Monday, December 28, 2009

Failure pie

Between hangin' sheets of Totally Awesome Drywall (4 x 12 half-inch goodness, kids!) I managed to bake some cookies. They were terrible. Like disappointingly awful bad. It was not my fault it was Martha Stewart Baking's fault for putting together a gingerbread recipe with 1 cup of butter and 1.5 cups of sugar. All my little snowflakes gooshed into star-ish things that were paper thin. And too dang sweet.

I couldn't bring myself to actually throw the 2 pans I made away. Instead, I put them in a Tupperware thing and stuck them on a shelf. I forgot about them until I realized I had to make by brother a pumpkin pie. I didn't want to make a crust because one more bloody thing to do at the end of drywalling sounded like the utmost torture. So. Lemons, meet lemonade: I totally made a crust out of those terrible cookies. Like a graham cracker crust but gingersnappy.

It actually worked. I surprised myself when that got turned around into something edible. People, do not use that recipe in that book. Find a better gingerbread recipe. And, um, just so you know that the suggested serving size of Redi-whip lite cream (only 15 calories) is 2 tablespoons--5 g. Each can supposedly has 40 servings in the 198 gram can. Anybody who wants healthy whipped cream from a can should probably not be eating it. I was very angry at the Redi-whip people on the way home from the store. You can even ask tDF and my brother.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Over the salmon hump

After whining about my self-created, nonexistent problem, I finally did something different with all the bloody salmon in my freezer. What finally did it was a delivery of 2 beautiful Meyer lemons to my cubicle by a workmate. I don't live on mars, so we do get citrus here reliably, but it's always, um, rind-y and inconsistent. These lemons were ripe and wholly a different species than what I am used to. And thanks to Peter over at cookblog who suggested making a curry with lemon.

Well, I did that last night with a fillet of Coho/silver salmon caught in mid-August. I made an Indian style curry with onion, garlic, black mustard, cumin, coriander, and lemon peel. I roasted the spices, then ground them up an cooked them in the softened garlic and onion. I stirred in the strips of lemon peel and deglazed with the juice from the lemons and about 2T Ponzu. The salmon was cubed and seared before stirring in the spice mixture. The whole thing was finished with red sea salt. It turned out well if a bit sharp/bright and "pointy" but I think that's the Ponzu. I felt the flavors were all at the top or front or whatever foody term that indicates a lack of depth. I really liked the citrus-spicy-salty flavor with the bits of salmon.

Next time I'll use wine or some wet veggie like tomato or a cream-like substance. I didn't go for coconut milk because I wanted to try something a bit different from my usual curry. (Curries are de rigeur for halibut and rockfish around here.) This will for sure get a go sometime in the near future, with some tweaks.

Also, cubing the salmon and searing it was just different enough to make this dish more interesting. The texture was different, something I never really thought about with salmon because salmon is so very much salmon. The searing and simmering helped keep the fish from becoming tough and overcooked but still had some bits of caramelized flesh that is just so good.

This little foray also pulled me out of an I-hate-everything-drywall-ick-Christmas-is-dumb funk I've been in. I was actually feeling so much better that I cleaned up our little front room and desk area and did some housey paperwork. With the solstice behind me and enjoying salmon again it feels a lot better around here.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Happy Solstice

Solstice didn't matter until I moved to Alaska. I grew up where soccer was a winter sport, fercrynoutloud. Now it matters oh so very much.

These are the darkest days of the year. I tried to capture the sunset at 3:30 pm yesterday, but the shivering kept making the pictures blurry. It turns today, though. Thank goodness, because I'm on full-time cranky mode. Everything feels like such a chore.

Actually the best stretch is from the spring equinox to summer solstice. Twelve hour days just getting longer.

Aaaaaaaaaaaanyway. Take the time to go out and look at the sun, knowing you'll see more of it from now on.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Alaska, for me.

I honestly didn't know what I was getting into when I moved here, in June of 2003. I knew it was a big, dang state. And there were salmon. And it was "dark" for enough of the year that people talked about it. I knew it was an adventure, or at least it would be.

