Blog Rating Notice

Ladies and Gentlemen, it has come to my attention that a terrible thing has happened to this blog.

This blog has slipped in its ratings.

Yes, dear readers, this blog has slipped to a PG-13 rating.

That simply will. not. do.

So, in light of this (and the obvious fact that I haven't discussed poop within recent memory, nor have I ever mentioned condoms), I give you the following three "post-ettes" in an attempt to raise this blog to its former glorious R rating:

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Cat Poop
Our cats are notoriously finicky creatures. If the litter boxes have not been scooped for, say, thirty minutes, they start clearing their throats and glaring at us prior to entering.

Now Daniel will continue to enter the litter boxes even up until they're scooped (twice daily -- it's frequent with three cats). Granted, he gives a long-suffering glare at whatever two-legged creature happens to be nearby, but he goes in the box, attempts to cover what he's done -- and at 12-15 pounds he isn't that successful despite the size of the box -- emerges, and proceeds to ignore his servants for at least fifteen minutes.

Patrick displays his disgust only when he's sick to his little gastro-intestinal tract, which leads him to doing such interesting things as going to the human bathroom to poo on the floor beside the human commode.

Now if only we could teach that boy to get on the commode, we might have something worth pursuing.

Emily, though? When her Precious Princess Poopy Palace is not scooped to her satisfaction?

Carpet.

Preferably in one of the kids' rooms.

Because she likes to hear them squeal.

Preschool Poop
Upon returning from dinner at my parents' house one night, I was apparently not moving quickly enough toward the front door.

My utter slackitude resulted in the following monologue from my younger son, who was waiting for me with his big brother at the door while I lugged in several tons of groceries:

"Oh GWEAT!

I dust poopded in my undoopayunts.!

I ated too much and it dust pushded it wight aout!"

(yes, he really does talk like this, and we have to fight the urge to mimic him... hee)

He had likely tried to pass gas (one of his hobbies) and got an unexpected result. I told him it was okay, it was an accident, etc. He got into the bathroom and got cleaned up. All was well.

Until I made this post, that is. Me blogging about this is yet another one of those things which will doubtless be revisited in my now-four-year-old's future therapy sessions.

Condoms
I know this comes as a shock to most of you, but my husband and I occasionally like to indulge in a bit of maritally sanctioned intimacy, also known as nuptial nookie.

Well, to accomplish this without changing our 1:1 kid-to-adult ratio, we use condoms (long story... short of sterilization or an IUD, both of which I'm considering -- the former for him, the latter for me -- it's all we've got).

Since I get to do most of the shopping, I'm usually responsible for procurement.

Unfortunately, I do most of my shopping with the kids, which leads to some hasty choices at times, especially if I wish to avoid the eight-year-old trumpeting, "What's a condom, Mama?"

So yeah, good times.

Anyway, the last time Himself and I decided we'd be killing off a few more rubber trees, he asked me, "Do we have any?"

"Sure honey, on the bookshelf by your side of the bed."

He looked, picked up the packets, and raised one eyebrow at me.

"Spiral ribbed or mint tingle????"

I shrugged.

"That's what happens when your wife buys the Party Pack."
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Must post and re-check the ratings... a moment, if you will...



Ah yes. Much better. We're BA-ACK!

NOT Vacation Pictures

Our office has a slight termite problem. I say "slight" in that they're not the really bad subterranean termites and usually the little nasties confine themselves to the northern bay of our building.

I am in the center bay, with a one-bay buffer between me and Termite Central.

This morning, I found termite wings on my desk. Ick. I left the Big Boss a note:

with an attached post-script:

Note: The scanning flattened it a little. I probably need to clean off the flatbed.

One of the partners said, "They're not supposed to be swarming over there," when I told him the little nasties had expanded their territory.

Because, you know, termites respect boundaries.

BAD termite! To the corner with you!

Fortunately, the termite corpse was still on my desk when he said that. In fact, he's the one who found it.

Maybe NOW we'll get the place tented. Termite wings falling like snow in the bookkeeping area? Not sufficient. Termite wings blanketing the work table in the print room? Not sufficient. Handing the big boss a telephone note with a squished termite on it? Not sufficient.

Termites obviously increasing their power base?

This means WAR. Or at least a bug bomb or four.

I hope.

Update: We're bombing this weekend. 12 bombs, placed above the suspended ceiling tiles. Woohoo!

