What's that stench??? And other stink,..er...stuff.
It's Reece's favorite line. "YyyyUCK! What's that stench?" We're not even sure where he picked up that word, stench, but he sure does toss it around alot. Well, today I had to borrow his line because frankly, I found myself asking this question several times.
It began with a stop at an outhouse. Well, not a real outhouse made of sticks wood. No, sirree. This outhouse was made of bricks. A high-falutin' outhouse. And while it didn't impress me with a two hole greeting like Carl's grandmother's did the first time I saw it, we are talking brick construction and everyone knows brick increases the value by 20% or more (oh, stop pondering the two holer already, would ya? Yes, I'm serious. There were TWO holes side-by-side in the outhouse. Not like you're gonna grab yesterday's news and head out there two by two with your buddy, right? So I'm not sure what the two holer thing was about but admittedly, I was impressed when I saw it. And no, it wasn't in use anymore,...as if...just in case you're wondering about that too).
Now if today's outhouse stop were for me, I would have insisted on testing my bladder to its farthest stretchable limits, because, well,...I just don't do outhouses (port-a-potties, trips into the woods, etc.) This might have something to do with pranks pulled on one another when I worked at a riding stable as a teen. Regardless, anything that requires a honey dipper OTHER than pure honey is just....gross!
But as my kids needed to use the restroom and we feared there wouldn't be easy access to one at the festival we were headed to, we stopped at the brick outhouse. I might add that it sits behind a on old country store and gas station out in the middle of nowhere. I also should add we've stopped at this store before, where Carl commented at the time that the deli counter smelled like rotten eggs ("What's that stench?") and the cashier had probably been employed there for the last sixty years (and two old guys in the corner stared him down with one of those, "Boy, what ch'you doin' in these parts?" looks).
Where was I? Cierah. She has a HUGE fear of port-a-potties. H-U-G-E! And try though I did to reassure her that she wouldn't fall in the hole because A)she wouldn't fit and B)I wouldn't let it happen, she was still petrified. How to convince her that this time there was nothing to fear???
"No, no. This isn't a port-a-potty at all, sweetie. Why, this is a brick glamour twa-lette fit for a queen!"
Her response? Think cat's claws on an angora sweater. My girl dug in and clung like velcro to me as I attempted to peel her off and put her on the unimpressive one holer, all in a 2'x2' space overflowing with STENCH! Well, not literally overflowing, but it might as well have been. In the words of The Grinch,...
Stink!
Stank!
Stunk!
It absolutely reeked in that joint and I might remind you that our family is under the weather right now. Queasiness and overwhelming stench. NOT a good combination. And it took my girl a good five minutes to pick up her nerve and go. Consider this. Five whole minutes in an outhouse.
All together now,.....ewwwwwwwww!!! Just ewwww already. Blech, ick, ewwwwwww!!! The stenchiest.
As for the festival, it was humongous. And, as we "H"'s like to say, "Hunk-o-Gouda." Translation? Cheesy! It was supposed to be an arts and crafts festival but in reality it was about 60% or more flea market Gouda. Oh sure, if you need a hat made out of beer cans, then by all means, skilled craftsmen were on hand. Or perhaps a toucan bird made from an old car tire. Or felt pumpkin hats (elderly ladies were buying and wearing those like it was some kind of right of passage; not sure what that was all about.) Or maybe your pet needs his/her own pet stroller? Or gawdy belt buckles, Frauda handbags, camouflage and flame headwraps (just to name a few), pocket knives with anything from bottom feeding carp to Britney Spears on them, and (to my apparent naive shock) bongs(uh huh, they had those too). Honestly, as "craft fairs" go, I was left wondering, "What's that stench?" For my local peeps, this would be the covered bridge festival. Honestly, I felt like The Bridges of Madison County meets Jeff Foxworthy.
And the icing on the cake came when one of several taroh card toting palm readers approached me and pitched her deal. I think she was offering some kind of two-fer, though I'm still not sure if she meant we could enter her tent for a half off sale or that she'd read my other palm free of charge. Hmmm,....anyhoo, I told her what was on my heart.
"Jesus Christ is the only one who knows my future."
OH. NO. I. DIH-EN'T.
I done shook up her sugar tree. I mean, I got her knickers all in a twist, simply for speaking what was on my heart in the moment.
And she was so not happy I said that.
She took to yelling at me about my being a Christian and, oh my, I don't know what else. I really just tuned her ranting out and kept walking. And her heated response caused me to reflect on how thankful I am, that I don't place faith in lines on my hand or "in the cards" or to a reading of the stars, when I can look to the very one who made the stars (and the lines on my hands) for all the guidance I'll ever need.
And on a final note, Olivia cracked us up yesterday. Before I tell you why, I need to preface her comment with the fact that she loves to read accounts about Harriet Tubman. I think Harriet is a terrific role model; rich faith, bold courage, and sheer determination.
Olivia has read many books about Harriet, seen movies, and even has a doll from Williamsburg whom she named Harriet as well. She just loves "Minty" (a.k.a. Harriet) and will read anything she can get her hands on that has to do with her.
