I just read my last post. Wow.
I would like to be a writer. I've talked of that in this space before. I would like my writing to inspire people to dream. I want individuals to be deeply changed after reading what I put before them. I desire for people to see the image of God, the creator of the universe, shining through the words that I put together.
So I wrote about poop.
That's an inspiring, life-changing, never-be-the-same kind of topic, isn't it?
I have found myself working long hours lately and I come home very tired. I have dinner, play with the kids for a short time and put them to bed. I seem to be constantly thinking about things I need to do at work. I seem to have lost some humor somewhere along the way. I don't wonder about things. I don't play much and when I do, I feel a little guilty about it. I don't think I laugh as easily as I once did.
I think I need more poop stories in my life. I need to have rambling conversations with my four year old boy. I need to tickle my daughter until she gives up that deep, belly laugh that starts somewhere near the center of the earth. I need to play basketball and talk trash with my ten year old son.
I have seen it happen in people around me. I have worried about it happening to me. There comes a time when poop stories aren't funny anymore. (As I understand it, poop stories aren't ever very funny to the female portion of the population. That's a separate post.) I don't want to get there. I want to laugh about things that might be slightly inappropriate for an adult to laugh at. I want to have the joy and imagination of a four year old who thinks that something is trying to escape his body and is prevented from escaping by other things that will eventually try to escape in their time.
We have to laugh. If we don't laugh, life becomes a drudgery and a duty. Jesus said He came to give life and life abundantly. I believe that includes laughter. I need some more laughter these days.
Got any good poop stories?
Peace.
1 comment:
Did you just ask if I had any good poop stories?
Oh boy oh boy oh boy. As a matter of fact, I doo.
In order to get my body back in shape to run another marathon, I have started running more and have altered my diet in hopes of losing some weight. (It's a lot easier running while carrying 160 lbs. on the body than it is carrying 180 lbs.) However, the increased running and modified diet have collided recently to produce some runs within runs.
Just this past week, I had a first. I have been itching to tell someone about it, but really never felt comfortable bringing up such a taboo tale. Little did I know that within days of such incident, someone would be asking me if I had a poop story to tell. I guess I should take advantage of this opportunity to share what really happened to me on the morning of May 13th.
I was out running early in the morning and was two miles from home when this overwhelming sensation came over me from out of nowhere and I immediately recognized my need to take a pit stop. At the time, I was in Cosmo Park and instantly knew where all of the port-o-potties were as I devised a strategy to get to the nearest one as fast as my fat legs would carry me.
In two minutes, I had arrived at such a plastic oasis and was relieved that everything had been held in up at that point.
(WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! What follows will be a very graphic portrayal of a pooping episode and if you find such things disgusting or unedifying, I strongly advise you to NOT read the rest of this comment.)
First observation upon sitting on the toilet in the port-o-potty was that there is no standard size for these things. I was in one of the smaller ones where your knees and forehead are pretty much touching the door. I didn't mind as I was about to unleash an awful lot of stuff from my nether regions and I wasn't about to complain about the overall comfort of the commode. I also don't concern myself with germs and the like as I plunked down a bit frantically onto the cold plastic as my sphincter unlocked. I felt that oh-so-sweet relief as the poop began exiting my body. Uh oh. Within seconds, I realized something was wrong. Where was the tell-tale splash? Was it possible that a three-foot turd had stayed intact and not yet succumbed to gravity by breaking off? I better cut it off. Still no sound. Now this wasn't an outhouse in the woods where some septic tank was located miles below the toilet hole, this was your typical Johnny-on-the-spot where you were pooping into a tank a couple of feet below you and would most certainly hear every splish and every splash of your bathroom experience. I know poop had been expelled from my anus (no denying the instant relief), but no sound accompanied such poop upon its descent into the blue waters of the unit. Could it have perhaps quietly slid in at an angle (crooked poop?) as an alligator stealthily enters water when hunting prey? Then I had another realization. Surely not!
I stood up and turned around for visual confirmation. It was true. I MISSED! In my 37 years of living, I can proudly say that I have never missed when going number 2, but that streak came to a stinky end as a rather large turd malevolently rested on the back of the toilet lid. If a turd could have a facial expression, this one had a crooked grin on its dark brown face as it mocked me from its oval pedestal. I quickly took as much toilet paper as I could find to properly insulate my hand as I brushed the turd over the edge to its ultimate resting place. The splash was a welcome sound to my ears. Thankfully, plenty of toilet paper remained as there was a good deal of wiping down that occurred (both on the toilet seat and my very own backside) before this incident was concluded to my satisfaction.
Funny note: I was running with a good friend of mine the following day and he ended up using the same port-o-potty on our run. I never told him about my experience in there the day before. I was too embarrassed.
Lesson learned: even when sitting completely on the toilet lid, it is possible to miss when taking a dump. Perhaps I'll mention that to my wife the next time she complains of number one splatter all around a toilet in our home. ("If you don't have good aim, then sit down when you pee!") Then again, maybe not.
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