De-Stinking Birkenstocks

Edited 10/03/09 to add:
For those of you here trying to find out how to de-stink your Birk footbeds, the short version is a) buy the official footbed cleaner, available in the Birkenstock care kit, or b) try some of the suggestions in the comments such as bag them up in some unused cat litter for a period of time, try baking soda, etc.

Should you choose to read further and take offense at the amazing lack of practical suggestions past this point, note: this post is rambling, and was NEVER written to be used as some sort of instruction manual for cleaning the footbeds. I can't help that it's one of Google's top links when you search "Stinky Birkenstocks". I didn't put it there. It's just what comes up. Bitch to Google, not to me.

Should you opt to ignore this fact and instead read on and leave some wisecracking comment here such as "Talking about a whole lot of blablalbla indeed..." like one of the anonymous commenters did today (again), your comment will be deleted and furthermore will not have the dubious honor of being enshrined forever in italics at the top of this post.

You're welcome to your own opinions, but do try not to be an asshat on someone else's blog.

Thanks.

As you can likely figure by the title, I'm trying to figure out how to de-stink my beloved well-broken-in Birkenstocks.

I'd noticed they were getting a little funky, especially when my sister-in-law expressed her gratitude that I was taking them off and tucking them away. Ouch. And then as I was sitting at my desk at work this past Tuesday, a rank stench wafted up from under my desk, doubtless hurried on its way by my computer's fan.

UGH! Lysol, lysol, lysol... (I hope it doesn't have a bad effect on nubuck leather)

I need these shoes. I am a total klutz, and having a nice, wide, firm foundation under me is my only hope for remaining even marginally upright. My first Friday back at this job I was heading out the door to go home. I wasn't looking as closely at the ground as perhaps I should have, and the one of the flat heels on my cutsie little sandals slid out from under me at the bottom of the stairs. I splatted right on the parking lot, one knee bent up under me with the side of it on the ground, and the rest of my body kind of splayed out. It took two of the guys at work to help me get up (poor men, I weighed at least 200 lbs. at the time).

I managed to get home and spent the weekend doped up on ultracet. I had a gorgeous bruise that entended from a huge one the size of a grapefruit on the side of my right knee (the swelling was also impressive) all the way down to the inside of my right ankle. It took nearly a month for all the swelling and bruising to go away.

Then, right after I was supposedly all better, I was dashing out the door to lunch because a new book from an author I like (J.R. Ward, if anyone's interested) was out. The bookstore said they had one copy left, so I was in a bit of a hurry to get there.

You can see where this is leading, right?

Yep, splat. Same fall position, same everything except this time the pavement wasn't wet so at least I didn't fall quite as hard. I did manage to scrape the skin on top of my right foot though, somehow. This time I managed to get up on my own, limped to the car, drove to the bookstore, and bought my book.

Yes, the book was worth it.

As a side note, both times I was carrying a can of Diet Coke. Both times I managed to keep the Diet Coke can upright. You can tell where my priorities lie.

Anyway, after my second close encounter of the blacktop kind, I realized I needed something a bit more substantial under me than my current shoes. All my shoes are flats -- I own one pair of heels and try to break my neck once every couple of years wearing them -- but their soles are leather and don't have any gripping power. Not only that, but the heels tend to get really slippery especially as I put most of my weight on them first.

I already owned one pair of Birks, but they were over 15 years old and, well, yucky. They weren't stinky as I didn't wear them every day, but they were most hideous. Originally they were blue suede Arizonas, but time had faded them to a kind of dark-puke-green. I'd also left them in my car one day and the material on the bottoms shrank up a bit from the heat and curled away from the heel just a tad. The nibbling on the cork from my then-still-puppy Little Guy hadn't improved their appearance either.

Hmm. Must buy professional looking Birks! Yeah, total oxymoron, but I think the falls addled my brains a bit. Anyway, I ended up with a pair of medium-brown nubuck Arizonas, and for the past year I have worn them almost Every. Single. Day.

You know how much your feet sweat in a year? You don't want to.

I searched online for a cure for my stinky Birks. The tops look great (as far as Arizonas can look great), so they aren't ready for the trash bin yet, but we needed a cure. I Googled a a range of terms from "Birkenstocks, cleaning" to "How to De-Stink Birkenstocks." I learned through clicking on various links that a) I'm not alone in my Birk love, and b) apparently people who wear Birkenstocks are thought by much of the world to not shave their legs. Okay. Tell that to my razor.

