some point I must have decided that a preemptive toilet seat tissue was the best strategy. I don't know what the difference is between Oregonians and Californians that makes one groups' women more capable of pissing in the pot, so to speak, without making a mess. But there it is.

I do have a theory, though. Immigrants. I couldn't for the life of me understand why I would find footprints on the toilet seats in public restrooms here. And just so you know, any seat with a footprint received a preemptive toilet seat liner from me.

I finally solved the footprint mystery when I traveled to Chiapas, Mexico, several years ago and had to use a community outhouse.

The community outhouse was a large walled wooden outbuilding with a raised bench, and the bench had several holes cut into to with no seats. I could plainly see where people had missed the holes, so there was no way in hell I was planting this tushie on that bench. Then I noticed the local women would stand on the bench, hike up their skirts, and squat over the holes.

Okay, so we've already discussed my shortcomings when it comes to squatting. It's a life skill I've never put much effort towards mastering. Though I will say that moment on that trip really made me question whether I might need to resort my priorities. I did finally manage to use the latrine after begging a travel companion to help me keep my balance; she was laughing the whole time. Hey, it's not nice to make fun of people's disabilities.

Anyhow, that's when I figured out how/why the footprints were on the public toilets at home. I understand this is the traditional method for using public facilities in India, China, and other parts of Asia as well. So, given the high density of immigrants in the Bay Area from those areas, the footprints and the accompanying wet spots suddenly made so much more sense. Still disgusting, but no longer perplexing.

Anyhow, that's my theory. Mind you there's not a shred of scientific data to back that up. But there it is just the same. Maybe I should apply for a federal grant and study the situation.

I thought "those crazy Californian" when they mandated toilet seat covers here. Oh, yeah. You better believe it. It's a health code violation here if a public restroom does not provide those toilet seat liners. And now that I've really thought this thing through (there must have been something better I could have done with the time, but I didn't, and I can't get it back so I figured I'd share my ramblings with you! It's your lucky day!), I understand why.

I mean everyone bitches about California being a nanny state, including me, but seeing as how they can't very well regulate and enforce how we all takes a piss without some serious invasion of privacy issues, they decided to mandate the toilet seat tissue. I'd say that's the better call.

So, back to the beginning of this post. Since toilet seat tissues are mandated here, it was a bit of a shock not to see them at all while in North Carolina and my tushie reluctantly became reacquainted with the public domain. And you know what, it wasn't that bad. I didn't have a single bad tushie experience and got used to it after the first couple times. Soon I was wondering what in the world I had been fussing over. Then I came home.

I don't know about you, but my first stop when getting off a plane is the restroom. (Don't even get me started on the in-flight restrooms. Emergencies only!) So there I am at Oakland International Airport, facing the throne in the restroom, having an internal conversation with my tushie:

ME: Look. It can't be that bad. You've gone without a liner for an entire week.
TUSHIE: Not by my choice!
ME: Yes, but still, nothing bad happened.
TUSHIE: Says you! I was traumatized, TRAUMATIZED I tell you, every time we sat down!
ME: But you've made such good progress. You know the first week is always the hardest when kicking a habit. You've already made it through the toughest part.
TUSHIE: But look at it. The liner's right there. It's practically begging to be used.
ME: Think of all the trees we'll save if we swear off using liners from now on.
TUSHIE: Trees my ass! Even if we used 20 of those tissuey things every time we go it wouldn't kill an entire tree in our lifetime. Put the liner on now, dammit! We have to pee!
ME: You don't have an ass…you are the ass. Now shut it and sit down!
TUSHIE: I'd sooner piss down our leg than sit on that seat without a liner!
ME: I've got the brain! You're just the bum. Now sit on it!
ME: Awww, crap. It's wet.
TUSHIE: Told you!

Will I become one of those people who travel with toilet seat liners folded neatly in my purse? I seriously doubt it. Though I may look into a GoGirl. Think about it. What woman hasn't encountered the dreaded gas station or fast food restaurant bathroom and wished she could pee standing up? Because I don't care how many toilet seat covers you layer, you're still not going to want to go there.

Some Randomness

So, someone swiped my coffee cup at work the other day. It was my own fault, really, for leaving it in the dish drainer to dry. There's nothing terribly distinctive about it, so no one would know it was mine, but I've been using the same cup since I started working here in 2004 and I've grown rather attached to it. Now I'm looking for a replacement cup and I found this. Basically there's a hole in the bottom of the cup and only the owner has the plug to fill it and make the cup useful. So anyone else trying to steal use my cup would wind up with hot coffee on their hand/arm/leg. Nope, there's nothing passive aggressive about that.

