The Poo Chronicles- First Edition

 Oh Whimsical Me!

For Indy's birthday yesterday, I made strawberry cupcakes with chocolate frosting. Yes I did.

It's what SHE picked out for herself. Being an only child has made her...well...fun! I was going to say spoiled but we won't go there...K? She is an adult over 30 for Pete's sake.

I was going for whimsical cupcakes, but I am certain they will end up on Cake Wrecks because instead of whimsical...they look like poo swirls with sprinkles. Party poo! But they tasted great! Note to self: No more poo swirls in my lifetime.

Actually...it even looked like poo coming out of my highly technical, specialized piping bag (Wal*Mart brand Ziplock bag with the corner cut off)... and my grand girls were laughing pretty hard...but they still let me squeeze some "poo" into their mouth when I was done with the cupcakes.

Madley and I watch Mike Rowe's Dirty Jobs...I watch it because of Mike. Madley just likes all the gross and dirty jobs. I sometimes have to turn my head...but I admit, all the poo he touches cracks me up. I would wager Mike Rowe has touched more varieties of poo than a fecalogist (not sure if this is a real job...but I'm just glad it's not my job) I have to go wash my hands 3 times after I watch Dirty Jobs.

When Indy was little...we went camping with family often near the ocean in Tomales Bay, CA...Dillon Beach to be exact. We loved to clam there. For some reason the campground was also a grazing pasture for cattle and they roamed around the tents and RVs at liberty.

 Little Indy had been running around looking for frogs and instead...she found a cow pattie...a warm, fresh cow pattie...with her foot. The warm, green goo squished between her toes as she lost her flip flop to the huge mound.



She dropped all her frog victims and came running into our campsite screaming bloody murder, and of course I thought she had cut her foot...but the blood between her little toes was green...and kind of smelly. I figured out through her sobs what had happened.

Well...it was all her uncle (same uncle who helped make up the Do You Love Her Madley song) needed to hear to start a tirade of jokes that made her cry so much you'd of thought she lost her favorite stuffed teddy bear to the pit toilet.

All this drama over some cow poo squished between her toes...and her uncles relentless teasing.

I took her over to the hose and washed the green muck off of her foot and carried her piggyback out to the offending pile of dung...and grabbed a stick...searched through the poo...and then moved on to the next suspected pile of poo because apparently there were more than one ejectamenta that looked exactly alike. Did you know there's not much variety in cow poo? I had no idea. I'm a horse poo expert.

After a few hours of searching, we finally found her poor flip flop sticking out of the very last poo pile out there, took it to the beach/cow-pasture/campground hose bib thingy and washed it off. She cried herself to sleep and never spoke to her uncle again.

Oh Poo. This was a stinky story. Sorry about that.



Thanks for reading my first edition of...The Poo Chronicles. Don't forget to buy toilet paper...and whilst camping at Dillon Beach, please watch your step.