Standing in Line
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Posted:Nov 4, 2008 12:18 pm
Last Updated:Nov 4, 2008 9:22 pm
4184 Views
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I've never missed a general election, and today was no different.
I am usually pretty efficient about voting, so I go first thing in the morning, so I can get in and out quickly, then focus on my work (and other things) for the rest of the day, secure in knowing that my franchise has been exercised.
There is a bit of excitement about voting in my house, so there wasn't as much complaining about getting up early and heading to the polls. We were out of the house at 6:50 (we know this because we had planned to be out at 6:45, and we commented about the time when we got in the truck), and at 7:07 we were at the polls.
Apparently, about 100 people had the same idea we did - there was a line all the way into the parking lot. So we waited.
As I stood in line, I thought to myself that I hadn't anticipated a crowd, and I was feeling a bit put out that I had to wait in the cold. Add to it that my partner is still nursing a broken leg (she's better, but still in a 'walking boot' ) , and this is Alaska, in November... and it was cold... it wasn't a pleasant experience.
And then I started thinking about it... and I thought about the thousands of people who have protested and argued... and gone to war and given their lives, just so that we can have representative government. None of those are pleasant experiences, either.
While I was standing in line, the mood was pleasant... almost jovial. People exchanged jokes, and smiled, and sipped coffee they had brought from home (what a good idea... next time). One person told a story about having to wait four hours to vote once. I thought about that while I was standing there... I would have waited four hours. Voting is that important.
So I was a little cold. So it took me a little more time than I thought. My partner was a real trooper, waiting the same time I did, but standing on a broken leg. We honored the sacrifices of those that have fought for our rights.
As it turned out, I was done in 45 minutes. I got my little sticker, that I will wear proudly.
If you're thinking for a moment whether you should vote or not... if you're wondering whether your vote will count... if you're wondering if you'll make a difference... ask yourself this: why are so many people working so hard to make sure that some of us don't vote. Arguments about voter fraud and voter suppression are really just coded discussions about making sure that people that disagree don't cast votes. Sure, your vote isn't the one that decides the election for a candidate... but that isn't the reason to vote, anyway. The reason is to make yours part of the collective voice millions of Americans raise every four years... something we as a nation have been doing for over 230 years.
So, do me a favor, and do yourself a favor - go vote. You can spend the next four years complaining about how you wasted your time.
In our very western, deterministic, scientific-method frame of mind, an election is just a sum of its parts - but if you think about it more holistically, there is a synergy to voting. We do get more out of the exercise than we put it. Every vote counts the same as the vote of all of our neighbors. It is the basic human right that all Americans have. But we, as a society, get more from an election than just our new leaders. We also fulfill the destiny of the world's greatest democracy.
To do that, requires your participation. It doesn't matter if it rains. It doesn't matter if it snows. It doesn't matter if it takes all day (and all night). People before us have sacrificed much more than this, just so we have this choice.
Go vote.
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Intelligent People Could Disagree
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Posted:Nov 3, 2008 5:26 pm
Last Updated:Feb 23, 2009 5:38 pm
5028 Views
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I was born and raised in Washington, DC.
I didn't notice anything unusual about my childhood. The Smithsonian was where you went on a class field trip a couple times a year, and the Kennedy Center is where your high school graduation was. It never occurred to me that in other places didn't go to school with the sons and daughters of senators and congressmen (and women, though less so back then), or regularly share a church with the vice president.
Looking back now, what was notable was that the parents of my friends were patriotic Americans first, senators or congressmen or vice presidents second, and Democrats or Republicans third. The partisan distinctions were important, to be sure, but they really only mattered for a few months every two years.
I was a huge baseball fan as a , and my team, the Washington Senators, moved to Texas in 1971. The following year (1972, an election year), the annual congressional charity baseball game took place at RFK stadium, before an exhibition game between the Mets and the Red Sox. I was just eleven years old at the time, and I was the guest of one of my neighbors, who happened to work on presidential campaigns. We arrived early, and spent time walking through the VIP dining room. Seated at every table were congressmen and senators from almost every state, and from both parties. I met a congressman from Michigan, and had my picture taken with him. Two years later, this congressman, Gerald Ford, became President of the United States. I met the Speaker of the House. I met George McGovern, the Democratic nominee for president. I dozens others.
