The Queen of Saline

Do you know how much sodium you’re supposed to be taking in on a daily basis?

I don’t, and I don’t want to find out.

I already know that I’m coming in waaaaay over the limit. Like, way beyond whatever is way beyond the limit. You know how people get busted for DUI, and the police report says that their blood-alcohol level was two-times the legal limit? I’d probably be like that except that I’d be about four basquillion times higher than the legal limit. Lab technicians would throw off their goggles and insist, no, this cannot be. No one could live who ate this much salt. Or to put it another way, I’m sure that if salt were radioactive, they’d rope off my grave like portions of the Nevada desert.

I am a salt fiend. I wash down pretzels with shots of soy sauce. When I cook, I try to tone it down for others, but it’s hard. Never have I eaten anything that I would characterize as too salty, so I don’t really understand what that term means to normal people. "Too salty"? I ... don’t … understand.

I guess I first realized I had a salt thing when I was a kid and saw that episode of “Star Trek” where Bones thinks that blond lady who married his old friend is so nice, but then it turns out she’s this salt-sucking monster that keeps draining all the red shirts of their bodily salts. They keep finding bodies on the ship with weird, red circles on their faces where her sucker-fingers had attached to extract their salt. Totally identified with her. In fact, I used to chase my brother around and try to put my fingers on his face while I made this slurping noise. This usually resulted in his pounding me but good for being super annoying, but this did not lead to a modification in my behavior. Nor did it make a dent in my love of salt.

If you like sweets,there's Christmas and Halloween and Valentine's Day when you can indulge your sweet tooth, but there are no holidays that celebrate the joy of salt. I’m thinking of starting one and calling it Saline-o-ween. It would be in March, of course, because there’s nothing good going on in March anyway, which is why people think that March Madness is an actual, real, month-long holiday like, say, Ramadan. Anyway…anyone so inclined -- grown-ups included -- could go door-to-door and collect things like jerky, bouillon cubes, individual packets of soy sauce, pretzels, and Feta cheese.

So what do you think? Are you with me?

No?

Yeah, it’s all right. I realize massive salt intake is not for everyone, and at times, even I have cut back out of necessity. Once, when I was pregnant, I made the mistake of eating some microwave popcorn (Some? Who am I kidding, I ate the whole bag), and wow, did I ever regret that. After a whole bag of microwave popcorn, it was like I was wearing hip waders that had filled with river water.

Fortunately I have very low blood pressure, but I tell you, if that ever changes and I have to give up salt… Man, they’re gonna pry that box of Kosher salt out my cold dead fingers. Of course at that point I probably won’t need embalming, just a little pepper to make sure I’m well seasoned for the great beyond.

The Well-Organized Oxcen*

Purses. Meh. They’re like these girly yokes we women bear.

Before I had kids I carried a black tri-fold wallet in my back pocket like a guy, which is yet another reason why I should be given Honorary Lesbian status – that and because I like Kate Clinton, Dr. Martens, “Xena: Warrior Princess,” and Home Depot. So whoever’s in charge of that, give her my number, but just make it clear I’m not looking for a long-term thing.

I was forced to start carrying a purse because of one simple reason: children fall down a lot, and thus, they need band-aids. And gum. And sippy cups. And loads of other stuff that doesn’t fit in my back pocket.

Of late I’ve noticed that my purse has been getting heavier and that’s because like all things designed to hold stuff – minivans being another example -- my purse has become a haven for crap. Sometimes I feel as though I am Wile E. Coyote’s mom, toting around anvils and “Bridge Out” signs. I also fear that the seeds of hoarding spread on the wind and land in women’s purses and then we bring them home where they take root and sprout. The next thing you know, you’re featured on A & E.

So I decided that it was time I organized ye olde purse and by organize, I mean dump out the contents and separate the wheat from the chaff. As it says in the bible: “dump ye your purse that ye might find purity.” I did not make that up. It’s in there. It’s in Deuteronomy or something.

So here goes…let the dumping begin.

OK, let’s see what I’ve got in here:
• My God, it’s a coelacanth! I thought those were extinct.
• A Snoopy thumb tack
• A phone charger
• A GPS charger and the soon-to-be-stolen GPS itself. ‘Cause that’s what happens to all GPS systems eventually
• Small rubber turtle and a small rubber bear, both gotten as prizes at the pediatrician and fought over with such vehemence that I had to take them away from the young pugilists who both claimed them
• A box of matches from some bar in Hoboken, NJ
• 3 oz of premium Colombian blow (just checking to see if you’re still reading)
• A matchbox car - I think these just spontaneously appear wherever detritus collects
• An pocket English-Italian dictionary (no idea – must have been daydreaming that day)
• A state vehicle inspection receipt (wondered where that had gone)
• A single crystal from a chandelier
• These compressed tissue things that you’re supposed to add water to and they expand; I bought them because I was sure I’d find some use for them, like prepping for a tracheotomy maybe
• A Mother’s Day coupon written out by my oldest daughter, good for feeding the cat (never did do it – let me tell you, those Mother’s Day coupons aren’t worth the paper they’re written on)
• Two movie ticket stubs from “Star Trek,” May 25, 2009 (LOVE the new Spock, btw)
• A thin black dog collar (Hey, keep your mind out of the gutter. It belongs to a stuffed animal.)
• A small section of carpet (I can only guess that I was attempting to match some paint color to the carpet?)
• Ticket stub from the Liberty Science Center (maybe I got the Hoboken matches at the same time?)
• What looks like cap from a chocolate milk bottle
• The usual collection of band-aids, hand sanitizer, gum wrappers, pennies, pens (broken and non), and no less than 15 devices -- clips and rubber bands -- for pulling my hair back out of my face
• And finally, one kilo of purse dust. You know that stuff. It’s black and gritty and seems to have bits of grass mixed into it.

So there we have it. I am eliminating the above items to make room for 2010’s weird collection o’ stuff. Although I do think I’ll be holding onto the coelacanth.

*Did you know a female ox was called an oxcen? I didn’t. See? This blog is actually educational. Maybe I can apply for a grant or something.