The Danger of Weight Loss

Between meetings at church I went to use the restroom and found a turd and some toilet paper floating in the toilet bowl, which normally isn't enough to gross me out, since I've been attending a public university for nearly fifteen years (which, yes, is as sad as it sounds, since I'm not attempting to become a plastic surgeon) and I've come to terms with America's inability to flush after using a public toilet.

I reached forward to flush the toilet, and my wedding ring, which fit fine 35 pounds ago, slid off my finger and into the already-occupied toilet. It didn't fall directly in; rather, it bounced off the seat with a ping and then hopped to the other side of the seat. Three pings later, it plopped into the water, just missing the turd, and settled at the bottom of the bowl.

I stared horrified at the scene before me and contemplated my options. I bought the ring for fifteen dollars at a state fair, so flushing it really wouldn't put a financial strain on us. But the sentimental romantic in me began rolling up my sleeves, knowing what had to be done. I'll spare you the details of what happened next, but after washing my hands and arm in scalding water for the next five minutes, I decided it was time to retire my silver wedding band.

I found the gold ring Laura bought me when I was a young, skinny groom, which I haven't been able to wear for ten years. It fits great, but I think from now on I'll play it safe and just use my foot to flush public toilets.

The Importance of Sharing Childhood Memories

Yesterday, Miles and I somehow got to talking about a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal I had as a child. He had a weird case of the giggles, because what I thought was a rather sentimental and nostalgic memory had him roaring as I explained how Santa brought me a giant Pooh for Christmas, and how I wouldn't let anyone else play with my Pooh, and that Matt got one too so sometimes I would accidentally play with his Pooh instead. I told him how sad I would get when I had to eat dinner without my stuffed friend because my mom wouldn't let me put Pooh on the table. And then I recounted how, after finally growing up, I tried to give my Pooh away, but nobody wanted it.

Tonight, at dinner, Miles asked me to tell him some more about my Pooh, but Laura shut us down pretty quickly. "Your mother used to like Pooh, too" I whispered. "Back when she still had a sense of humor."