In an election year, on this particular evening, these men got together to play baseball and watch baseball... They had cocktails and food. They respected each other... but they had day jobs, and their jobs were to debate and craft the direction of the country. They disagreed about how to achieve their goals, but ultimately, they knew that their jobs, first and foremost, were to debate... and that the first ground rule of these political debates were that intelligent people could disagree.
Here we are today, on the eve of an election, thirty-six years later. What has changed is that today, intelligent people can't disagree. The nature of the debate has become such that to disagree is to make you defective. Perhaps it makes you a racist. Perhaps it makes you a radical. Perhaps it makes you a terrorist. Perhaps it makes you a pagan. Perhaps it makes you intolerant. Perhaps it makes you stupid.
Most importantly, it makes you shut up.
I am tired of being made to feel like there is something wrong with me because I disagree with you.
Tomorrow morning, I am going to do something about it. You should, too.
I have decided, I will go and vote, and then I will love you.
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Where Was My Head Today?
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Posted:Oct 30, 2008 9:54 pm
Last Updated:Nov 18, 2008 10:11 am
4289 Views
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Today was a very distracting day... my mind was elsewhere... and it got me in trouble... twice.
I was at the local burrito place, and after lunch I felt the need to return some of the iced tea I had for lunch. I had my sunglasses on... and the restaurant was crowded. I walked into the bathroom, and as I was walking in, a woman behind me says, "Um, excuse me..."
I looked at her, and she smiled... and I looked into the bathroom, and on the door... and there was the sign that said, "Women" on it.
Oops.
Later, I was at the bank, and I was waiting in line, and the floor manager was working one of the windows... I know her rather well... we're on a first name basis... and I noticed from a distance that she had a pendant on that was right down in her cleavage. From a distance, the pendant looked like some sort of halloween ornament... it was orange and black. I am not sure whether the pendant or the cleavage was more compelling to me... but no matter... because when I got to her window, I noticed it wasn't a halloween thing at all. Autumnal, yes. But not a pumpkin. So I blurted out, while staring at her tits, "Oh, that's not a pumpkin!"
Oops.
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Who Names Birds?
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Posted:Oct 21, 2008 10:28 pm
Last Updated:May 24, 2024 10:14 am
4208 Views
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I was just reading an article in The Washington Post about a bird, the bar-tailed godwit, that migrated nonstop from Alaska to New Zealand. It is a fascinating story...
But I got distracted.
What kind of a name is 'godwit'?
Definitely not a 'Merican name. If an American had named it, it would have been a "Curved-nosed asskicker" or something like that.
Obviously, there have been some sane, normal ornithologists. Blackbird. Red-winged blackbird. Bluebird. Raven. Stellar's jay. Here's a name that was obviously inspired in Arkansas: red-necked grebe.
And then there's "Yellow-bellied sapsucker"
Here's the test: get a bird book. Go to a manly bar, and dare someone to open to any page, and read the names of the birds aloud.
See if you don't get your nose curved and ass kicked!
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Chow
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Posted:Oct 21, 2008 10:07 pm
Last Updated:Oct 22, 2008 7:08 pm
4259 Views
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I don't have .
I never wanted .
Actually,
I did once.
But I laid down,
and the feeling went away.
My partner has .
They're really in adults clothing.
One of the has .
The 's spent the weekend with us.
So,
it was off to the store.
To get food for the 's .
Broccoli
and chocolate milk.
And bread,
and ham.
Cereal and regular milk, too.
So as I navigated the aisles,
food for the 's filled the basket.
And then I noticed it.
Froot Loops.
But not the cereal.
Cereal straws.
Adults would call these 'cookies'.
Except they're Froot Loop-colored
and flavored.
I guess they're a guise.
"Drink all your milk, Jenny."
slurppppppppp.
No sugar shortage here.
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The Intangibles
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Posted:Oct 18, 2008 1:16 pm
Last Updated:Nov 8, 2008 11:08 am
4402 Views
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It is Saturday morning, and my usual Saturday ritual is without direction.
My partner and I have made it a habit to take off on most Saturday mornings to get breakfast somewhere. For a long time, we went to a place in midtown, where we found good food and a very friendly server, who was the inspiration for a blog I wrote way back when entitled Sunny Side Up. When we went, we would always try to sit in her section, but even when we didn't (or couldn't), she would always come by and say hello.
Since that time, our favorite server has departed for greener pastures. We hadn't heard that she left... we went a few times and noticed that she was missing... but for all we knew, she was on vacation or something. The strange thing was, the quality of the food seemed to drop, too. The eggs weren't cooked correctly, things would be cold... Nothing else had changed... same owners, same crowd.