Okay, so! Being homeschooled, my children are not as aware of pop culture as many other children are. They don't know what is "in" in toys, games or tv shows, nor in recording artists or slang terms. They're very outgoing and will strike up a conversation with just about anyone, young or old, but mention something from pop culture and it just is not significant to them at all.
That being said, they love all kinds of music, preferring classical, contemporary Christian or 80's rock (hee hee on that last one). So yesterday, when Bon Jovi's She's A Little Runaway aired on the radio, Olivia very innocently inquired, "Is this song about Harriet?" We laughed for several minutes over that one and she was completely clueless as to why we found it so funny.
UDPATE: And do visit my country blogging friend, Donna, to see what she has to say about a trip down outhouse memory lane.
Toni
19 comments:
I think I'll do an entry about outhouses!
Well now, this brings back memories of my childhood. There was no indoor plumbing until after I was married and put it in my own house. Granted, some out houses were night mares for sure. Even the good ones were BAD. Thanks for the memories............Richard
Well, Toni,
Every year, we briefly consider going to the Covered Bridge festival, but now we don't have to because I feel like I was there...and then some!
Girl, this morning, Mr. Shumway and I were reading your blog on our respective laptops (we may have spotted carpet and a marker-stained couch, but gosh darn it, we have laptops!) Robotface commented that you were on fire...we giggled all the way through this. Well, I giggled, Robotface chuckled a few times. So where is this high fallutin outhouse of which you speak? Is it for sale? Because, as you pointed out, you can't go wrong with an all brick building because of the added value. And the guys in the store? How did you get that deep into "God's country"? I don't blame Cierah for her outhouse fear. My girls are the same way, and deep inside, so am I, although I have to put on a brave face in front of them. And the last part about your kids not knowing about pop culture and loving 80's soft pop music, my kids do too! Why? But actually, since that's what I grew up on, I'm glad.
OK, this is the longest comment in history. But I had to thank you for reminding me that some US Americans don't have maps. Oh, and BTW, our garage-door opener went out on us over a year ago and we've never replaced it, so we DO manually open and close that door! We say it's because we don't have the money to replace it, and while that may be partly true, I think it's that Mr. Shumway plain doesn't want to do it. Go figure.
I avoid port-a-potties as well. Yuck. The newer (dare I say fancier?) ones are bad enough, I can't imagine how bad the old fashioned one was!!
Loved your funny description of the festival, Toni. And I admire that you told that woman the truth! I feel sorry for people like that who don't know "the Way the Truth and the Life." : )
Your posts are so much fun.
Blessings, Becky
Oh boy. This brings back memories. My eldest daughter had a fear of self flushing toilets. She just wouldn't use them and yep, screamed, clung to me and then usually wet her pants ten minutes later when I finally gave up. I miss those days.
Aw, gal, this surely did my heart good! Living in WV as I do, I've seen many outhouses still in use. I must say, a brick one surely is fancy-schmancy! I appreciate the way you witnessed to the fortun-teller, too, and you will be blessed for planting those seeds! That's all we can do--plant seeds, and trust Him to water them and nourish them. Thanks for visiting my blog. Yours has truly blessed me!
Hugs,
Cynthia Robin
I dont blame Cierah
we use to have access to a holiday home when I was a child and it had an outhouse
I never liked it
especially as it had wetas BIG ONES in it
Please note the change of Blog addy
http://my3boysandi.wordpress.com/
You can't imagine how this made me laugh. My grandmother's outhouse had two holes and do you know, I never even wondered about it. But you make a good point. You'd have to be awfully good friends with someone to invite them in with you.
I totally understand her fear. Outhouses scare me to death, too. Even porta potties on golf courses scare me. I need to see clean white porcelain at the bottom on my toilet.
I'm thinking that wasn't rotten eggs he was smelling at that "deli." Oh my word. Gross.
Pone, love the updates as usual. Thanks for getting me started. I posted a video of my flying the plane you like on my blog. Keep up the good work and I'll stop back by later in the week.
Only you could do such a wonderful post on the stench of an outhouse!
What a hilarious blog on outhouses and the festival!! Enjoyed reading it!
I was just telling my husband last night that we needed either a port-a-potty or an outhouse in the backyard. He didn't think it was very funny.
Hey, friend, when are we gonna walk again? I need the exercise and the friend-time, you know? Hey, I just tagged you for a meme. It's a short one. I had fun with it...I hope you do too!!! How's your week going?
Oh, and you might already have it, but I nominated you for an award too.
We have an outhouse in our yard. It's not brick, but it's still schmancy because it has electricity! Yup-- it has a light in it. We are up-and-coming, boy.
And our family is pretty out-of-it, culturally, too, especially when it comes to what's hot on TV. But our boys know almost everything there is to know about 70s rock...
My dad grew up in West Virginia (which means that Cynthia Robin and I are probably related--heh, heh) and had an outhouse. I can still remember visiting the house as a kid and it ws still in operation.
I always think it's funny when people try to 'cutesy' up a portapotty by calling it "honey pot." Just doesn't work. It still stinks.
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