Shiny Happy Pooper

In a book I'm reading right now there is a comment nearly suggesting how life without toilet paper would be a life of privation.
   I think not.
   Since I've gotten healthy, when I poop I more often than not don't need toilet paper. That's right: When I wipe it's already clean.

I enjoy toilet paper. But I could do without it. If I cloth diaper a baby I will stop using toilet paper.

"Put it in the ground where the flowers grow / Gold and silver shine"

Going to the Doctor with Dog

EuEu was getting recurring ear infections. His ear(s) would get red, waxy, stinky — and with the last case, seemingly painful; he'd scratch his ear and whimper. Le sad!!
   The allopathic veterinary treatment we were given is a liquid "for canine otic use only", squeezed into the external auditory meatus, made of antibiotics (my enemy) and steroids (not my friend).
   Dutifully I squirted it into his ear. He didn't like it, and the only nice thing for me about the procedure was that I was supposed to massage the base of the ear immediately after administration, to squelch the liquid around, and I liked the sound.
   When Euclid got his latest ear infection, even after my not bathing him for a month and a half because I had been told it was because water got in his ears in the bath (he has flop-down ears), I was fed up.
   I believe that the recurrence indicated some internal disorder; if his system was healthy he wouldn't have chronically inflamed ears.
   Bjorn wanted to take him back to the vet, but I ... was upset at the idea of paying money to be told to do the same old thing that WOULD NOT FIX THE SAME OLD PROBLEM.
   I said I'm not willing to pay a vet unless we see one who will help us address his health, not just his ear, and try to prevent this from happening in the future. Bjorn Googled up some alternative dog docs for me to call. I selected a favorite, called to chat about her practice and — satisfied — secured an appointment, then filled out and sent in a detailed 9 page intake form.

Our appointment was at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning. We arranged with Em and En to borrow a car; En made sure to bike to work that morning so we could have one available to us.
   This vet runs a right smart set-up.
   Guess what initial treatment she gave us? A liquid "for canine otic use only", squeezed into the external auditory meatus ...
   ... the same stuff.
   BUT FIRST she actually took a swab of his ear and sent it to the in-house lab to see if we were dealing with something fungal, or bacterial, or what. She tests before treatment. She thinks that the type of infection is significant. It could, for example, suggest an etiology, or put us on the alert to certain co-morbidities.
   Is this not medicine 101?!?
   She also gave us formulae for drying his ears after a bath (involving hydrogen peroxide, or vinegar, or rubbing alcohol; all non-toxic household agents). She gave us a dropper to apply them. These liquid agents will reach where water will reach but they're dehydrators. She addresses my concerns. She freely shares information.
   She also suggested measures we can take (mostly by way of supplements Euclid can take) to boost his immune health. And her practice is right next to the local high-end pet food/care store, and she doesn't carry or sell (and thus doesn't have monetary incentive to push) certain supps or drugs. She had recommendations, but they were based on health considerations. She's not a drug lord.

Basically, she's awesome.

And it's been a month and a half since Euclid had any trouble with his little ears. This is a record.

sprang spreng sprong moo moo moo

On the first day of SPRING! I walked 5 miles, liquid fasted until supper, did some research at the library, enjoyed my day off work.
   I turned off the heat. I let the dog sleep with us because I didn't want him to get too cold in his crate (I am a pup pamperer). Bjorn turned the heat back on this morning. 'Twas too cold for him.

Today I got my taxes done. Da did them. Joint filing FT$!

And we picked up our cow. Wow. Wow. Wow cow. Cow wow. 706 lb hanging weight. ~21 cubic feet of freezer filled.
   We got 17 boxes of cut-and-wrapped cow parts and 3 bonus boxes of dog bones (that is, cow bones for the dog). When we got home, we took the meat out of the boxes. Most of the boxes were packed by cut. 4 boxes of mostly hamburger (whoa, so much hamburger), 2 boxes of soup bones, 1 box of cube steaks and fajita meat, 1 box of T-bone and sirloin steaks (one cow makes a lot of steaks!), 2 boxes full of roasts ... yada yada fish paste.

(When Roscivs lived in South Africa one of his favorite friends there said "fish paste" after "yada yada" and he picked it up from her.)

Bjorn and I did a great job with a novel situation. Go team! Huzpaz! Together, we wanted to get everything into the freezer as fast as possible on this end (the now), and to get things out of it as efficiently as possible on the other end (the future). To that end (that is, the future), we divvied up the cuts and put them back in the boxes (dead cow Tetris) with the basics in each: hamburger, steaks, a roast, soup bones. So it'll go like this: take a box out of the freezer. Bring it in to the little freezer in the house. Dine on a nice variety of cuts instead of 3 weeks in a row of chuck roast all the time, 4 weeks in a row of nothing but T-bone steaks, and no more of either for the rest of the year. And no digging around in the freezer for this or that cut.
   I think it'll work well. If we get stew meat in a box I take out in the winter I'll make stew; if in the summer, I'll make kebabs (on rosemary skewers from our garden!).

These are the daffodil days. Anything you want to, do it.

Remembrancers

The initial title for this post was "My Hat Wallet It Has Three Corners Folds".

