Number 1 or Number 2

They say that the central room of the home is the kitchen. It's almost always a place of congregation, where memories are made and stories told. Its a feeding place for the stomach as well as the soul. Some of my earliest memories are of making perogies and twiddlebugs with my baba, and pie crust cookies with my mom. Our farm house is pretty much all kitchen, the first floor anyway. A huge table that seats 8 has a prominent place, around which almost everyone gathers. When company comes over, its like a magnet that pulls you in. Immediately and without invitation we gather around the kitchen table. Of course if you come to our house, you will get fed, so it's probably a ritual of convenience as well as comfort.

I have a lot of great kitchen memories. I also, however, seem to have a lot of bathroom memories too. I have spent much of my life in the bathroom. I can describe in great detail the 3 our farm house has. The flimsy plastic seat of the downstairs toilet; distinct hum of the vertical lights around the mirror of the upstairs bathroom; the oddly sounding whir from the plastic covered fan in the kitchen bathroom that has been that way for 25 years. You can have a conversation thru the vents of the upstairs and downstairs bathroom, like a homemade telephone with cans and string. Our house has only one water heater, so if you're in the shower, no toilets can be flushed. There is usually a lack of toilet paper in at least one, to which the correct response is to yell "I need more toilet paper" at the top of your lungs and hopefully someone will run to the basement to get you some. (you are now aware of protocol for your next visit) The downstairs bathroom doesn't have a lock on the door, so for privacy, just open the top drawer, it works just fine. Behind the door of the upstairs bathroom was always a good spot for hide and seek. The open door provides just enough of a crack so you can see if the coast is clear to run out and claim "home free." Once, we played photo lab in the bathroom. We took all the pages out of our color by number book and soaked them in the tub. Then we tied strings from the shower curtain rod and used clothes pins to hang our "photo's" to dry. As kids, my cousin and I used to make "potions" in the toilet. This was a game played at my baba's house. It usually consisted of both him and I going number 2, one after another, same toilet, and then depositing various bathroom essentials in said toilet before "mixing the potion." A squeeze or two of toothpaste, some aspirin, a splash of mouthwash, a dash of shampoo, spritz of perfume, and then the grande finale plop and fizz of some Eno or Polident before sending our concoction off with the flourish of a hand and flush of the handle. I can remember using dish soap for a bubble bath. (probably used up all the bubble bath making a potion) Once, when I was 10 or so, we were driving back from Edmonton in our 80's van. I'm not sure where we were going, but we were running late. (a common occurrence in our family) I had to go to the bathroom really bad. There was no time to stop. My mother handed me an empty super big gulp cup and some Kleenex. And you better believe I squatted over that cup in the back of our van, careening at warp speed down the highway, and did my business. We deposited said business in a paper bag and threw it out the window. The first time I saw Jaws on TV I was afraid to use the toilet afterwards. The logic of a shark coming up thru the toilet to attack me had not crossed my mind, let alone the fact that the closest ocean was 3000 miles away!! When I was 10 I peed my pants in dance class. We were rehearsing our jazz number, Mr. Lee, for competition and I had to pee really bad. Our teacher was a crotchety lady at the best of times, having the warmth of a blizzard and compassion of a vulture. I was afraid to ask. Looking back, the wrath of asking to use the bathroom would have been less embarrassing than tiptoeing across the floor, hands covering the crotch of my warm and soggy sweatpants. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Dear Diary, I wonder why I can't pee in public!