Tag Archives: sea pearls

Ocean Flo

Caveat emptor: I am going to speak of menses. Briefly. Still, men who are squeamish, who cannot stand to hear the word “period” used outside of a grammatical discussion, who turn pale and sickly when asked to pick up tampons at the drugstore, who mutter “I’m eating, here!” when you mention ovulation at dinner — click away. Come back tomorrow. In the meantime, go peruse the Huffington Post — I hear they have an excellent section on divorce. As for me? I promise to have returned to a benign, uncontroversial topic by tomorrow. Maybe tomatoes. Or even something not red at all.

For the rest of you? It won’t be a lengthy discussion.

First, I wanted to apologize. There’s been a lot of morose mumbling on this blog in the last week. Self-pity, lugubrious reflection, complaints. “I’m so tired!” “My daughter is too messy!” “It’s hard to be home!” Wingewingewingewingewinge. Turns out? All — or nearly all —  PMS. And, as is always the case, with the arrival of — in this case — the sea sponge, the departure of my misery has followed swiftly.

Second, and on the subject of the above-mentioned sponge, I just wanted to say that the jury is in; that thing is spectacular! A resounding success! The greatest thing to come to the female cycle since, I don’t know, Motrin? Except it doesn’t corrode your stomach lining! And, contrary to early indications, it ended up being comfortable — I could walk! I could run! I could swim! I could perform complex and difficult yoga sequences! Not that I did. Haven’t in years. Mostly I just trudged unenthusiastically. Still, it’s the principle.

Best of all? The novelty value. I loved looking at passersby on the street and thinking “I have a sponge in me. Bet you can’t say that.” Of course one or two of them, having had accidents of surgery or what have you, probably could. But no one could say sea sponge. A once living creature of the deep. So mostly I felt very unique.

True, there is the rinsing out factor, which I won’t go into here — lest I lose half of my readership on the spot — but even that small bit of housekeeping is quite simple. Ever squeezed out a dish sponge? Wrung out a mop? Rolled a hand-washed sweater in a towel? Hired a cleaning person to do the same? You’re qualified. And other than that it had everything to recommend it. Delightful! Organic! Green! Free Trade! Totally eccentric! Buy one! Let Neptune be your maxipad!

Now if he could just do something about my mood swings…

Slice of Life: Sponge Barb

FADE IN on a HUSBAND and WIFE, both mid-40’s and slightly disheveled. They are in a large, messy kitchen/dining room area. The floor is littered with toys.

He irons a shirt. She is washing dishes.

WIFE

Oh, I’ve got the sponge thing in, by the way.

HUSBAND

The — sorry?

WIFE

You know. The sea sponge?

HUSBAND (looking alarmed)

Oh. Right. OK, then.

He bends in to his ironing.

WIFE

Don’t you want to know how it is?

HUSBAND

(looks up reluctantly)

Um. How is it?

WIFE

Burns a little, frankly.

HUSBAND

I had a feeling this would go well.

WIFE

But only when I walk.

HUSBAND

That’s something.

WIFE

Hopefully I checked it well enough…

HUSBAND

For —

WIFE

Shell fragments. Apparently that’s a hazard.

HUSBAND

Wow.

WIFE

Coral, too. But it’s supposed to be quite rare.

HUSBAND

Remind me why you’re using these?

WIFE

Because. Regular tampons and pads contain terrible things. Bleach, plastic, hormone disruptors…

HUSBAND

And you need hormones why?

The wife shoots him a disbelieving look. He gazes back at her innocently. There is a beat.

WIFE

I’m going to pray you were kidding. Anyway, these’ll be great. I just have to get used to them.

HUSBAND

Of course.

WIFE

I’ll be one with the earth.

HUSBAND

Yup.

WIFE

Oh, and guess what you use to sterilize them?

HUSBAND

Whoa. To — ?

WIFE

Apple cider vinegar! Isn’t that cool? Or baking soda. Or colloidal silver.

HUSBAND

What is that?

WIFE

(shrugs, reads from instructions)

 “There is no pathogenic organism known that is not killed by colloidal silver in 6 minutes or less.”

HUSBAND

Wow. Would that include me?

WIFE

You’re hilarious.  I need to go deal. I think it’s falling out. Ow. Ouch.

HUSBAND

Soldier on.

The wife leaves, walking strangely. Then she sticks her head back in.

WIFE

You should be proud of me.

HUSBAND

Proud is not the word.

She shoots him a look and goes. Shaking his head, the husband returns to his ironing. We FADE TO BLACK.