The time between getting a job offer with the federal gov'ment and actually starting said job was about 2 months. Before I was offered a job as a soil scientist in Wrangell I was a recent university grad, working 2-3 jobs, with a boyfriend of 3-ish years. I stepped off the Malaspina on June 20, 2003 a married lady (yes, I am a lady) with a steady, full-time job. Between the job offer (April 1ish) and June 20, I had:
  • Romantically slammed my day planner (Franklin Covey, fo' life) down on the middle seat of my purple, rebuilt 1989 Ford Ranger, demanding that the future husband of mine to "pick a date to get married before I had to report to work on June 20."
  • May 31! Woot.
  • Crabbed that I wasn't proposed to (see above)
  • Was proposed to, in a park somewhere by Arroyo Grande
  • Attended 3 bridal showers all over the great state of California
  • Sold my beloved 1989 ranger that I rebuilt myself after totalling it on 101 in 1999.
  • Put all of my worldly possessions in a huge cargo container parked in the driveway of my future in-laws. This includes my terrible college furniture that I have to this day.
  • Got married, after having my best friend's mom safety-pin me into my grandmother's wedding dress. (A hilarious tale of broken zippers. I call it Broken Promises: Dry cleaners From Hell. look for it nowhere.)
  • Drove up to the Bay Area to watch my brother graduate from High School. Longhorns!
  • Drove to Bellingham, WA to get on the ferry. We stayed in Dunsmuir, CA; Salem, OR and Bellingham at the finest Motel 6's.
look at how young and naive we were.

Watching the tiny town of Wrangell come into view was more peaceful than I imagined. It wasn't surreal, it was too right to be surreal. I was home. The very kind folks at my new work had scrounged up an air mattress and some chairs so we would have someplace to sleep/sit. We unpacked our 1986 brown/tan suburban and went to have the most expensive pizza and pitcher imaginable. Since then, $50+ on pizza and beer has become normal.

The next day all of our stuff arrived. All the glorious garbage we convince ourselves that we need. In boxes. Everywhere. To. This. Day. My husband, the Dirty Fisherman, reminds me how he unpacked the whole house in Wrangell while I was at work. Starting a brand new job and filling out a mountain of paperwork that could only come from Uncle Sam. (Later, I learned to call him Uncle Sugar because he sure was sweet to us.) I think my 4th day I was on a helicopter on the way out to the Madan sale to look at some limestone outcrop that could have Karst features.

That was only a 4 hour excursion in the woods but it was the hardest hiking of my life. I can't begin to describe how difficult it is to move in the woods here as a newbie. It's like slipping every 1.5 steps, sliding back 2, smacking yourself in the face with a branch, wondering how to carry that goldang rifle over your shoulder, trying to understand why you are working up here, and finally seeing a cedar tree so big it would take 5 people to encircle it. That night I was knock-down, drag-out exhausted. I slept like the dead, which was a feat because it was near the solstice and light for 18 glorious hours a day. Hiking in the woods became a right of passage, a puzzle, a sense that I was someone who could move through the woods with aplomb. Every other forest is too easy now, it bears no resemblance to the complex mystery of my temperate rain forest.

I learned how to be married here. That it was ok to yell (as long as the neighbors couldn't hear). That partnership means working together and explaining why you hate/like things. Understanding the difference between roommate issues like the dishes and relationship issues like feelings and family. Knowing why your in laws were laughing at you when you fight with your husband. Learning that halibut bait smells so bad it makes your eyes water but shrimp bait is way, way worse. Finding out that it was ok to be different from your spouse, as long as you talked about it.

I remember the first pile of local shrimp that made their way home. WTF heads? Watching all the others, I learned the proper picking technique. My boss took me out on the water after we had been there about 2 weeks. We could only afford 1 fishing license so tDF got to fish. Pulling the first king salmon of our lives over the rail, dragging the first little slabs of halibut, and opening the crab trap filled my hear with such glee. This was how I eat now. We eat things from the sea, that we catch ourselves. TDF was offered a deck hand position. 20% of the take of a gillnet, longline, crabber boat. We were in, we were tied to the industry. Half of us made our living on the water.

Evenings were spent drinking beer, cleaning shrimp or crab or salmon or halibut. Our freezer filled with little packages of meat. I learned how to cook. Easy dinners: Shrimp pasta in tomato-basil sauce, teriyaki salmon and peas and rice, Halibut enchiladas. More difficult failures like salmon bisque and successes like duck-au-vin. August brought berries like I had never seen. What to do? What to do? It was so new, clean, real.

My little California heart was broken. Then rebuilt. It only feels Alaska now. I am home.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Did you misc me?

Of course not! The interbob is rife with other, more important dilettantes. I have lots of charming things to talk about. Very few are related.