After three or four visits, we concluded that our friend had left... but more importantly, we weren't enjoying the food, and we were not enjoying our visits to this particular restaurant. I don't know how or why, but the departure of one server had made a profound difference in the quality of the entire experience... not just the service, but the food, too.
I must say that I am a creature of habit, and that might be a part of it. There is a convenience store that I go to on weekday mornings for coffee... and there is a rather pleasant guy there that I joke around with... and while I don't go out of my way to go there to see HIM, if he didn't make the visit a pleasant experience, I might get my coffee elsewhere.
There's something to be said for being seen as a 'regular'. You don't really get any better service... or at least, you shouldn't. But it is nice to be recognized, and it is nice that you get some value out of your visit that goes beyond just the item you pay for.
Back about fifteen years ago my job took me to Pearl River, LA for an extended work trip. At the time I was living in California, so there was a slight amount of culture shock that I experienced in the five weeks there... but it showed up most interestingly when I would go out to eat. Pearl River isn't very big, so when you stopped in at a place, it only took one or two visits before people started to know who you were.
The most striking thing I noticed was when you left a restaurant (or any other place, for that matter), the server would say, "Y'all come back and see us..." Of course, this is just the bayou way of saying 'please come again', but it was so different from what I was used to that it made an impression on me... and I would suggest that it was subtly but substantively different, though I wasn't sure of that at first. I became sure when I went to a diner in downtown Pearl River. A co-worker and I walked in and sat down. We immediately attracted withering stares from a woman standing behind the counter. The interesting thing was, this woman looked and sounded exactly like one of the women who worked in our Pearl River office...
The woman came to our table, and started quizzing us about who we were - apparently Pearl River doesn't get too many visitors... especially visitors with a distinctive non-bayou accent. When we told her where we worked, her entire countenance changed. It turned out that she was the twin sister of the woman at our office. We went from suspicious carpetbaggers to long-lost relatives in the span of a sentence. And when we left and she said, "Y'all come back and see us..." you could tell that she would have been disappointed if we hadn't.
I think a lot of owners and managers don't look at the intangibles when it comes to marketing their products and services. I hate going to Costco or Sam's Club, because I feel like the relationship part of the experience is stripped out so that customers can save fifty cents on a twenty pound tub of grated cheese. But, at least for me, the whole experience is important. When I go out to eat, I want to enjoy the entire experience. When I go to a store, I'd like to know that there's someone there that wants to help me, if I need it.
After my partner and I realized that our favorite server had bolted from our breakfast haunt, we started looking for a new place to go. We found a place, and immediately liked it... but our second visit was troubling - when there were errors in our order, the server had excuses rather than solutions. The third visit was worse than the second... the food was room temperature, and the service was slow. So today, we're without a breakfast haunt.
A couple of weeks ago I was walking out of the grocery store, and I ran across my wayward server friend. She immediately saw me and ran over and hugged me. I told her how much we missed her, and that we don't go there anymore, since she's not there. She could barely hide her contempt for her former employer... and she thought we were sweet for changing our habits when she left. She told me that she had a new job, and she was working at a different restaurant. Unfortunately, she'd taken a job with a one of the chain restaurants... and as much as I like her, it isn't enough to get me to go eat there. I am glad she's landed on her feet... but finding her didn't solve my problem.
So now I am getting hungry, and it looks like it will be me cooking... which is fine... I like to cook. But in the meantime, my Saturday morning quest continues, for je ne sais...
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Adult Food Finder
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Posted:Oct 15, 2008 11:14 am
Last Updated:Oct 26, 2008 8:29 pm
4368 Views
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Imagine a virtual community where adults who were interested in sharing food could meet and get together...
In that community, there was a place where you could meet and share recipes, trade secrets about the best ways to prepare and eat a meal might be, or just talk about what was most interesting to them.
One of the features of this community is that you could post samples, and others could come and sample them, and make comments.
Unfortunately, some people aren't very good cooks, or don't have very sophisticated palates. You'd check out one of the samples, and find out that it was a Big Mac. The next might be pan fried chicken and mashed potatoes, but it was from "Boston Market", and prepared three weeks ago, and passed from friend to friend until it arrived here. The next ten items from are from the Taco Bell Value Menu. A few would just be catsup packets. You might have to wade through a couple dozen just to find a home-cooked meal. Every once in a while you'd find a gourmet feast.
