Ode To A Commode

Today I purchased a new toilet.  We are having tile laid in the bathroom next week and we've decided the small, cheap, wobbly potty the house came with needs to go.  So after some research and comparison shopping, we decided to go with the Cadillac of Crappers, the Barcalounger of Basins, the Paramount of Privies, the Gem Of Johns:  The American Standard Williamsburg Champion. 

• Capable of flushing 29 golf balls or 200 linear feet of toilet paper, in a single 1.6 gallon, tsunami-esque, Flush Of Doom.
• Chair height for easy perching (so one's legs don't fall asleep whilst reading the Harbor Freight catalog).
• 2-3/8" fully glazed trapway that you could roll a tennis ball through.
• And the whole thing, bowl, tank, and seat all fit in the trunk of the Jetta with the lid closed.  Those Germans know how to build a trunk.
  

Just writing about it brings a tear to my eye and makes me want to leap to my feet and croon the Star Spangled Banner.  In short, we can't wait.  The tile guys are scheduled to come at the end of the week, so I'll have to tear out the old toilet on Wednesday evening, and hopefully I can install the new one on Friday evening.

In other, less hyperbolic news-- last weekend Jakki & I had a great trip down to Moscow for Easter.  After church on Sunday, we (mom & dad included) took a picnic down to the Snake River with the Rigg family and also Don & Renee.  The weather was quite nice, and the food was great.