We had our annual Christmas cruise around the sound. The Christmas party really is the best. We sit on a boat for 3 hours and look at whales and nature and mountains. (Pictures will be added later.) It was a BYOB event, we didn't B. I refuse to drink with work mates, I may say something either stupid or mean. Sometimes I may say a stupid/mean thing.

There weren't as many whales as in the past but it was a clear, cold day. Huge rafts of otters watched us motor by. My camera didn't really want to work because it was 22 degrees. A humpback was slapping the water surface, killing fishes to eat. I have never seen anything like it. Oh, and it was catered by the hospital.

Ahem, Alaska is the only place where you can have a Hospital cater your Event. I know when I'm thinking of high quality food items, I think about the hospital. No, I never think about that horrible year that my dad was in and out of the hospital and the jello that came in colors rather than flavors (red or yellow). Or the fact that everything looks steamed. It wasn't bad, but, eh. Hospital Christmas food.

On Sunday, we left for Juneau to shop. The ferry ride was uneventful except it was full of High School Basketball teams and whoa nelly, do they have some energy. They turned the lights out in the forward lounge and because I didn't want to nap at 3:30 pm, I went to the aft lounge. It was more entertaining watching the antics of 14-17 year olds than my book. I forgot what high school was like. Don't miss it.

We lodged at the luxurious Driftwood Motel in a room right next to the lobby. It was very, very loud. And the door on the bathroom hits your knees when you sit on the toilet.

Monday morning we were up at the crack of 8. We read the Juneau Empire over breakfast and howled at the Roughhouse boxing article. You need to read it because of the following quotes:

"Sheakley squeaked the win away from Lauthe despite a smoking habit."

"After trading power on the mat, Willis who said he watched a lot of MMA in preparation for the fight, got Horton, a ten-year friend, into a guillotine and it was over."

"Roberts said he was going to work out more before attempting MMA again. "

Oh gosh. It was funny. Especially since tDF is related to people who are MMA fighters. I am of the opinion that MMA is puerile silliness. We finished breakfast and began spending money.

I do like to shop, but these bursts of extreme shopping make me physically ill. Mostly because we never anticipate how long we will spend in a huge box and forget to bring water and food. We started at Costco at noon and spend a fortune on staples like black beans and butcher paper. Eating a quick hot dog at 230, we left to look at chainsaws for a bit then ended up at Home Depot at about 4. We closed the store and filled 3 shopping carts and 2 of those trolley things. Win.

We started off looking for a hot water heater. They didn't have one in stock and then had to listen to some guy who "knew his water heaters" tell us some stuff. I really hate people who try to sell me stuff without first asking me what my needs are. It's like somebody insisting that you really need this side of beef because it's grass-fed and perfect, but never bothering to find out that you are a Vegan. Same sort of loudmouth insisty crap that makes me so mad. (Oh, the other thing that I hate? When the salesguy tries to sell me some sort of flooring based on looks or the fact that it's made in Italy because I'm a female and can't possibly understand anything else about flooring.)

After we processed that we would have to order a water heater through some other source, we moved on. To ducting, toilets, and tile. We didn't buy a toilet. We spent 3 hours in the tile section. Our intent was to buy tile for a bathroom floor and tub surround. The tub surround didn't happen for 2 reasons: 1. we liked the glass tile but didn't like the $10/sf price. and 2. all the other tile was sort of ugly and boring and white. We don't want another white boring bathroom. The flooring is pretty neat, sort of a sand stone colored porcelain tile. It will look nice in the bathroom, with the white tub and sink. We hope. I don't know, by the time we finally picked out the floor all the fight had gone out of me and I was immensely agreeable to everything.

By this point we had filled up a cart and trolley with tile, grout, lights, and whatnot. We had much more shopping to do! It was a good thing we went to Costco before because I had to go get us some cliff bars and fruit leather to push us through to 9pm. Somehow we filled another cart with blades, bits, $17 sheet rock knives, a texture blower (Hi Di! Finally broke down and bought one!), and lots of painting crap. I even busted out the calculator to figure out the best deal on Killz2 primer. Turns out it was the 2-gallon size at about $12/gallon vs the 5-gallon size which was $15. An associate (or whatever) came over to tell us how to save money by buying the 5-gallon pails. Hoho! Me and my Ti-83 told him. I first told him that we would buy the 5 gallon buckets at the $12/gallon price if it would make him feel better.

