Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Oiled and Ready
News on the fitness front: We finally got another set of wheels, nice skinny ones on an aluminum roadbike frame. Kel’s been wanting a fast sled for a long time and now we can ride together, her on a roadbike and me on an ATB. It’s old, it’s used, and it’s a bit archaic; on the other hand, it’s super clean, feather light, and damn fast. She already handles it very well and we’re looking forward to a lot more jaunts and velocipidations. Plus, it came with a mag trainer, on the rollers of which I have already mounted my old beater bike so I can do some serious resistance cycling training indoors on those rainy nights and early mornings. Yay.
On the down side, this is all going to lead to some sore muscles and tired joints. And that’s good - that’s okay - that shows we’re pushing ourselves, being the best we can be… and thankfully we found balm, or a balm, that seems to suck the ache right out of our flesh. Let’s hear it for Johnson’s Emu Oil! About time, you say, that the international shame of emu-glut was addressed in this ecoconscious, win-win way. Finally, a use for those emus clogging our national byways and flyways. The thing is, it works really well. None of that topical searing/chilling from blue ice or the traditional mentholated linements - it’s just cool and goopy, and then about five minutes later you notice the aching has gone away. It’s a great product, and I also enjoy saying the name: “Johnson’s Emu Oil.” Just rolls off the tongue doesn’t it, euphonious as a murmur. I actually can’t get it out of my mind. That’s not so bad, except I also start switching the words around as I mumble it to myself on my way down the street. “Johnson’s Emu Oil. Johnson’s Oiled Emu. Emu’s Johnson Oil. Emu’s Oiled Johnson. Oiled Emu Johnson.” Needless to say, I hit a mental cul-de-sac and then get stuck there. Stuck with Emu Oil and no place to go. Well, other than the obvious.
To my credit, there’s another commercial name I’m able to invoke to dispel the spell that Johnson’s Emu Oil has cast over me: the EuroWiz. I can’t find a web link for this clever product that my mom gave us for the holidays but the general idea is that it’s two flat wire whisks that connect at a hinge at the bottom of the handle with a spring so they pop apart unless latched together. They’re great for turning frying food, whipping up sauces, stirring thick soups, and a variety of other uses, both culinary and not. There’s a reason why they call it the “Euro-Whiz.” Although any tool with both the words “uro” and “wiz” in the name might not make it into every american kitchen, I’m not going to let a bit of linguistic squeamishness stand in my way. I’m oiled and ready, Johnson. EuroWiz me!