This girl is funny...not skinny.

This girl is funny...not skinny.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

I don't so much digest veggies as I reconstruct them in a different form.

Good evening!

Most of you know that Peaches and Hubby are vegetarians.  I, too, have dabbled it in, and sort of follow a 5 day a week meat free life.  (Hubby has lost 25 pounds in 3 months.  I gained 2.)

Those of you who know me know I have an issue with using bathrooms that are not my own.  I am uncomfortable using restrooms in gas stations, other people's homes, and the mall.  Porta potties are right out.

Over the holidays, and not enough time has passed for me to give any more details than "over the holidays"  I attended a gathering of people I know at a home to which I'd never been.  (I'm using correct grammar to cover up the vile horror that follows.) 

It was one of those gatherings where you need to be fairly polite, and food and beverage is involved, but a ready restroom might not be.  In situations like that, when I know I will be unable to use a restroom separated from the festivities, I will curtail  (it's a word) my intake of food and drink until such time as I can be sure a restroom is private...and nearby.

Following a fairly strict vegetarian diet, as I did during the holidays, I found that my output was far different than it had been when I was consuming cooked animal flesh on a daily basis. I won't go into great detail  (yet)  but it's just different.  Any change in diet will do that.

So at this gathering, even though I was being good, I realized that I was in need of a room of requirement.  (Thanks J.K. Rowlings.)  Having never been to the home in question, I asked the host where the nearest restroom was.

Oh goody...a tiny powder room four steps from the kitchen table.

Seriously.  Who decided having a one holer next to where people eat was a good plan?  My grandparents stuck their outhouse a city block away from the kitchen.  I realize that it's easier to put rooms that need plumbing next to each other, but a powder room next to the place where people are eating is NOT my first, second, or third choice in design.

Like this...only smaller...with more decorations...and oh yeah...and NO FLOW TOILET!
But needs are needs, so I went in to the tiniest  (And I grew up in a home that had one of these powder rooms.  It was was so small, an adult couldn't sit facing forward.) most decorated powder room I've ever seen.  Potpourri and tiny little nick nacks filled the limited space.  I almost didn't see the throne because it was covered in one of those decorative fuzzy deals.  (If you come to my house you get an uncovered seat, and you'll like it.  I feel no need to camouflage the toilet.)

You know how when you're at a gathering you start a mental clock once you're in the bathroom so that you don't stay in there too long, thus drawing looks and comments from those outside?

Well, this wasn't one of those breaks I could just take and get out in the respectable amount of time.  So I was already at the red zone time wise when I flushed.  I washed my hands and, because I have these issues about bathrooms, I double checked to make sure I hadn't...you know...left anything.

I was horrified to see...twigs and leaves.

At first I thought, "It's such a small space, I must have bumped a bit of potpourri into the bowl."

I could not get that lucky.

My next thought was, "When was I chewing on an elm tree?"  Because that's what it looked like.

Did I mention, by the way, that the tiny toilet was also a water saving low flow toilet?

After about the sixth flush...and I'm beyond my time limit here, the clock in my head is screaming...I resort to the only thing I can do: 

I fish what's left out and put it in the sink...and rinse it down.

Don't you judge me.  I'm not making it up. These were twigs and leaves.  TWIGS AND LEAVES.  Like they'd just fallen off a tree.

I'd been in that tiny room for a lifetime...probably nine minutes.  I emerged after pretty much using up all the soap  (I even thought about using one of those decorative little soaps) to wash my hands.  I didn't make eye contact for the rest of the night.
I'm not eating chicken. 
I'm helping the digestive
process.
Since the holidays I eat a little meat now and then.  I find that, in the digestive world there's a food chain, and the meat devours the plants even on the inside.  And I think I'm good with that.


A couple palate cleansers:

See, I wanted something cool and defining, but the "Rachel" was already taken.  So I got this.
The Kate Gosslein haircut is OVER. It looks like a porcupine got flattened and then stuck on your head.  It looks like a bed head nightmare.  You look stupid and people are making fun of you.  Kate, the creator of this nightmare, isn't even wearing it anymore.  Stop wearing it!

Something no one will EVER say to me:  Your underwear is ruining your butt.  Stop wearing underwear.

Elsie and NBM have begun a battle over Elsie's George Foreman grill that would make George proud.  Who will emerge with the championship belt?  It's even money right now.  Stay tuned.

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