I was a bit punchy by then. Especially since tDF decided to ask him how much primer we would need for our house. My patience tank was deficit by that point. Checking out was a delight. Packing in the 18 degree evening was simply a lark. BUT we got that shit done and it's here and unpacked.

Dinner was at the Breeze-in convenience store. The only thing open at 930 that wasn't the deli/grease counter at Fred Meyer. We bought more things at Fred Meyer (It's like a Target, all you without one). We bought some Brown Sauce. I have no idea what it is, but it was in a hilarious movie called Intermission with the beautiful Cillian Murphy. I hope it's no yeast based like Vegemite. Some bad coffee and a stop to fill a tire with air later we are rotting in the Alaska Marine Highway parking lot for our 2:30 am departure of the Malaspina.

The ferry shows movies about every 2 hours or so while underway. Our Movie? Snow dogs. I thought it was going to be the Paul Walker one. But it was Cuba Gooding Jr. is bad at nature in Alaska; OMG hilarious CGI winking dogs voiced by Jim Belushi. This movie was James Coburn's last, a sad fact for our man Flint. The cheeze factor was set to Velveeta and copious. (Kevin, they have it at the library here. Plan on Borbun and Snow dogs. Perhaps we'll make a themed drink?)

Now, home. Working on our steel stair railing. We have justified the purchase of a welder. heh. My life is one, big dollarrhea.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


I have typed the word Chatham at least 750 times today, if not closer to 1,000. My nimble data entry brain started thinking, "What is a Chatham?' SOOOOO

A Chatham is:

a county in North Carolina.

a scenic lighthouse on Vancouver Island.

a landmark royal dock in Maidstone, UK (in Kent?)

Some islands near New Zealand

A British Naval Vessel

And a sub area on the Tongass, where I've been entering data.

The survey brig that accompanied the HMS Discovery's voyage up the west coast of North America (captained by Vancouver). Chatham got it's name because Vancouver wanted to impress William Pitt, earl of Chatham.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Things I think about at meetings

1. Wow. I can't believe the schoolyard antics and petty nonsense from this bunch of sallies.

2. Why do we even have to watch safety videos from 1992. Also, that shot of OSHA woman in the foliage is immensely distracting.

3. How many times can I chew this piece of gum in the next minute...GO!

4. 83.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Northern Exposure Project

Northern Exposure is my favorite tv show of all time. Forever. Period. End of Story. It has been since I was a little hellion living in Sunny Temperate California. I wanted to be Maggie O'Connell when I grew up. All short-haired badass that she was. A wee part of me will admit that I moved to the Greatland because of an early 90's TV show.

I bought all 6 seasons (including the exceptionally dumb Paul Provenza Season) and watch them repeatedly. As a jaded Alaskan now (nobody prays louder than the newly converted) I scoff at parts of the show. SURE, you flew snowmobile parts from Petersburg to Yakutat, Maggie. Um, clearly this girl doing research in Metlakatla would not be on the railbelt to hang out with you, Chris-in-the-morning. Aside from the geographical/ecological stupidity that comes from filming in Washington, they got many things right. The people and the relationships mostly.

So. Because 3 minutes of googling revealed that nobody else has done this (I think) I'm going to recap all 6 glorious seasons of the best show that has ever been on TV (to me). Beginning with the Pilot.

Let's meet Joel. They have written Joel Fleischman, played by Rob Morrow, as "New York Yuppie Jew" against the entire Universe. I have very little experience with folks from the east coast, so I can't adequately judge how close to the mark they are with Joel. All he really needs to do, though, is react to everything around him. He succeeds. The first scene is one that every Alaskan knows well: inside of an airplane stuck next to that guy who just won't shut up. Joel is that guy. See, the only scholarship he could get to attend the illustrious Columbia Medical School was indentured servitude for four years in Alaska. He feels that it won't be so bad because Anchorage has 5 Chinese restaurants. Then he can go back to NYC and become a super-rich Doctor.

For whatever reason, the Anchorage Hospital that Joel was supposed to work at is full, but they are shipping him to the Alaskan Riviera instead. Note: there is no such thing as the Alaskan Riviera in real life. Joel is screaming "breach of contract" and other outraged legal stuff, but ultimately he ends up on a 12-hour bus ride north. Note: Driving that far north on a bus will not land you in a place that is lushly forested as Cicely. The bus dumps him by the side of the road. Joel, sitting dejected on his luggage/golf clubs, looks pretty bad. Since it's 1990 there are pleats on his Seinfeld slacks.

