Poop Shovel

I was reminded of a phrase Leslie and I learned early in our marriage which would instantly send us into peals of laughter.  It was a phrase that had a story behind it, as most phrases like these do, but one that had grown into disuse over the years until eventually it became only a memory.  However, with the resurgence of said memory we have regained the ability to send each other into bouts of laughter by merely saying… I should say shouting, “poop shovel.”

A number of years ago, early on in our marriage, Leslie and I went on a camping trip that turned into a paintball outing the following day.  We went with a group of students and leaders from a couple of different churches.  As we sat around the campfire that night our conversation turned to breakfast foods and what was going to be available in the morning.  One of the older guys (older than I was at the time anyway) began to get excited when it was discovered that we had Pop tarts as part of the selection.  It was with great anticipation that he went to sleep that night, pondering the best ways to use a campfire to heat his Pop tarts.

The following morning I got up early and got the campfire going as there was still a brisk chill about the air.  Soon enough the gentleman from the previous evening got up and began searching for a method with which to heat his Pop tarts.  Eventually he came around the side of one of the small buildings carrying a shovel and looking very pleased with himself.  It wasn’t long before he had an opened pack of Poptarts sitting next to him as he used the shovel as a platform to roast his Pop tart over the fire.  Once the first Pop tart was warmed to his satisfaction he began to eat while preparing the second Pop tart for cooking and eventual consumption.  It was at this point that another member of our party came up to the fire and asked with a horrified expression, “Jim (the names of those involved have been changed to protect their identities), what are you doing?”  With a satisfied look on his face, Jim replied, “I’m cooking my Pop tarts.”  To which the other gentleman replied, “That’s the shovel you are supposed to take with you to… *ahem* bury your business in the woods.”

At this point poor Jim’s face began to take on a greenish pallor and he promptly tossed his remaining Pop tart into the fire.  Unable to contain my amusement any longer I pointed out that Jim had been using the poop shovel to cook his Pop tarts which then brought about a great deal of laughter from those around the campfire.  From then on the phrase “poop shovel” has been cemented into my mind and has always been good for a laugh or two.

I believe I went to the world’s smallest Chick Fila last week.  I had finished up my visit to the job site and I wanted to grab lunch before I started my 2.5 hour drive back to the airport.  I still had a little bit of time to kill so I was hoping to be able to go in and sit down at the Chick Fila across the street and read a book for a bit… or more likely catch up on some email.  As I pulled in to the parking lot I was surprised to see the number of outdoor tables there were, I was even more surprised to see a walk-up window (think drive-thru without the car).  I circled the building looking for a place to park and the main entrance, however, much to my surprise there was no main entrance.  This entire Chick Fila consisted of two drive-thru lanes and the walk-up window.  Of course, something like this would only fly in the south, someplace where the winters only get “down” to 45F and they last all of three weeks.

It was a somewhat sad day Saturday.  In anticipation of being gone for a couple of weeks I decided to use this weekend to get all the lawn equipment out, tuned up, and running.  Of course this meant that first I had to pull out the snow blower and… summerize (no auto correct, I am not trying to spell summarize) it.  I had kept my hopes up long past what was probably reasonably; I kept hoping that we would get some freak snowstorm and I would have to dig out the garage and really give my snow blower a workout, but alas it was not meant to be.  I believe we got a grand total of 13” of snow the entire winter, a total that we topped in a single snow storm four separate times the previous winter.  I remember, I had to shovel my driveway and sidewalk each time it snowed like that (not to mention all the other times it snowed, but not quite like that).  Oh well, I guess there is always next year.


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