A Poo Emergency

I have a friend who uses the expression “Poo Emergency” more frequently than you would imagine. Let me tell you, being back in Chiapas makes a stop on the side of the road look like nothing…

I realize that after a hiatus from writing, you probably weren’t expecting this post today. After all, this summer has been full of all kinds of family fun. Bebita and I have been all over meeting new family members. Sometimes, the things that weigh heaviest on a blogger’s mind come from somewhere deep inside…

Using the bathroom in Chiapas isn’t squatting over a hole in China–but it isn’t a pretty thing. It was one of the things that I had the hardest time getting used to last year. I mean, seriously, I know toilet seats aren’t necessary, but they sure are nice! (Do you think Mexican men got tired of their wives complaining, and they just decided to take them off?)

We carry toilet paper with us everywhere too–because apparently that’s also not a given…

My newest experience involves my husband’s sweet family. Most of the houses have a crude sort of bathroom outside. (Think outhouse without the smell–and an actual toilet to sit on.) His sister decided to move her “bathroom” to inside her house. I use the word inside lightly, as there is an open area to the side of the bedrooms where the family cooks, eats, visits, and…uses the bathroom.

Oh! And to flush, you fill a bucket with water from the rain barrel by the better old bathroom location. How could I forget that!

This particular morning, I was hurting while mentally willing the family to get up from the table a mere five feet away from the open air bathroom. By “open air” I am referring to the fact that I can look up at the guava tree while I’m using the facilities, I can see the family move about through the shower curtain, and I could join the conversation without raising my voice if I were a braver soul.

Instead? I clench my muscles and explain to my husband that my bowels are rebelling against tamales and tacos. (Yep. We no longer have secrets, it seems…). We work as a team to fill the water bucket before I go–as to quickly remove the wastes as soon as possible.

The privacy of the Starbucks bathroom was not wasted on someone unappreciative today as we made our way back to “civilization”.

A Longfellow Moment

Ahh! How good it feels!  The hand of an old friend!

You know, the best friends on earth are the friends that you can see–and things just click back into place.  CLICK!

I feel so blessed to have you in my life, sweet friends.  You have been so patient–I know it isn’t easy to have a friend whose head is in the clouds.  Whose dreams of traveling have kept her away from home for so long.  Whose current lifestyle only allows for little snatches of time here and there.

And yet, no matter how long we go without phone calls, letters, or visits it seems like yesterday…

It seems like yesterday that we sang every Harry Chapin song we could remember.

It seems like yesterday that we pretended Mama was an evil old stepmother who only gave us saltines and water to eat.

It seems like yesterday that we tried to steal cookies from the dining shed find a cup to get some water in the middle of the night.

It seems like yesterday that we made fun of Mr. Sage for everything under the sun.

It seems like yesterday that Mama read us How to Eat Fried Worms while we laid on the floor.

It seems like yesterday that we made it to almost every Friday Night Midnight Movie.

It seems like yesterday that we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking.

It seems like yesterday that we followed our sisters around.

It seems like yesterday that we played ball, ran to the concession stand, and ordered suicides (ick).

It seems like yesterday when boy problems were our actual biggest problems that we delt with.

It seems like yesterday that we swam in the lake–letting the fish nibble at our fingers and toes.

It seems like yesterday that we went to Friday Night Football Games together singing “Oh, McGee, you’re so fine...”

It seems like yesterday…

Where did the time go, old friend?  And why haven’t we taken more time to write, call, and visit?  Has living in a Facebook world made us closer or are we more displaced?  Because like always, we part promising to get together, write, and Skype more.

Will I be writing a blog in ten years talking about the good memories of today?  I hope so–but let’s make a point to make some good memories, eh?   Because before we know it, we’ll be watching grandchildren play while we reminisce about the good times we had.

Ah! How wrinkly it feels! The hand of an old friend!