The good news is, after a short time, you'd figure out who the good cooks were, and you'd go back and visit them over and over. But if you were looking for new, tasty tidbits, you'd have to search far and wide... and in the process, sample a lot of Chicken McNuggets.
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The Buffet
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Posted:Oct 14, 2008 1:23 pm
Last Updated:Nov 8, 2008 11:09 am
4722 Views
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Some friends of mine... actually, one of my friends, wrote a blog where she states her frustration with the conflict between what she wants from A. F. F. and what she finds. Her blog got me thinking about things... and rather than clutter her blog up with my rantings, I thought I would clutter my own.
When it came to intimate relationships, I was a very unhappy . I was clumsy with the gals... and when you combine that with the raging hormones of an adolescent, it led to a lot of angst - for the most part, healthy teenage angst - something that I would grow out of. But it took a while to reconcile the social skills and the sexual desire that I felt for almost any female within a year or two of my age.
When I got older, it slowly got better. The desire was still there, but I became more adept socially... so I could at least get to the point where I had the chance to enter into a dating relationship. But part of the problem was the expectation that I was placing on things. Lets be honest... I wanted sex. Lots of sex. Constant sex. The problem was my mind had created a model that said that in order to have sex, you needed to be in a relationship... and that a relationship implied commitment. So most interactions I had with eligible women had the veiled hope of a relationship.
Perhaps that expectation wasn't so thinly veiled. While I was adept enough to keep the interactions polite, I am sure that most of the women I met knew (perhaps only unconsciously) that I was a pretty needy guy... I was looking for a girlfriend... only because the road to sex led through the necessary step of commitment.
Don't get me wrong... I cared about the women I pursued... but I had trouble separating caring and lust. It is very confusing when you have an excess of one of them, and you're trying to figure out which one is which.
As I got older still, I figured things out well enough to get married, and for a variety of reasons (many of which having to do with me) that didn't work out so well. When things were ending with my ex, and I started to entertain the idea of seeing other people, I had a couple of epiphanies. First, quite by accident, I found out that honesty is by far the best policy. I would meet women, and while I wouldn't lie about my current availability, I wouldn't disclose it either. My expectation was that as soon as I did, I would be treated as a leper, and women would drop me like a hot potato. That didn't happen. The second was, expectation is a huge deterrent to intimacy.
What I mean by this is that if you have an expectation about what someone should be to you, unless they are exactly that, they end up disappointing you. It isn't their fault - you put them in a mental box that either fits or it doesn't... and the more elaborate the expectation, the less likely they are to meet it.
I likened this to going to a restaurant when you're really hungry. If go to a buffet with the expectation that all you want is prime rib, you better hope they have prime rib. If they don't have prime rib, it will hardly matter how delicious everything else is... None of it is prime rib. If they have it, that's great. But because you're so focused on the prime rib, you're going to miss the opportunity to enjoy all the other wonderful dishes they have to offer.
On the other hand, you could go to the restaurant with little expectation. All of the sudden, the possibilities are numerous, and the chances of disappointment are much lower. Don't like the rice pilaf? Get another plate and try the parsley potatoes. Prime rib? Great! Poached salmon? Great! Halibut? I am allergic to halibut. But there's always the prime rib. And cheesecake.
The metaphor isn't perfect. You might think I am suggesting serial promiscuity (which, admittedly, has some appeal). What I am really suggesting is that in order to search, you have to have some idea of what you're looking for (expectation), and by default, a search is serial failure, punctuated with a success. Not only that, if you're focused on the prize (expectation), you might miss the cheesecake.
So what I have done is to stop searching. Instead, I let others find me... and the extent of my effort is to put myself in a position to be found. It isn't a passive process for me. It is just a matter of being open to whatever opportunities arise. Sure, I still send the occasional email. But not because I am searching for someone or something... but because I think that person might be interested in me, and I want her to know I am available. I don't profess my undying love, or my incredible ability to drive her to bliss, or my amazing endowment. All I do is to be as honest as possible, and try to start a dialog.
Everyone I've met from A. F. F. is someone that I've spent time cultivating a friendship. Not everyone has turned out to be a sex partner; heck, not all of them are female! Plenty of them have turned out not to be my cup of tea. But I've not been disappointed, and I am often pleasantly surprised.
So release your preconceived notions. Think outside the box. Abandon your expectations.
