Outhouses

This was a weekend of outhouses I suppose. Friday I dropped the wife and kids off at a park with their friends and I went and got a haircut. Then I had the major decision to make, go back and play with the kids or shop for a while until they were done. Surprisingly I went back to the park. Silly me. I was being goalie and playing soccer with a bunch of kids when I made an awesome save. Unfortunately the County provided goals were suspect and the friggin crossbar fell on the back of my neck. Well this hundred pound steel pole staggered me until I realized what it was. I managed to pull it off my spine and jam it back into place. So I gimped over to the wife and told her I was ready to go. A night with the heating pad and I seemed to be back to normal.

Also at the park, all of you that were worried about me sheltering my kids by homeschooling them would have finally been justified. One of my little darling daughters went into the County provided Portajohn. After finishing her business, she washed her hands with the soap. That ain't soap. Urinal cake maybe, not soap. After half a bottle of antibacterial hand soap, she was as good as new. See by having a job and being a little high maintenance myself, I have sheltered my children. I have sheltered them from using portable toilets and thus have scarred her little soul. Or at least given me the creeps. Needless to say, I wore those hands out with the soap at bath time.

So Saturday I spent making my yard look like a park again. Cutting grass (actually the boy did that) and weed eating, picking weeds and crab grass, trimming bushes and shrubs and taking stuff to the dump. AND waiting for Nosaj to come home from visiting relatives at the zoo. He bragged about his super, duper, greatest ever, new boards. He decided it was best not to play against me and waited until dark to come home. Weak.

Then Sunday brought apple picking. I drove the brood further out into the country past many orchards to get to the very one that 100,000,000,000 other people decided to go to. So went with our friends that own a farm. Once I spent two hundred dollars on fast food for a picnic out there and navigate the mountain and setup camp and steal a couple picking poles, ole farmer tells me he can get us apples real cheap by the bushel. So I am here for what, exactly?? Oh the experience. The experience fell during a Redskin game people. Is this not America?

My second outhouse experience came as we were heading back home. All the kids had to go potty before we left. My same little princess didn't want to go into the portajohn. See she is scarred. So I help her out. I go in with her, line the toilet with some toilet paper and tell her to do her business. She says there are too many bugs in there. I smack a couple nasty, juicy bugs dead and then she still won't go. Then after some gentle encouraging by me, she starts crying. Finally I make the call that this particular child will just have to piss herself in the car on the way home. I escaped the death pod and used up whatever was left in our car bottle of antibacterial. All during a Redskin game.