Recently, I had a first hand experience in the field of Rheology that turned rather exciting.

For the uninitiated, Rheology is the name for a rather large field in Materials Science. To wit, the study of the flow of matter, be it liquid or deformation of solids. Rheology encompasses a broad range of materials from the liquid state through soft solids and even solids under conditions in which they respond with plastic flow rather than deforming elastically in response to an applied force.

The stuff of muds, suspensions, polymers, food stuffs, additives, biological materials and fluids is the domain of Applied Rheology. How to handle a gooey material flowing through plumbing and out a spigot or rectangular slit is the challenge faced by animals and the manufacturer's of fast food snacks, caulking, glue and wallboard panels.

The material flow properties of all of the above bear remarkable similarities to each other. In the case of wallboard paste, just a few subtle changes in chemistry, change the baking temperature, along with a pinch of radioactive orange dye will yield Cheetos.

As a wise man once said; if you like sausage, excitement born from revulsion is best avoided by not watching how it's made. Or how it feels.

My encounter began on a Sunday morning, staring at a somewhat ripe banana upon the kitchen counter. Should I toss it or take it with me to munch for Breakfast while taking a long walk through a nearby park that lay within walking distance?

Hmm, banana looks too ripe to hold. Solution, cut banana in half and place it into a heavy duty Ziploc sandwich bag. I grabbed not one, but two bags as I've learned over the years, a man should always have an extra plastic baggy to hold things. Like dog biscuits, which there were none in my pantry.

Note to self, buy more dog biscuits at the store this afternoon.

Sliced banana placed in a Ziploc sandwich bag, placed along with empty Ziploc destined for dog biscuits in the over sized left pocket of my trusty, pullover jacket and head out.

A pleasant stroll along a park pathway. Approaching me from the opposite direction was a neighbor by the name of Janice Quimbly, walking her large golden doodle on a windup leash. A mashup of Poodle and Labrador named Bumby.

Waving at me from afar, I patiently awaited their arrival with mild dread. For Janice is a rather talkative individual. And her mutt is somewhat overly friendly. As expected, said Being proceeded to rear up, place muddy paws upon my shoulders and began slurping friendly hellos.

The dog, not Janice. Will you readers quit smirking!

All the while Janice chatted about a nearby house being torn down to make way for a McMansion, Bumby stood down and began nosing through my left coat pocket where the banana lay.

"It's a shame what they did to old Bill's house..."

Janice's gossip circled around us like confetti, oblivious to Bumby's clumsy attempts at canine pick-pocketing. My left hand, an army of one, frantically defending the left pocket Keep from a battering ram of muzzle intent on breaking in and liberating a sandwich bag of banana.

"It's a shame as well." Came my relieved reply when Bumby broke off the attempt to dog nap my banana and give it a permanent home within said canine. He sidled over a foot or so onto the park walkway.

"Well you know developers, they always do things on the cheap. Why on Holly street they even..." Janice paused her monologue. "Bumby!" She exclaimed. "Not on the sidewalk!"

Too late, Bumby was occupied doing what dogs often do. Hunched over and carefully placing a deposit of dog doo upon the sidewalk.

"Oh no! I forgot my poop bags! I've been fined already this month." Janice glanced around, worried that a county parks employee would pop out of the bushes and begin issuing a ticket for failing to pickup dog droppings.

"Never fear Janice," I said, "I have the solution."

Reaching into my coat pocket, I extracted the empty Ziploc bag. Expertly turning the bag inside out. With a swift, well practiced motion from born from long exposure to picking up after dogs; a plastic baggy insulated hand scooping up the Rheologically challenging material off of the sidewalk. Skillfully, I stood up, hand withdrawn, bag expertly inverted with payload sealed with the zip lock seal in one easy motion.

"Well done!" Janice exclaimed.

I bowed, just as my cellphone rang. Janice decided to head off. "Thank you! There's a trash can nearby! Good bye!"

Janice and Bumby continued on their way. Even amongst dog people; few volunteer to take the dreaded bag.

Holding an uncomfortably warm bag in the left hand, I multi tasked navigating to the trashcan while answering a cellphone with my right. My sister. My focus distracted by a sibling expressing her rage over a Window's desktop machine.

Cursed is the lot for those technically inclined. For they will be dragooned into being Tech Support for family members.

As I stood over the can with the bag, the crescendo of the conversation rose to a torrent of testy reply, shrill counter reply. All from a Microsoft update attempting to trick her into clicking yes to 'upgrade' her machine to Windows 10.

Grimacing I waved my empty left hand about, emphasizing she should not click yes. Please shut down updates and let me come over to install a script that will remove those cursed update files masquerading as malware.

By then I had reached the park entrance with rising blood pressure and an unsatisfied 'client' on the other end of the phone network, my sister agreed and signed off. Sighing, my quiet Sunday afternoon shot. Before driving over to her condominium, I'd best be on my way back home to fetch a few things.

At home, jacket hung up in the closet. Into the kitchen to brew some coffee. Cup in hand, taking a needed shot of caffeine to help steel my resolve for the inevitable struggle with my sister's PC.

Count to ten, came my mantra, be calm with your sibling. Ignore the rolling eyes and needling voice of those willfully ignorant of 21st century machines intentionally broken in design to not help you in the first place. Sip more coffee. Say Ohm, the resister kind, to keep your blood pressure in the green zone. Again. Ohmmmmm.

Calm prevailed once again. Time to pack a sack with various software tools, head to the closet and put on the jacket. Like a ferry boat heading to a familiar slip, my left hand docked into the left pocket and...

...there came forth the sensation of a yielding plastic bag emitting...

Memories flooding back. Not long ago, I worked at a dog kennel. In the outdoor yards was a knee high garbage can, where you took the scoop laden with what sixty or more dogs leave behind. On an icy winter day, two trips were needed. On the second, I stood over the nearly full can, in a yard with ice patches, cryogenic wind howling like Fenrir looming over you. My feet slipped on the ice! The scoop went one way, my body tipping over, left hand outstretched to break my fall and in it went.

Right into the open garbage can filled with fresh dog doo. Fingers instinctively clenched, sickly sensation of the unique Rheology of dog poop oozing forth....

...Meanwhile in the Present, came that same sensation of a Ziploc bag in my coat pocket popping open like a Pillsbury dough roll, material flooding over my fingers!

Ewwwww! Then came a scent rudely poking into my nostrils! Scent of...

...over ripe banana.

Three reactions.

Immense relief that I had indeed tossed that bag of dog doo donated by Bumby into the trash can and not accidentally taken it home with me.

Second, a rising sense of horror. From realizing there is little difference between the flow properties of dog doo and an overripe banana.

Third, I now have a messy jacket pocket lined with smooshed banana.

Rheology of dog doo and banana. Two materials with identical properties that I've had first hand experience in dealing with.