Lo, a truck (appropriately beat up and large) driven by the one and only Ed Chigliak. Ed asks Joel if he's "into Rap" (1990!) and they head off. Ed stops in the middle of the road, gets out and starts walking though the trees because he's home. It's up to Joel to drive to Maurice Minnifield's palatial Log Home Eyesore. Maurice, a former astronaut and current frillionaire, rappels down the side of the building. He is the picture of healthy virility with a checked flannel tucked into jeans belted at his ribcage.

Once cleaned up and inside the log cabin of animal heads and olde timey stuff, Maurice tries to sell Joel on the future of Alaska as a destination. And subtly tells Joel, "I was an Astronaut, son." Joel and Maurice drive into the booming metropolis of Cicely in Maurice's huge, convertible Cadillac. Maurice will not shut up about development opportunities and his media empire (a radio station and newspaper). Note: Radio is a very real part of every Alaskan's life, we live and die by our local stations. They enter Joel's new practice. It's a dilapidated building with peeling paint and animal poop on the floor.

Then we meet Marilyn Whirlwind. I love Marilyn. She nods with a neutral expression to Joel's, "There is no Job!" Oh, she's the receptionist, and always has a tray of whatever Joel needs before he asks.

Joel, now, is completely unhinged. He runs into Holling's Bar (the Brick) to call Anchorage doctor because he doesn't like it and wants to leave. He's stuck! While calling Elaine, his fiancee and legal council, to look at his contract he lets loose a vile deluge of insults about the various rednecks within earshot. Dejected, Joel bellys up to the bar for a Seltzer and an aspirin. Note: Every town in Alaska has the bar everybody goes to. There may be several in a town but there is room for only one in everyone's heart. Holling, wearing a stupid leather vest and bolo tie, gives him club soda. Also, Ed comes by to exposition Maurice and Holling's falling out. Later, an irritated Joel confuses Maggie O'Connell (his landlord) with Maggie O'Connell (a Prostitute). Maggie is a Pilot, not a whore. Like a Pilot with her own plane and everything.

Joel is now home, in a rustic cabin by the lake. And Joel and Maggie Hate Each Other. This will at least be the B-plot, when it's not the A plot, of the entire series. The next morning, Joel is treated to the amazing scenery around him and runs 7 miles into town. To work. Where he again tells Marilyn there is no job. He treats some people, including one beaver (because HAHA Alaskans would take their pet beaver to the doctor) and one couple having marital problems evidenced by stabbings. Mostly, we learn that Joel cares.

Ed wanders in to bring Joel to Maurice. Ed is Maurice's errand boy. Maurice is out on a lake, in a skiff "duck hunting." Mostly, its a clunky way for Maurice to shoot a gun over Joel "I'm a New Yorker badass" Fleischman's head.

Back in Holling's Bar, we learn the following things: Shelly, an 18-year-old beauty queen, left Maurice for 62 year old Holling; Holling and Maurice are no longer friends; and if Joel leaves, there would be a fine of $10,000 and 18 years in jail. Bad news for Joel, he is stuck. He meets this news like a Real Alaskan: by drinking heavily. Plowed, Joel compliments Maggie on her red lips and how pretty, but not great looking, she is. Pretty like Dorothy Hamill. Hungover Joel ends up sleeping at Maggie and Rick's house. Rick is also a pilot who appears without a shirt as often as the script will allow. I guess he is attractive, or at least "attractive." He looks like Gary Cole to me.

FINALLY, we're at some festival. It's realistically named Midsummer Jamboree or whatever. (This is why duck hunting was sort of stupid. Nobody duck hunts in the summer.) All the festivals and get-togethers have somewhat silly names up here, so good for the writers for figuring it out. Maurice emcee's something and shouts, "NORTH TO THE FUTURE!" Which is, sometimes, Alaska's state motto. Joel and Ed eat a Moose burger/caribou dog respectively. We get a fleeting glimpse of Chris-in-the-morning, our favorite philosophizing DJ. Holling and Maurice share a meaningful moment. Aaaand scene.

Honestly, the Pilot is not as interesting as the rest of the series. Over time, the cast hits their stride and we meet a whole host of incredibly interesting minor characters--Adam, anybody? I love this show, especially when it gets better. Also, it realistically portrays Native Alaskan folk as just folks--no real fetishization that I notice. Maybe an Alaska Native has a different perspective? If so, I'd love to hear it.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

My diamond shoes are too tight

Yes. I am going to whine about a problem that is not only a pretend, made-up non-problem but one that I totally created. I have too much damn fish and deer in my freezer.