I skimmed through this article about people who are drawn to underpaying jobs. I don't think they've "discovered" a new disorder, but I do think it is symptomatic of low self-esteem and confidence, fear of failure, and just general laziness. Just another reason why I'm so proud of my sis for putting herself out there and taking a chance. She's been working at a small law firm for the past several months instead of retail and she loves it. Her work is engaging, fulfilling, and challenging and it's absolutely wonderful to watch her whole self blossom. Love you sis!

Though, honestly, I didn't like the researcher's tone, which seemed to say that all people everywhere should be striving for high-paying jobs. Sometimes these types of jobs are just what you need, like when you're trying to earn some extra cash around the holidays or when you're not the primary breadwinner in a household with children. Anyhow, it was still interesting.

Have you ever wondered how environmentally kosher the area you live in is? (Can you even use kosher like that in a sentence? Maybe I've coined a new phrase.) Well, you can find out by entering your zip code at the Scorecard website. The website generates an environmental report by county and you can find out how your county (or a county you may move to) stacks up environmentally with other counties. Scorecard also provides reports on the top polluters in the county. Fascinating to have all this information available at my fingertips. And depressing to see just how little we've accomplished when it comes to protecting the places we call home.

And now, a few ways you can help others in need this holiday season without lifting a finger. Well, okay, you will have to lift a finger (those keys won't type by themselves!), but you won't be exerting yourself. And I'm all about helping others while inconveniencing myself as little as possible.

This one's for all you frequent fliers out there—every time you use Facebook Places to check in at a Southwest Airlines airport, Southwest will donate $1 to the Make a Wish Foundation. Read about it here.

Now that it's December, it's also bellringer season. The Salvation Army has totally embraced technology to help meet their $3,000,000 fundraising goal. I recently downloaded the Salvation Army Christmas Music app from iTunes for $2.99. $1 of my purchase goes directly to the Salvation Army and in return, I get a great selection of Christmas music arranged in multiple genre playlists like Children's, Instrumental, Soul/Jazz, Oldies, and more.

The Salvation Army understands that not everyone wants to stand outside in the cold ringing the donation bell, and now you can help support the cause and stay toasty warm by heading to the Online Red Kettle where you can create your own iconic red kettle online and invite people to donate.

They've also created a fun bellringer app available for free through iTunes. So go ahead, ring my bell.

Sweet Potatoes with Pecans

We're in our last moments of the Thanksgiving weekend and I want to hold onto the good feelings. Mom and I have our own Thanksgiving tradition. Each year we're together, we sit down and watch an old musical. I love the old musicals and was really looking forward to Seven Brides for Seven Brothers or The King and I. It doesn't matter how many times I see these movies, I always enjoy them.

I was really hoping Netflix had some of these available via streaming because I've also had a song or two from Summer Stock running through my head lately. But alas, you actually have to reserve the DVDs and wait for them to be mailed. Normally that wouldn't be an issue and if I'd known earlier we would be spending the holiday at home I could have set it all up. But, since I couldn't watch the oldies I decided to catch up on missed episodes of Glee. It's still musical and I enjoy it, but it's just not the same.

Anyhow, here's the recipe for the sweet potato dish I made instead of the more traditional gooey marshmallow covered dish. It was super easy, and Scoob really liked it. I thought the herb flavor was a bit over powering, so I might cut back on that ingredient if I make this again. Or, maybe I just bought some really strong thyme.

Sweet Potatoes with Pecans

Sweet Potatoes with Pecans

Prep time: 15 minutes
Total time: 1 hour 10 minutes

Ingredients

2½ lbs sweet potatoes, peeled and sliced into ¼-inch rounds

3 Tbsp olive oil

½ cup grated Parmesan

1 tsp Kosher salt

¼ tsp black pepper

¾ cup chopped pecans

¼ cup light brown sugar

2 tsp fresh thyme leaves

pinch of cayenne pepper

Directions

1. Heat oven to 375°. Toss sweet potatoes, with 2 Tbsps oil, Parmesan, salt, pepper in a large bowl and transfer to a 2½–3 quart baking dish. Cover tightly with foil and bake 45–50 minutes; until the potatoes are tender.
2. While that is baking, combine the pecans, brown sugar, thyme, cayenne, and the remaining Tbsp of oil in a small bowl.
3. Once tender, remove foil from the baking dish and sprinkle the pecan mixture over the potatoes. Continue to bake, uncovered, until the pecans are toasted, about 10–12 minutes.

I got this (and the cranberry compote) recipe from the Nov. 2010 issue of Real Simple magazine. By not oiling the baking dish (there's plenty of oil already, sticking was not a problem) and eliminating additional salt and pepper from the pecan mixture, I've cut down slightly on the amount of oil and salt used in the original recipe, but otherwise it remains the same.