Have some cheesecake.
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The Next Logical Step...
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Posted:Oct 7, 2008 10:29 am
Last Updated:Oct 11, 2008 2:01 pm
4366 Views
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Consider these scenarios:
It is Sunday afternoon. Too late for lunch, too early for dinner. You've just finished watching your favorite football team win. The weather outside is terrible.
It is the middle of the night. You wake up. You go to the bathroom. You lie back down, but you can't get to sleep.
You're getting ready for a date. Your date calls, and he/she has to cancel, because they have a nasty case of food poisoning.
You're sitting in front of your television. You're not paying attention. Suddenly you hear the sound coming from the TV: "WHEEL... OF... FORTUNE!!!"
What do these scenarios have in common? In all of these cases, you reach for your remote, and start looking for "Law and Order" reruns. The problem is, you can't find them. You search them all - NBC, TNT, TBS, Bravo, USA, who-knows-where-else. But it isn't not on NOW... but in an hour... there it is. No, I wouldn't rather watch "Larry King Live." Or C-Span (or C-Span 2).
I think it is time for a "Law and Order" channel. No Muss. No Fuss. One click, and it's All Lennie Briscoe, All The Time.
We'd all sleep better.
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The 'Layover' (Or, 'What To Do When You Are Stuck At LAX for Five Hours')
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Posted:Sep 30, 2008 1:09 am
Last Updated:Sep 30, 2008 4:32 pm
4499 Views
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I just returned from the east coast... and my circuitous routing took me through Los Angeles, where I was to spend five hours.
An old friend of mine just recently moved to Los Angeles, so she met me at the airport, and we took a few hours to get some lunch. After lunch (this is where almost all of you are going to go astray), we decided to head to Venice Beach and walk along the strand.
After finding a great parking spot just 50 feet from the sand, we walked out onto the pier. The day was foggy, but there were plenty of surfers and fisherpeople on the pier. I decided I needed to take a leak, so we walked over to the public bathrooms. I have to admit, at this point, I was imagining taking my friend into the restroom and having my way with her... but being the shy and conservative gentleman that I am, I went in alone... But I had not been in there but ten seconds, when I heard the familiar vocalizations of a woman in heat from the adjacent stall... and all this time I was thinking that I was the only pervert on the beach...
We wandered down the beach, and as you head north from the pier, the area gets increasingly commercial, with the beachfront property transitioning from expensive condos to shops and restaurants. I noticed an interesting pattern: the shops alternated between bikinis, funnel cakes and head shops... and the pattern repeated itself all down the beach, with the occasional psychic stand mixed in.
Despite the cloudy and foggy weather, there were plenty of people wandering along the beach. Being from a relatively unpopulated area, the experience of wandering a crowded beach was a bit of a culture shock for me... but it was not totally foreign - I had been to Venice Beach before, so I knew that bikinis and roller blades were the staple of the strand.
It was fun to people watch... but I mentioned to my friend that it was just a bit overwhelming to me. Sure, I like a beach party as much as the next guy, and I did appreciate the scantily clad women (and for the ladies, or the ladies at heart, the men)... But it was a bit much for me.
My friend, being relatively new to LA, was also taking it all in with a bit of a sense of wonder. I mentioned to her that I would have a hard time living there, though... I said, "As much fun as all the sights are, it is a bit like Disneyland - It looks like fun, but ultimately, everything is fake."
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Intimidated Into Silence
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Posted:Sep 16, 2008 12:48 pm
Last Updated:Sep 20, 2008 7:27 am
4282 Views
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I was visiting a friend over the weekend, and in the evening, there were four of us sitting around talking about current events... and in Alaska, almost every sentence in a discussion such as this has the word 'Palin' in it.
I am not inclined to agree with much that Sarah Palin believes. That said, I actually think she's done a pretty good job as governor... if for no other reason than she has taken on both the oil companies and corruption. It is one thing to believe something different than I do... it is another to believe it and be a crook at the same time.
So here I am, in this discussion... and I find myself listening more than talking... and it is a good thing, too... because almost everything that is being said is something that I disagree with. Originally the discussion was about Sarah Palin, but after a while, it turned to the election in general, and about Obama, specifically. Very quickly, what started out as a casual discussion of the day's news became a muddied mess, where there was no distinction between facts and non-facts. Unchallenged, things deteriorated into inflammatory statements, and even tinges of racism. I was outwardly silent... but seething inside.
