Toity

Toity
Originally uploaded by Tokyorosa

There's the Toity, here in the Casita.

I had never heard the word "toity" until I heard my friend Edward telling some story about his then three-year-old niece needing the toity. (I'm like a million years old now, I think, because that three-year-old must now be in her twenties.)

I took the toity picture a couple of weeks ago because the toity was acting up, being a bad toity, and I was frustrated and wanted to post its picture online perhaps to shame it. Turns out that shaming something that is constantly flushing anyway is not the easiest thing to do.

On the inside lid is a note ("CLOSED PLEASE") that David put there to remind himself and me to close the lid to keep our cat Al from drinking from the toity after our vet said something along the lines of giving our cat access to toity water was roughly akin to allowing him to drink antifreeze-and-absinthe cocktails. Or something. I forget exactly. So unused were we to closing the lid that Dave put up a reminder to do so. (Since we lost Al, the reminder has been removed.)

(And speaking of Al, Dave picked up the poor little nugget's remains this morning. We chose to have him cremated and Dave placed him on the altar next to Groucho's remains.)

I didn't really intend to write about the toity (or Al) though. I really intended to write about the fact that I nearly fainted at the gym today during a training session with the fabulous personal trainer Dorine. Yes, that was me, my dear Gym Boyfriend, a pale, blue-lipped me, lying between the benches with Dave and Dorine bent over me in concern. I blame the back extensions that put me in a face-down position long enough to cause a precipitous drop in blood pressure.

It's one of the few non-drinking times in my life that I've felt like I was going to pass out: Once, a year ago, at the veterinarian oncologist's office where we had taken Groucho; once, about eight years ago, after I gave blood in the library at UNM--which itself was a surreal place to be laying on a stretcher watching the blood drain out of me (I actually did pass out that time); once, while giving blood at United Blood Services; once, today at the gym.

I actually like the feeling of being near or actually passing out. I like that panicked, fading feeling.

Strange, no?

No?

In other strange news, today I got an email from New Guy, the guy I used to work with in Japan, Ben's replacement. He had recently been recruited by the U.S. Border Patrol and was training in Artesia. Then we idly discussed getting together should he come through Albuquerque. Today he wrote that he injured his elbow during training and had to be sent to California for rehab, and when he returns, he'll have to start his training again from day one, which he is not particularly keen on doing.

Oh, and just by way of a general update about my (admittedly minimal) involvement with politics, in addition to being a poll worker this year, I also volunteered to work the phones for the Obama campaign, and I am considering signing up to be an absentee ballot counter watcher (not an actual absentee ballot counter, but someone who watches the votes get counted and reports any potential problems).