In 2003, I did several things for the first time.

I bought my first-ever toilet.

		Seldom Seem, David Templeton's whimsical perspective on life and times in and around Washington County, appears weekly in Washington Sunday.

I cleaned my desk thoroughly with first-time determination to keep it clean.

And, yes, I baked my first-ever all-American apple pie with tasteful success not even I would have anticipated.

Can a year get any better than that?

Well, of course it could. I'm still not rich. I'm still not handsome. I'm still vertically challenged and horizontally unchallenged. And my hair still is orange.

Other than that, it was one interesting year.

That's because I wrote about a lost tortoise, a rescued owl, a recaptured pea hen, a champion bull, a couch-potato bobcat and cold cardinals.

I had my car, Chili Bean, washed at the ARC center detail shop. I interviewed a mine rescue team, the Four Townsmen, a 74-year-old marathoner and the bloody-minded genius behind TerrorMania.

I searched for Hopalong Cassidy in Hopewell and marveled at a camouflaged couple married in Gander Mountain. I talked history with Native Americans and Meadowcroft officials, and even tossed an atlatl. I discussed religion with Mennonites and wrote about a teacher who built a river, a columnist who gives career advice and an artist with plans for a World Trade Center memorial.

My attention also focused on a reconditioned trestle, a rooftop garden and the world-record size skateboard, And other topics included bricks, toboggans, jailhouse ghosts, e-mail scams and spray-on tans.

But in an era dominated by terrorism, war, natural disasters, political strife and serious power outages -- and I'm referring here to my personal life -- there were several notable accomplishments and but one minor setback.

The only downside in 2003 was learning from Canonsburg Hospital sleep experts that I suffer from excessive nighttime vibration of the uvula and the soft palate tissue. That's to say, I snore a bit.

But now for my 2003 accomplishments.

Patty Kreamer, an organizational expert from Green Tree, came to our bureau office in November to undertake the organizational equivalent of climbing Mount Everest, swimming the English Channel and crossing the Sahara Desert without a camel.

Patty's mighty challenge was to help messy Dave organize his desk, which resembled the grand ballroom after the National Pig and Sow Convention. My desk had its own ecosystem -- flora and fauna, storm clouds and geological instabilities that often quaked and produced landslides.

So Patty organized my desk drawers so I easily could find files. She encouraged me to purge, and I did so with the determination of a bulimic. I hauled nine large wastebaskets of papers, tablets and junk to the Dumpster.

And for those who think I've returned to my messy ways, think again, infidel. My desk remains immaculate. In a brief instant before I leave work each night, I put everything in its designated locale. Files go in racks. Pens go in holders. Papers go into files. Concerns about disorder go into oblivion.

My desk now could serve as a helipad.

Who said you can't teach old curs new tricks?

To celebrate the 20th annual Apple Festival in Hickory in October, festival officials held a pie-baking competition. I used the opportunity to write about my mother-in-law, Bonnie Paxton, of Rainsburg, Bedford County, who bakes the world's best apple pies. As I noted, speaking with Bonnie was like Simple Simon meeting Pie Woman. I was clueless.

But I jotted down her recipe and followed it closely to bake three worthy pies. It was an effort that left the kitchen looking as though a flour mill had exploded. I entered my best pie in the men's competition. OK, it was a joke rather than serious challenge.

But in the men's division, my Bonnie-inspired apple pie earned second place honors for taste among eight entries. Not bad for a rookie pie guy.

My cheeks grew apple red with pride. Boy, did I brag, and the bragging will continue into the new year and for the rest of my life. It's the first entry in my new resum?.

It also sent my wife, Suellen, scrambling to bake pumpkin pies with better crust than mine. But she couldn't beat her crustacean husband. If I were the eighth dwarf, I'd be Crusty.

But the most interesting aftermath to a story involved one I wrote Nov. 23 about buying my first new toilet.

During that go round, I used all the puns I could muster. I mentioned how buying a toilet is no easy undertaking -- no pun intended. How, while looking at all the toilet choices, I grew flush with my mind swirling. Puns intended.

I bemoaned the fact I could not take a test drive. In the end -- no pun intended -- we purchased a Kohler Co. toilet, made by the largest domestic producer of toilets. The handsome white toilet uses only 1.6 gallons of water per flush and accomplishes that task better than our old 3.5 gallon-per-flush toilet ever did.

But the Nov. 23 column drew response from Kohler's competitor, American Standard.

Apparently American Standard had sent an e-mail to a Post-Gazette editor in October offering a test drive of its new Champion toilet. The company offered to install the toilet permanently in a charitable organization's bathroom and provide a reporter or columnist a test drive.

So last week, I received this response from Sara N. Blood, a media relations specialist for Carmichael Lynch Spong, which represents American Standard:

"Thank you for drawing attention to the subject of choosing a new toilet," she said, noting disappointment that we did not test drive the American Standard Champion. "While you were able to find a replacement toilet for your home, our offer to test drive the American Standard Champion model still stands."

Blood said the company still is willing to install a Champion toilet in a home for children, a homeless shelter or a school of my choosing "for the purpose of seeing the Champion in action."

Now that would be classy: "Hey, everyone, I'm done. Now let's see if it flushes."

Blood said the toilet had generated impressive results in independent flush-quantity tests. In the company's own tests, the Champion made 29 golf balls disappear in a single flush.

Wow, and I didn't even know people ate golf balls whole.

So that's where the issue and offer sits. I don't doubt the American Standard Champion is an excellent toilet. But for now, I have no intention of parking on a Champion and filling it with golf balls.

But it does bring fitting conclusion to a year that's almost in the porcelain tank, as the year drains away in a swirl of controversy.

Puns intended.