I also have cutely pedicured toes with bright red toenail polish. So take that. Yes, my "crunch" factor is minimal, hideous shoes and homebirth notwithstanding.

The only solution I could find after all my searching was the Official Birkenstock Footbed Cleaner, sold only in the Deluxe Birkenstock Care Kit.

Additionally, to keep this problem from happening again, I know that wearing the same pair of shoes each day doesn't really give the shoes a chance to breathe and recover from the heavy-duty wearing, so I needed to add to my Birkenstock collection especially after a second day of Lysoling my Birkenstocks (not recommended, for the record).

So Thursday I went out to our local "We Sell Comfortable Yet Alarmingly Hideous Shoes" store. Deluxe Birkenstock Care Kit? Check. New Birks? Check and check!

The first linked new shoe is the "Cozumel", which is actually pretty cute for a Birkenstock when on the foot, believe it or not. The second linked shoe is the "Florida". I don't know why the Florida has three straps, but whatever. THOSE are hideous, but they're neutral and beggars can't be choosers.

I got home with my new Birks and my cleaning kit, and proceeded to do the leather protecter on my new Birks. I then hauled out the footbed cleaner for my now unwearable (due to the stench factor) beautifully broken in Birks.

Let's just say that one round of cleaning hasn't had the desired effect, although it has improved matters greatly. I'm giving the footbeds a rest tonight, although I did clean off the nubuck with the nubuck block and used the leather protector on the uppers. I also re-sealed the cork on them.

My hope is that I'll soon have three acceptable pairs of Birks to wear day-to-day. And that I'll remain upright in the wearing.

I still walk into doorways I know darned good and well are there, though. I don't think there's a cure for that.

The Tide is In

Notes:
#1 - Hi there, Angel! Glad to see you're out there in the blogosphere. And yipes, migraines suck. I'm whiny enough just bleeding most of the time. We definitely need to talk!

#2 - Speaking of bleeding, stop here if you don't want to read about the subject line. Yes, more of the bloodbath. You have been warned.

Anyway, yep, it's definitely my period. No wonder I'm lucid. Got up twice in the night to change super-plus supplies and back-ups of same.

Make that lucid but sleep deprived. Slightly grumpy, too.

I had to keep running to the bathroom at work every hour or so to take care of "matters" as well. This is especially obnoxious as I'm the prime telephone answerer, so any time I leave my desk I have to ask someone else to catch the phones. Therefore, any observant coworker with too much time on his or her hands can chart my time of the month.

I await the inevitable office pool with bated breath.

Cramping is running between a 1 and a 3 on a pain scale where zero is no pain and ten is pain comparable to feeling that my pelvis is going to fracture, like the way it felt when I was pushing out the younger offspring. This is nothing like that; ergo, it's not enough to cause me to lose any sleep... just annoy me when I'm awake. I'm actually allergic to Aleve (took it for a year back when it was by prescription only for cramps, then started getting hives), Tylenol doesn't touch the pain, and aspirin when I'm already bleeding seems, well, counterintuitive, yanno? And narcotics would definitely be over the top for a petty annoyance like this...

So yes, grumpy. That would be me.

My doc told me to let them know the start date of my period when they call to give me the results of the biopsy. Guess I'll call them with that info tomorrow, per their instructions, since I haven't heard from them yet and it's officially been a week.

I swear, I must have one of the only bodies out there that can lose blood this steadily and NOT have the sense to be anemic. Sheesh.

Steve, Don't Eat It!

Oh holy Jesus God... if anyone reads this blog (not that I expect anyone does), please check out this guy's website. The Sneeze is self-described as "Half zine. Half blog. Half not good with fractions. "

The segment which entertains me the most is archived at: http://www.thesneeze.com/mt-archives/cat_steve_dont_eat_it.php

Folks, in the pure interests of journalism and vicarious nauseated experiences, Steve has tried many "food" products of interest that are marked for the consumption of the unexpecting public, including potted meat food product (also linked from an entry on http://buccaneers.mostvaluablenetwork.com -- the guy who writes the featured Buccaneers column on that site had the misfortune to take potted meat food product on an FTX with him, and lived to tell the sorry tale and commiserate with Steve), pickled pork skins, breast milk, infected corn (long explanation), fermented soy beans, prison wine, and silkworm pupae.

A word to the queasy: If you are easily grossed out, this site may not be for you. Please think before you click. However, if you're easily grossed out but curious beyond belief anyway, have a look. It'll be well worth your time.

Just bring a bucket.