Letter to Duluth Trading, cc:the Universe
Oct. 29th, 2018 10:32 amHello, Duluth folks. I am a huuuuuge fan and have purchased scores of your items, including two pairs of overalls. They are, of course, wonderfully functional in many ways, but like every other pair of overalls in the history of MANkind, they fail women in a fundamental way.
I speak, of course, of the pain-in-the-tuchus of peeing while dressed in overalls.
To pee, one must unfasten one side of the overalls and push them down to one’s knees, being careful not to dunk the free strap into the toilet and preferably not letting it rest on the floor either. There’s an extra amount of rearranging one’s shirt, finding the free hanging strap, and getting fastened back in. And this is to say nothing of when one is wearing layers and must take off, for example, one’s winter coat in order to pee in an outhouse, which is brrrrrrr and yuck in equal measure.
There are devices in the world to help women pee while standing up - basically, funnels to cover the crotch and direct the flow away from the body. Could the lovely Duluth designers and engineers please work on integrating such a device into women’s overalls? A little waterproof pocket with a bit of rubber tubing, easy to detach (for rinsing at a more opportune time) and to fold away when not in use. Oh, and a flap at the crotch to unzip/snap, or the zipper that can start at the top or bottom of the torso. I promise you, we would love it so, so much.
Colleen Campbell, faithful but yearning customer
I speak, of course, of the pain-in-the-tuchus of peeing while dressed in overalls.
To pee, one must unfasten one side of the overalls and push them down to one’s knees, being careful not to dunk the free strap into the toilet and preferably not letting it rest on the floor either. There’s an extra amount of rearranging one’s shirt, finding the free hanging strap, and getting fastened back in. And this is to say nothing of when one is wearing layers and must take off, for example, one’s winter coat in order to pee in an outhouse, which is brrrrrrr and yuck in equal measure.
There are devices in the world to help women pee while standing up - basically, funnels to cover the crotch and direct the flow away from the body. Could the lovely Duluth designers and engineers please work on integrating such a device into women’s overalls? A little waterproof pocket with a bit of rubber tubing, easy to detach (for rinsing at a more opportune time) and to fold away when not in use. Oh, and a flap at the crotch to unzip/snap, or the zipper that can start at the top or bottom of the torso. I promise you, we would love it so, so much.
Colleen Campbell, faithful but yearning customer
An Open Letter to the Lymphatic System
Feb. 10th, 2016 03:29 pmI am so sorry. For almost 20 years, I called you "boring." I was so wrong. You are a tireless and unsung workhorse of the body. The tide that washes us of detritus. The silent mystery underpinning the functionality of all those big obvious clodhopper systems like (bah) muscles and skin.
It is so very hard to know you. You can be detected mostly through your lack of absence: when we are made turgid by too much of you pooling within. Subtly, quiescently, patiently clogging up the gaps we didn't even know we had (let alone needed) until they are gone and something is just, indescribably, not right.
For twenty years, I've practiced massage with little more than an occasional roll of the eyes in your direction. Worse, even, I lauded love and attention on your sister system, the network of fascia that undergirds our every cell and organ. I even ignored the evidence of your importance in the times when myofascial work falls short. Voiceless, you proclaimed all along that when lymph ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
So I will endeavor to make you happy henceforth. Along with myofascial work and Thai massage, you will guide me in correcting dysfunction in the body. I will learn deeper listening than I knew possible, and be the lymph whisperer in return, holding conversations with you like atomic sighs. And sometimes, it seems, those will reverberate within you and come back to me like fireworks and voices of thunder shaking the body awake. I have seen; I know.
Oh, lymph, how glorious you are, how deserving of my fascination and amazement. Nevermore shall I neglect the wonder that is you.
Love, Me
It is so very hard to know you. You can be detected mostly through your lack of absence: when we are made turgid by too much of you pooling within. Subtly, quiescently, patiently clogging up the gaps we didn't even know we had (let alone needed) until they are gone and something is just, indescribably, not right.
For twenty years, I've practiced massage with little more than an occasional roll of the eyes in your direction. Worse, even, I lauded love and attention on your sister system, the network of fascia that undergirds our every cell and organ. I even ignored the evidence of your importance in the times when myofascial work falls short. Voiceless, you proclaimed all along that when lymph ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
So I will endeavor to make you happy henceforth. Along with myofascial work and Thai massage, you will guide me in correcting dysfunction in the body. I will learn deeper listening than I knew possible, and be the lymph whisperer in return, holding conversations with you like atomic sighs. And sometimes, it seems, those will reverberate within you and come back to me like fireworks and voices of thunder shaking the body awake. I have seen; I know.
Oh, lymph, how glorious you are, how deserving of my fascination and amazement. Nevermore shall I neglect the wonder that is you.
Love, Me
Playing with the seasons
Jan. 8th, 2015 02:29 pmI wish I could make screenshots of my thermometers from various points in the last few days. I've been attending closely to the brutal cold, mostly because of how it might affect the greenhouse. Even when the low temp was down to 13 outside, and with no solar energy available to collect, just geothermal energy kept the greenhouse above freezing.
But last night, when it got down to -4, the greenhouse came down to 23 degrees. Oh noes, Cee, will it kill your plants? Maybe; but they're cold-hardy broccoli, leeks, carrots, Asian greens - it's not like I'm trying to grow tomatoes in there - so I'm not rushing in with a space heater, I'm just noting the data. And right now, the temp in there is back up into the 60s - while we're at the today's high of 16.
There's tinkering yet to do - I bet in years to come, I can do even better at trapping the heat - but I believe I have made my point.
Oh, and just because it amuses me: the broccoli was intended purely as an experiment, to teach me when I would need to plant it to get a yield. But now, in January, when it gets a mouthful of sunlight a day, it's producing heads. With salvaged glass and lots of insulation, I have turned the seasons on their ear.
But last night, when it got down to -4, the greenhouse came down to 23 degrees. Oh noes, Cee, will it kill your plants? Maybe; but they're cold-hardy broccoli, leeks, carrots, Asian greens - it's not like I'm trying to grow tomatoes in there - so I'm not rushing in with a space heater, I'm just noting the data. And right now, the temp in there is back up into the 60s - while we're at the today's high of 16.
There's tinkering yet to do - I bet in years to come, I can do even better at trapping the heat - but I believe I have made my point.
Oh, and just because it amuses me: the broccoli was intended purely as an experiment, to teach me when I would need to plant it to get a yield. But now, in January, when it gets a mouthful of sunlight a day, it's producing heads. With salvaged glass and lots of insulation, I have turned the seasons on their ear.
on a musical bender
Sep. 18th, 2009 10:47 amMove along, folks, nothing to see here. ( Unless you care to giggle at my ravings about musicals. )