Specifically too much Salmon. Yes, poor me. We need to be eating Salmon 2-3 times per week and deer at least once, if not twice a week. I am in a food rut. Plus with it getting dark at 3pm, I just want to go to bed at 6:30 and not be finishing dinner.
The deer is less of a problem than the salmon because a deer comes with different cuts that require different cooking--stir fry/stew quality meats, roasts, braises, etc. There is a lot more I can do with deer than with fish simply because it will tolerate different types of heat. Above is the first venison roast of the season--just a paste of rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper, and olive oil.

Salmon, not so much. There are a few ways to cook salmon to change it up. Slow roasting, broiling, pan frying, poaching are pretty good. Adding a sauce or making a fun salad works too. HOWEVER Salmon, no matter what you do with it, always tastes like salmon. It is delicious, don't get me wrong, but there is only so much you can do with it.

I am in a Salmon Rut. There are only so many times per month that my dear, sweet husband will tolerate the miso marinade broiled salmon that I so dearly love. I have tried almost all of my recipes for salmon/trout/steelhead in my cook books and magazines. Everything I find online is a variation on something I already know how to do or have ruled out after trying. Salmon is such a distinctive flavor that most recipes feature the taste of salmon (as they should). Thing is, I am quite tired of the bloody stuff but I still have to prepare/eat it because it is in my freezer and that's what you do up here.

Have you noticed that I am moody? I have tripped at least 3 times today and confused Apple Computers with Toyotas. (But they're kind of the same, right?) I should be baking too because starchy sugar-fat is awesome. All I really want to do is go split firewood with a heavy maul.

No salmon tonight. That will have to wait until Friday/Saturday. Tonight is pepper steak stroganoff.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Groaners on my mind

I know the house-related ravings are less popular with my 5 readers than the Alaska/food ones. But Blogs are for we narcissistic delusionals who think someone cares about what we think. Lately, I've been thinking about toilets. Or Groaners, which some neighbor/friend calls them. No, I haven't been spending an exceptional amount of time on/in front of them. I just have to buy two in the near future and I want to make a good choice.

Our current toilet sweats like Whitney Houston due to the glacial meltwater that is our residential water source and the fact that we actually heat our house. We laughed, LAUGHED at the people who suggested getting an insulated tank to prevent a toilet from soaking the floor and walls. Now, we are stuck with a sweaty toilet that cost too much due to a reduced rough-in. (Standard toilet rough-in distance is 12 inches. The more you know.)

Also, we will not buy a super-cheap toilet because those do not have glazed traps. You know what you get with an unglazed trap? Way, way more clogs. That is not a pleasant situation. So, here we are. In need of two toilets that will flush the unpleasantness away and will stay cool as a southern belle. Not a tall order.

Except. Did you know toilets can have style? I did not know they could. And they can be even described as cute.
Ok, that is a freaking cute toilet. It's a Toto Aquia Dual Flush with DualMAX(tm) flushing technology. (The only thing stranger than toilet techno-terms are tooth brush ones.) Toto toilets have some of the best flushing per gallon of water used around. Plus you can make all sorts of Wizard of Oz jokes. Unfortunately, this toilet costs like $340 in America so it would cost us at least $450 here in super-remote America.

You can have a sleek, modern, Stark terlet too:
This guy designed our bathtub. I can't get behind (her her) a wall-hung toilet. Too many potential problems. BUT you could clean your bathroom with a fire hose if you install one and none of that weird toilet-ick that tends to accumulate around the base of one.

You can buy a groaner with classical details. This is the Devonshire comfort height toilet by Kohler.Look, it's practically a Doric Column. You just need a life size statuette of David and some brass trim and you have a class-ay bathroom. Also, I really don't want anything in my house in the "Comfort Height" category. Blah Blah easy to sit on for olds. Comfort is one of those words that people use instead of better words. Plus "rest stops" are sometimes called "Comfort Areas" when it's a bunch of crappers for people and a horrible dirt patch that functions as a crapper for dogs.

Oh, and the only ONLY choice for bathroom fixtures like tubs or toilets is white. None of that crazy pink or tourqoise. No. It is ugly and we will all make fun of you.