Shawn and I were cuddled up in bed, nice warm sheets and blankies around our necks. Sleep was coming soon but we weren’t in any rush, just enjoying the night and the television show we were watching.
We happened to be watching Survivorman. Now, despite Survivorman being a whiny bitch, Shawn and I like to watch it because compared to Bear–he’s a whole lot more surviving, a lot less “doing shit just for the camera and show.”
Last night Survivorman was re-running an episode in the Australia Outback. Les, the main man from the show was chillin’, eating grubs and making a fire to keep himself from freezin’ his dangly bits off. To make a fire and keep it going he used dried up old dung found strewn about all over the ground as well as dead wood. Some of you out there are aware that poop, especially very old dried out poop makes for an excellent source of fire. It burns hotter, longer and slower than wood and has the advantage of keeping away a lot of bugs.
So Survivorman was on the tubes telling us that he was thinking about moving on to the next place in search of better water when I turn a bit to Shawn and say, “I’d grab me a big ol’ piece of flaming poo to carry with me, if I were him.”
There were several seconds of silence where we sort of eyed one another over the edges of our blankets before Shawn and I lost it.
Never in my life did I ever think I would have ever put the words big ol’ piece of, flaming, and poo together.
The journey of my life is a quiet, crazy path. A path that I am learning to follow with hopefully crazy grace, flaming crap and all.