Formal Retractions: The Queen of Urea is Crowned!!!

I am in the United States, staying with our very close friends, Jennifer and Edgar (and their 20 month old son, Atticus, and new five week old daughter, Athena). 

At some point during my stay, I mentioned to them Ernesto's living room butchering escapades and the partial role the puma played in my decision to go along with such an unhygenic practice. Jennifer and Edgar responded in shock:  "You have a puma problem?!?"

And earlier they responded with equal surprise at our frequent scorpion sightings. "There was a scorpion crawling on your arm while you slept?  And then on Ernesto's head?????"

And then, when I asked if they'd heard about the exploding mouse under Ernesto's pillow, the truth came out.

"Haven't you been reading the blog?"  I asked.

Jennifer, who thought the exploding mouse reference pertained to the mouse-in-the-oven incident, said  "No!  Not since your first blog post when you failed to give me credit for identifying the true origin of the urine stench eminating from your oven! . . . I think you need to post a formal retraction on the blog!"

Mouse in the oven?  That was so 8 months ago!

Eight months ago or not, let us set the record straight. It was indeed Jennifer who did extensive preliminary online investigating to first suggest that the urine-like smell coming from our oven was most likely the result of mice that had borrowed into our oven insulation - and NOT cats, as I originally thought.  And it was upon Jennifer's findings, and the fact that Jennifer is one of the smartest people I know, that I redirected local inquiries to focus on mice.

It is with great pride that I annouce that Jennifer Avery, Senior V.P. of Shopper Insights (Smart Revenue) and doctoral candidate in Applied Anthopology - as well as a fellow alumna of the University of Miami - is hereby granted an Honorary Doctorate in Mammalian Urinology from "Nuestra Casa en Monteverde University" in recognition of her outstanding diagnosis of our problem and pivotal role in expediting the replacement of our urine-drenched oven.

It is also with great sincerity that I apologize for failing to formally and publically recognize her great gift, for such a gift really should be shared - if not with the whole world - at least with fellow blog readers.  It is my hope that the rest of you will now know whom to turn to in the unfortunate event that you smell urea wafting through your own domestic spheres.

Based on her outstanding achievement, and as the resounding expert on all things urea, I extend to Jennifer a formal and open invitation to serve as official representative and commentator on all future urine-related blog posts.

In fact, it just so happens that this blog post contains a new urine-related story.  And while the following experience might be a bit outside of Jennifer's mammalian focus, she is nonetheless the newly crowned queen of urea, and thus most likely to provide us with some answers to, what still remains, a mystery.  Jennifer, let the formal invitation commence:

Two weeks ago, while lying in bed, I felt something brush against my foot.  Half asleep, I shook my feet, kicked the sheets, and told myself I was likely imagining things.  Some time later, I awoke to release some of my own urine and felt an intense burning on the top of my right foot.  Though dark, I didn't see anything on my foot, and while it burnt, I managed to go back to sleep.  When I woke up in the morning my foot burned  intensely and there was a puss-filled blister, the size of a half-dollar, spread across my foot, just under the toes.  It looked as if someone had spilled hot oil on my foot.  I had to wear flip-flops to work and the Ticos, noticing the blistered skin, asked me if I had burned myself.  After explaining the previous night's events, the locals decided that I had likely been bitten by some type of spider, millipede, or other insect that, while feasting on flesh/blood, proceeds to urinate into the wound, which then causes the burning sensation and puss-filled reaction. 

Gross, gross, gross.

I couldn't wear toe-closed shoes for a week and still have a very noticeable scar.

It is to Jennifer that I turn in hopes of learning which creepy crawly bug in particular was responsible for inflicting such a scar on my previously unblemished foot.

Jennifer, we all eagerly await your thoughts!





(And, for those of you who don't know Jennifer, let me assure you that she wasn't actually offended that I didn't mention her mouse diagnosis.  Rather, I suspect she felt quite guilty for failing to read about the escapades of her dearest, sweetest, most attractive friends, and in a moment of defensive weakness, tried to blame me for her noticeable absence from our blog.  Let us hope, if she finally does read the blog - and this post in particular - that she doesn't boot me from her home or deprive me of her most astounding meals. While she might be an expert in identifying the source of baked-in urea, her true talent lies in other culinary arts.)