Chicken Blog

Do you use your showerhead as a Waterpik? Just stand under the descending jets of water and grin broadly. Bare your teeth for a cheap cleansing. Of course I can't speak for the effectiveness; what I spent on dental procedures last year could sustain a Ugandan village for ten months.

Ultimately my fear of flying is not about the highly remote possibility of a blazing fall and the searing pain of a fiery, choking death. What most distresses me is the thought of the poor person who would be left to go through all my crap. I really need to get organized.

I have never understood the rationale or (possibly?) the appeal of one ply toilet paper. Is it an ecological, or economical maneuver? Anyone acting on either of these assumptions should know that I will use twice as much one ply. I even have a little poem on the subject, but I hear Geoff begging me not to share too much.

Are some of you wondering: "Weren't they sending off their computer for repairs? Why is she still talking?" It's true, I did write about being without a computer and not being able to Blog. But Geoff left in the pouring rain and didn't take the machine with him, so I am getting a few more things out there.

When I was ten and living in Guatemala, an English teacher gave a language lesson on the seasons. "In English the four seasons are called 'Winter, Spring, Fall and Autumn,'" and she wrote these on the chalkboard. In this school insolent children were treated to a yardstick slap across their hands, and so with some trepidation I raised my hand and politely said, "Autumn and Fall are the same, and what about Summer?" She replied confidently, "Summer is an American holiday."

I never respected any of my doctors that said "tinkle."

Something to consider if Homeland Security is ever strapped for cash: In Sonora, Mexico there are painted plywood cutouts of traffic cops standing in the middle of the street. They are smiling with warmth and authority at busy intersections, and it isn't until you speed passed them that you see they are flat and propped.

I met a dog that eats oranges. He sniffs each fruit on the tree, then chooses the best. He picks the fruit with his mouth, peels it with his paws and then munches contentedly on each juicy segment. When selecting avocados he climbs the lower branches of the tree first.

Our cat Chango prefers to drink his water as it slowly drips from the tap. Nena likes the bathroom sink to be filled with fresh water. Diego takes his drinks privately, from the sink, toilet, whatever. Geoff likes his water in huge cups with lots of ice. All three boys like their water delivered at bedtime, preferably after I have turned out their light and gone to bed.