Outhouses

I forgot to post this picture when I was posting all about my weekend. On my way up to my Grandma's house, we had to take a detour and go up around Hawk's Nest. While doing so, Izzy suddenly had to pee. Why Chris and I neither one can remember to take him before we leave the house, I have no idea. But the trip is about an hour and a half, so he likely would have had to make a pitstop anyhow. We were in the middle of the park at that point, so we turned towards the lodge and we saw a Port-A-Potty, so we stopped.

Chris took Izzy in and I decided while they were in there to jump out and get the camera ready:


Chris told him it was an outhouse, which is funny, because in my experience it's not that far off from the truth.

My grandparent's outhouse wasn't torn down until about ten years ago, when my uncle moved back after my grandfather died. Anyone else out there have any experience with a real, true-to-life outhouse? Unreal. They had indoor plumbing put in when my mom was pretty young, but if I'm not mistaken, she had already left home. My sisters and I would sometimes go down there to use it just for the novelty of it. Even now, I can not imagine having to go out there every time you had to go, especially when it's cold. For hygienic reasons, it was a considerable ways away from their house. As we stood on the sundeck on the fairly new back porch and gazed across their property to the area where the outhouse stood for all of my childhood and all of my mother's, Chris said, "Your family sure was made of sturdy stock."

I guess you do what you have to do. And go where you have to go.