T: Take 2

While everyone else is out there battling the crowds trying to score a doorbuster deal and making  serious headway on their Holiday shopping, I'm still celebrating Thanksgiving. I have trouble moving on from Thanksgiving; come to think of it, I have trouble moving after Thanksgiving. (Especially after our day-after-Thanksgiving breakfast.) Now, assuming I could move and that I could work up the energy required to shoehorn myself into my fat jeans, the last thing I would want to do is ruin the holiday buzz by joining the hordes in a shopping frenzy.

Though, truth be told, I am starting to panic a bit about Christmas. Last I heard, dad, mom, and sis were coming to our house for the holiday and I've been getting all geared up for that—rearranging some furniture, looking into nearby hotels, trying out new recipes, and beginning to buy stocking stuffers. Well, after talking with my sis last night, it now sounds like the plan is to have Christmas at a cousin's house. Which is fine—just keep me in the loop, people!

Now that being the host house is off my plate (at least for the next week), I've realized that aside from the few stocking stuffers, I've done zip in the shopping department. Heck, I don't even know what people want! So yeah, the panic is beginning to creep in.

So, we went out for a pancake breakfast while we were in North Carolina and Scoob made a comment. He said "How come you don't make pancakes anymore?" You see, when we first moved in together I would make pancakes from scratch every Sunday morning. I had to remind him that I was still in college then so I had a lot more free time during the week leaving me with a lot more energy on the weekends. And I had to remind him that when we decided to eat healthier, pancakes became a once in a while treat instead of a regular occurrence. Anyhow, I surprised him with a pancake breakfast this morning with real maple syrup.

If you look closely, a couple of you may recognize some things in this photo.
Just keeping you close even when you're not close.

Our Thanksgiving h'ordeuvres—cheddar pepper palmiers.
Just looking at them made me happy. Eating them made me happier.

The cranberry and brandy compote. Very tasty and if I hadn't already bought
the maple syrup I would have used it on my pancakes this morning!

A new twist on holiday sweet potatoes. They were good, and much healthier than their marshmallow encrusted cousins. Though I've found another sweet potato recipe I'd like to try as well.

And the turkey. Scoob liked it, but turkey is just turkey to me and since I didn't make potatoes, I didn't bother with gravy which might have made me like the bird better.

We'll do a re-run of Thanksgiving tonight for dinner and try to stretch out the holiday buzz. Hopefully we won't relive the food coma.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! The kitchen flurry has begun and I think I'm about to put the turkey in the oven. That is, just as soon as I figure out how to cook a turkey breast as opposed to the whole turkey. Since it's just the two of us and we've been cutting back on our meat consumption, it just didn't make sense to cook a whole bird.

Oh, and can I tell you something? A little bit goes a long way when it comes to brandy. That's right. I did perform that quality check on the brandy last night, and whoa. Thankfully, I managed to get the table set up for today before it went straight to my head.

Okay, let me tell you something else. White, white table cloth + cats = never a good idea. The minute I took that cloth out of its protective wrapper I saw the cat hair. I swear, Hermione must have placed an accio spell on that thing. (For you non-Harry Potter people.) And ironing it only seemed to attract more hair. I'm thinking I need to add mini lint-rollers next to the forks in our place settings. I'll have some turkey with a side of hairball, please.

Anyhow, I hope you all have a safe and happy Thanksgiving. Now, I'd better go figure out how to cook that turkey.

T Minus 1

Oh. My. God. Y'all. Thanksgiving is tomorrow!We were supposed to drive up to Oregon today to spend the holiday with mom, but she hasn't been feeling well and with the severe weather she wanted us to stay home, stay warm, stay safe, and come visit some other time. We made this decision Monday evening, which left me 2 whole days to plan a menu, shop, and prep. It's 7:00 on Turkey Eve and I haven't started prepping yet, but the menu and shopping are finished. Mostly.

I did the shopping on my way home from work last night. It took forever to find the pastry puffs and when I did finally find them there was only one left way, way in the back of the freezer case. I did my best to act all cute, charming, and chatty like my sis as I approached the nearest tall person to reach it for me. I also bought some brandy. Blackberry brandy, for a cranberry compote. Of course the recipe calls for straight bourbon and silly me thought brandy was in the whiskey/whisky/scotch/bourbon family. Whiskey and I do not get along and blackberry sounded nummy, so maybe it is a good thing I got the brandy instead.

