Passing Gas

The only person, aside from my children, who I ever felt comfortable farting around left me. It also happened to be the only time a guy ever broke up with me. Well... the only time it mattered. So women, be warned. He may SAY he likes it when you fart around him, but does he really? Really?

When I was growing up, fart was not a word that was allowed to be used. I didn't fart as a child. I passed gas. I also didn't pee or poop. I puddled and pottied. Then I met the father of my children, who's voice will forever fill my head with the phrase, "A fart is always good for a laugh." Needless to say, I took great pleasure in trying to out-fart my children as they grew into the fine, upstanding and gassy young adults they are today. To be honest, though, my daughter seems to have been spared the over amusement of her farts. She's quite the young lady and for me as her mother... well, let's just say that miracles DO happen. But my son... oh, boy. He is definitely his father's son.

I was in Walgreen's the other day just doing a little light shopping. I ventured onto the Christmas isle, which was empty at that moment. I noticed a lady, maybe in her 70's, come onto the isle with me. Then I noticed that she slowly walked up behind me and then she stopped. Let out a very audible fart. Pause. Another very audible fart. Then slowly moved on down the isle. I didn't laugh. I didn't even acknowledge that I heard anything. I just kept flipping through some holiday bows like she wasn't even there. I turned and looked at her as she reached the end of the isle and I know the look on my face would have made for good hidden camera show footage.

Before starting this post I was standing in front of my gas Dearborn heater warming my hands. Two kitties at my feet. I let one rip in the silence of my early morning household and suddenly got scared that it was going to catch on fire because I was so close to an open flame. And that was my inspiration for today's post.