Rooster went on a trip with the church’s youth group. The group is doing a little bit of work at the camp that the group will visit this summer.
I was a little uncertain what to make of Rooster’s Facebook update early yesterday afternoon:
Innocence has changed my life
Hmmm…
I commented that I hoped it meant something good.
Rooster called me later that evening and explained the meaning of his update. Apparently, during his Western Civ class, he had learned that Pope Innocent III was the most powerful (i.e. strongest) pope in history.
Well, yesterday, while moving rocks so that a rock wall could be built, Rooster encountered a very stubborn rock…one that refused to be moved. He jokingly commented that it was like Pope Innocent III (I think he had to explain the significance of this to the guys he was working with). One of the other kids said they should name the rock after that pope, so they did…hence Rooster’s comment.
Don’t ya just love my son’s humor? He’s a bit of a nerd…history-lover, just like his mama. 😉
Anyhoo…back to the point of my post…
With the boy gone and Chicky gone back to college, I had to pick up the slack and start doing some chores.
Ugh.
I may not let Rooster go away to college.
Doing chores is for the birds.
One of my least-favorite chores is scooping poop.
With three large dogs, this is a daily chore that simply cannot be ignored. It’s almost like having a couple of horses. You just can’t decide not to muck out the stalls (thankfully, dog poop is much smaller than horse poop).
Anyhoo…
I grabbed a plastic Publix bag and the pooper scooper and headed out.
As you might recall, my backyard is in a bit of disrepair. I’ll spare you the embarrassing photos. Trust me. There’s virtually no grass.
There are, however, bunches of leaves in the back third of my yard, thanks to several pine trees that line my fence.
Well, the bad thing about leaves, which I don’t rake, by the way, is that they hide dog poop.
For children who do not like scooping poop, this provides a great excuse for “missing” some.
For mamas who are used to cleaning every crevice of every single thing, this provides a good excuse for screaming.
After scooping poop from the barren land in my yard, I headed toward the back, leaf-strewn area.
Oh.
My.
Word.
There were piles upon piles of poop.
Some of the poop was rock hard and white…petrified from the long winter.
I.
Was.
Not.
Happy.
I filled that Publix bag to the top before calling it quits.
The whole time, I could not help but think that in a thousand years, archaeologists are going to think they hit a treasure trove when they get to my backyard.
I can hear the conversation:
“Hey Brutus. Come here. You gotta take a look at this.”
“Yeah, yeah…I’m coming.”
“Oh. My. Word. What in the world are those, Hector?”
“They look like miniature logs of some sort. I wonder what they were used for.”
Oh yeah. Just buy the lot from me and declare it a site worthy of historical value.
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