But dudes, grocery stores don't carry small bottles—I only need a small amount. I suppose I'll just have to find something to do with the leftover brandy. Scoob seems to be coming down with a cold and has a nagging cough. I'm thinking I'll make him a hot toddy. Yeah, that's if I haven't drank it all by dinner. Heh. I'm not going to discuss the entire contents of my grocery cart, you'll just have to trust me when I say we're having more than pastry puffs and brandy for dinner. I also bought wine.

Among the many, many things I am thankful for are that I am able to save money so that surprise expenses (like a last minute Thanksgiving dinner) don't blow the household budget, that I've learned to be flexible and not completely stress while handling the curves when life changes the plan, and that over the years I've learned to cook so I know I can pull it off.

I'm also thankful for the technology that allows me to stay in touch with distant family and friends, whether that's through this blog, on the phone, through facebook, via twitter, or whatever. I really am thankful for that, and yet it feels so, I don't know, superficial? I mean when I think about the day-to-day challenges people around the world have to deal with, being thankful for facebook seems pretty weak.

Really there are thousands of things I am thankful for. Far too many to count. But it is important to at least try to count them so that they're not taken for granted. I'm thankful that Scoob and I have stable jobs. I'm thankful for having supportive family and friends in my life. I'm thankful to live in the United States. No matter how crazy, unjust, and just plain loopy things can get, I'll always be thankful that I was fortunate enough to be born here. Anyhow, the list goes on.

Oh hey. I forgot to tell you about our airport adventures on our trip. So guess who tried to get a pocketknife through airport security? Or rather, guess who DID get a pocketknife through airport security? If you said Scoob, you'd be wrong. It was me. I completely forgot I'd stashed my pocketknife in my camera case after our Lava Beds trip last July and I breezed right through security at Oakland airport. But the Raleigh airport security caught it on the return  trip. It took 3 bag searches and 4 x-rays to finally find it, but by golly, find it they did!

And you know what, the TSA guy was totally nice the entire time and even helped me set up a way to ship it to myself. Dad gave me that pocketknife last Christmas, so I didn't want to just leave it behind. Now, had TSA Oakland actually caught the pocketknife, I'm pretty sure I would have been strip searched and I'd probably be blogging at you from federal jail begging someone to post bail.

Anyhoodle, I should probably get my hiney in the kitchen and start some of that prep for tomorrow. I think I'll start with a quality check on that brandy.

Well, I Tried

I tried to blog at you while we were out of town last week. Really I did. But between DWTS hoopla (our friends have an addiction, and now I may have one too) and Scoob hogging the laptop because he was on a working vacation, I didn't do too well. Besides Scoob working Tuesday through Thursday, we still had a great time.

The only real downside was the trip home, partly because we didn't want to leave, and partly because Thanksgiving travel has started and there were a lot of children on our return flight between Kansas City and Oakland. Though, honestly, of the 30 or so kids on the plane, only one was particularly problematic. Problematic as in he didn't stop screaming for the entire 4 hour flight. Little dude's face was so red I was actually scared for him.

Oh yeah, guess where little dude was sitting—not directly behind us (thank god), but in that row across the aisle. Still too close for comfort. Let me tell ya', I was counting the seconds to 10,000 feet so I could get my iPhone out, jam the buds in my ears, and crank some tunes. And his twin sister was just so calm and relaxed, coloring in her coloring book next to him the whole flight. I felt so bad for his parents. I tried to smile when I caught the mom's eyes, but I'm sure she just saw one more person glaring at her. There was a resounding cheer when the plane touched down in Oakland; I'm sure his parents were just as happy as everyone else to put an end to that experience.

Anyhow, our first morning in North Carolina was breakfast at The Old Granary Restaurant in Fearrington Village. Unless you have a gluten allergy, I don't care what kind of diet you're on—you must have a least one biscuit from the biscuit basket. After breakfast we went next door to McIntyre's Books. I may have found a new favorite bookstore. Well, second favorite. I don't think any bookstore could replace Powell's as my favorite.

At any rate, this is what a bookstore should be—locally owned, have personality, and staffed with friendly people who love to read. Not at all like the sterilized experience of going into a B&N or Borders where you know any book with prominent placement wasn't put there because someone on staff actually read it or liked it, but because the publisher paid a handsome fee to have the book placed there. Almost every book out on a table at McIntyre's had a hand-written note from a staff member attached to it.  Anyhow. Great bookstore. Great books. Support your local independent bookstores.

After that, the week was mostly a blur. But amazingly, it was a blur of golds and reds and oranges and browns. By some fluke, the weather had been mild for several weeks before we got there, so we also caught the end of the fall foliage season. Gorgeous. And we wrapped up the week by going to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 on Friday afternoon.

Anyhoodle, we're home now, and believe it or not, I'm caught up on laundry. And I woke up at 5:30 this morning. Without an alarm. I know. What is this world coming to?