I am embarrassed by my silence. I should be proud of my beliefs, and stand up for what I believe is right. Certainly I should stand up against lies and dishonesty, and I should call out racism and sexism. But I didn't, and I don't generally... at least, not in a political discussion. The stakes are too high. I don't choose my friends because of their political beliefs, but in situations such as that particular evening, I felt that by entering into a debate risked something more than simply losing an argument.
There was an article in yesterday's Anchorage Daily News about a local radio talk show host who went on the air and gave out the cellphone numbers of several women who were organizing a political rally against Sarah Palin. To quote from the article:
Last week [Eddie] Burke, host of a conservative daily talk show, called rally organizers Charla Sterne and Ilona Bessenyey "socialist, baby-killing maggots," read their on the air and encouraged listeners to call them. The women said their voice mail quickly filled with angry, profane messages, some of them threatening.
Burke later apologized for calling them maggots and said he didn't realize he was giving out personal cell .
[In an effort to present the above quote in context, I invite readers to search the Anchorage Daily News website and read the entire article.]
I am not suggesting that my friends would resort to those kinds of actions to silence someone that disagreed with them. But the social atmosphere is already tense. Political dialog is not encouraged, unless you are part of the monolithic majority.
With nothing at stake in my discussion with friends, and lots to lose, silence was the best course.
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Tattoo Ideas...
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Posted:Sep 10, 2008 11:03 am
Last Updated:Oct 9, 2008 4:44 pm
5039 Views
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I don't want a tattoo.
When you think of things that are permanent, forever, irreversible, tattoos are up there. Tattoos are ahead of marriage on that list, and marriage is too permanent for me, anymore.
The thing is, I don't trust my passions about some image or idea enough to want to live with it every day for the rest of my life. I similarly don't trust a tattoo artist to commit my vision to a freehand drawing on a moving canvas that happens to be my flesh. It isn't about the pain. I am just not that in love with any idea that would move me to etch it into my skin.
Obviously, others don't have my issues with tattoos. I see them every day, and I must admit, some are spectacular. Some are OK. Some, well... lets just say, don't you wish there were do - overs in tattoos?
One day I was getting my hair cut by my most favoritest hair stylist, and the topic of tattoos came up... and I suggested to her that she get a tattoo on her ass that said, "How's my driving?"
And today, I had the idea that a gal (or guy) with the correct mindset might get a tattoo that said, "Best if used by: Today"
Or, a rose might be nice.
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Warming Your Bottom...
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Posted:Sep 9, 2008 4:01 pm
Last Updated:Sep 14, 2008 1:10 pm
4591 Views
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Thanks for clicking on my blog! Ninety-five percent of you are about to be disappointed.
I know very little about plumbing... But I know this... My toilet has been running, and it was causing problems.
The obvious problem is that it was wasting water. But my toilet has a mixing valve in it, delivering both warm and cold water so that when you flush you don't scald the person taking the shower... so the problem wasn't just that I was wasting water, but that I was wasting hot water. To make things worse, the mixing valve was sending more hot water than cold to the toilet... so the toilet was receiving a steady stream of very warm water.
The toilet bowl became a radiator. It was warm to the touch. If you left the bathroom door shut, the room would steam up. When you sat on the toilet, it was strangely soothing for a moment... but then a waft of steam would get you in a sensitive spot. It was a butt-sauna.
It was creepy.
When I was a , I grew up in a place where my family ran the air conditioner all summer, and the cool air would blow on the toilet... and I remember sitting on the seat and thinking that it was VERY cold.
This would have solved that problem.
But, a cold toilet seat wasn't really a problem in the first place, because I don't have air conditioning. I could imagine some early Sunday morning in January, when it is zero degrees outside and snowing, and I need to go to the bathroom... and the toasty warm (and steamy) toilet seat would be welcome... until I got the electric and water bill.
I had to get this thing repaired. I know nothing of plumbing, so I searched the net for toilet repairs... and thank god, there are a ton of websites. The first one had all the information I needed.
So yesterday evening, I went to Wal-Mart and got the proper part... and used the wrong tools, and in about 15 minutes of fidgeting, I had fixed the problem... without causing much of a mess, either!
Some cold windy, night this winter, I'll go into the bathroom and park my butt on the throne, and goose bumps will form on my legs... and I'll think fondly of early September, 2008... when I had my butt-sauna.
Just remember the water bill.
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