I abandoned purses wholly last year. Before total abandon, I chose to secure a wallet. I tried several (it's odd shopping!) but couldn't find one that suited until I rediscovered Roscivs'. It's a leather tri-fold. When I came upon it I had a sudden memory of him talking about how he found tri-folds superior to bi-folds, yet they're very hard to find.
   I love this wallet. It doesn't encumber me (like a purse does), it isn't expected to match my clothes, my event, or a venue (as a purse is), it doesn't suffer junk (o über-culpable purse!). It is a soft cowhide token of Roscivs. Simple, sensible, and sentimental. Win, win, win.

I have also taken up handkerchiefs. (After reading Zero Waste Home, tissues seem a gross waste.) Another memento. Sniff sniff.

carefree

I sold my car! I am car-free!!
   This is the good life. Living without driving!
   I met Bjorn in a parking garage; my vehicle was assigned the space next to his. Now we are a carless family. A good story.

For celebration, I give you "Sampo", the song in the opening credits of Tonari No Totoro.

あるこう あるこう わたしはげんき
あるくの だいすき どんどんいこう

Here's my translation: 'Walk, walk. I am healthy. I love walking! "don-don" goes the sound.'

New House: Utilities: Garbage

When I called the city to set up our utilities, I selected the smallest available garbage bin (and the largest organic-waste bin). The woman at the city seemed to think that we would be soon asking for a bigger garbage bin.
   We have a 20 gallon garbage bin. Garbage is collected every other week. This means our cap on waste is 5 gallons / person / week.

Bin day is Friday. I love watching the truck pull up to the house, extend the claw-hug to the bin, lift it, and empty the contents. I loved it as a kid too.

Moving is a high-waste activity, and our bin is filling up. Will utili-lady be right? Will we want a bigger bin? I guess: not.
   I intend to monitor how much garbage (i.e., municipal solid waste, MSW, that what goes to landfills) we produce on a regular basis. Can we produce less than 20 gallons a month? Less than 20 pounds? — I'll have to weigh myself with the garbage to know. I looked up how much MSW the average American produces. The measurements I found are of weight, against which bin volume does not provide a meaningful comparison.

Returning and Reporting: Dentition Edition

So, if you remember (and at least one of you does, which I know because she prompted a follow-up) I have my unusual, new toothcare protocol and wanted to see what the dentist thought about my oral health. Here is the follow-up: At my recent appointment I asked the dentist how my teeth and gums are looking. He said "very good".

   In my experience, that is almost as effusive as a dentist can get. I am satisfied.

   Nevertheless, I have altered my regimen somewhat: I bought some xylitol (plain) and I use it ~every other night. Sheesh that stuff is sweet! :P Like, Lisa Frank sweet. x_x

Dipster: Installment III

I don't brush with toothpaste any more.
   I have not brushed with toothpaste since November 2012. I pull oil every morning for 20 minutes and I brush my teeth with water every night (or, rarely, with oil or baking soda). I floss every night too (a habit I abruptly adopted fervently after Roscivs died).
   After I pull oil, my teeth feel as smooth as they do the afternoon after a dentist visit! I like the results.
   Yet ...
   I have not yet seen the dentist since adopting these oral hygiene methods. I have my biannual visit coming up next month and I wonder what he will say about the health of my teeth and gums. While I do not put first trust in conventional chemical paste and swish methods of attaining or maintaining oral health, I put trust in my dentist's assessment of whether my teeth and gums are healthy.
   If my oral health seems to be suffering I will have to find a new method. If not, huzpaz!

Soundtrack: "No Phone" by Cake

I bring you the second installment of how hippie I am: I don't have a cell phone any more. I have a land line that costs me $10 a month from my internet provider.
   I really enjoy this change. My six year old cell phone died in August last year, making it easier for me to unplug in this way.

Hippie-ki-yay

When I was in 3rd grade, my sister Mona was in 6th grade. A boy in her class saw me in the lunch room and told me I looked like a hippie.
   I went home and asked Mona and my mom "what's a hickey?" [Sic.]
   My mother, suspicious and displeased, asked me why I asked, so I recounted the lunch room encounter. We soon worked out the source of the confusion — or at least, the source of her confusion, because at the end I was still confused about a) what a hickey is b) why looking like a hippie is bad.
   Whether Mona knew a) what a hickey is I can't say. (If she did she (like Mom) wasn't interested in clarifying it for me.) I can say with some confidence, however, that Mona was not confused about b) why looking like a hippie is bad: she was mortified that young Mr. White had found my look remarkable and asked our mother if something couldn't be done about my appearance.

Anyway, here is the first in a potential series of how hippie I am.
   I never use the microwave: All my food is warmed or re-warmed on the stove or in the oven. I have not used the microwave since August 2012.
   I don't have any studies to cite about whether the microwave is bad for your food, but I operate as though it is. (Go ahead. Call me a kook. Or — even better — a cook!) I do believe that avoiding the microwave is a big fat deal in moving away from convenience as the deciding factor in food choices. When convenience is king, health suffers.

In case you were wondering, I received clarification about a) what a hickey is when I was in 5th grade. A girl in my class, Heather Scot, invited all the cool girls into the bathroom and took out a red ink stamp-pad and said let's make ourselves look like we have hickeys. I took the opportunity to ask what a hickey is, and Heather took the opportunity (as I thought she would) to tell me.
   I've also figured out some reasons people might have for b) why looking like a hippie is bad, but Jimmy crack corn.