Past Tree Experience

Thanks for the reminder to tell you a funny story about going to the Christmas tree farm.  Oh, you didn't remind me? Well, here it is anyway...

Back when I was in college, we would come home on the weekends for Christmas decorating and traditions. I would of course bring Heath along, as he slowly became part of the tradition as well. My dad still had an old work truck, with just one seat and two doors. The three of us would travel all over in that thing - my dad driving, Heath in the passenger's seat, and yours truly sat in the middle.

We used to break the tradition up into two parts. One weekend we would go pick out the tree and the next weekend, we would go get the tree. This particular year, when we went to go pick out the tree, it was wet. The ground was soggy and mushy. Tromping around, weaving in and out of possible Christmas trees was hard enough; but, the owner also had about seven dogs running around. They ranged from beagle sized to yellow lab size. I just crossed my fingers that they didn't jump on me.  Luckily though, we found a tree, marked it and told the owner we'd be back for it the following weekend. We made it out paw print free...

Once in the truck, my dad mentioned that he was trying to avoid stepping in dog crap, that was undoubtedly out there. Oh, yeah. I hadn't even thought about that. I was thinking of dirty paws. But, now that he had mentioned it, I did smell a hint of poo with the soggy, wet earth smell.

Noted.

The next Saturday, we pull up to the tree farm. My dad says, "Now, let's all be careful not to step in any dog poop. I don't want it tracked into the truck."

Heath and I agreed and nodded. We would be careful. Luckily the ground was a little harder and more frozen than last time. I specifically remember watching the ground as I avoided anything 'mud-like'. I was tip-toeing and skipping from one grassy patch to another. About fifteen minutes later, we were on our way. We were all very careful not to step in any dog poop.

Not even out of town yet, Heath says, "I smell dog poop."

My dad replies, "Hmm, nope. I don't smell it."

I agree, "I don't either."

Not even a minute goes by and Heath insists, "I smell dog crap! Someone stepped in it!"

I will never forget the next image I saw. It will forever be ingrained in my mind. I looked down at my dad's foot on the gas. He hadn't just stepped in a pile of dog crap. He stepped in that yellow lab's dog crap - the mother load. A huge pile was stuck to the bottom of his shoe and had squished up and curled over the side. Heath leaned over me, pointing toward my dad's foot. Immediately we all began to laugh.

How had Heath, the farthest away from it, smell it? And, my dad and I hadn't.

My dad pulled over on the side of the highway. He jumped out of the truck, mumbling what we can only assume were phrases including cuss words. Heath and I watched as he drug his leg along the grass of the ditch. He then leaned on a tree, trying to scrape his foot up and down the bark. Lastly, he used the tree to balance himself as he poked at his Adidas Superstar with a stick.

In the truck, there was nothing but tears and laughter. It was like watching a movie.

Once he felt that he had cleaned enough off, he got back into the truck. A few more miles down the road, we finally calmed down from laughing enough to let the truck fall silent.

"I still smell it!" Heath exclaimed.

This time, I checked my shoes. Smaller pile, but I was guilty too. My own shoe was embedded with poo. This time we didn't even bother stopping. Heath rolled down his window and threw my shoe in the back. My poopy shoe rode home with the Christmas tree.

Now, I have to be honest. I am literally laughing so hard that I'm crying while typing this. The story goes straight to my giggles. It is the single, most hilarious story that I can recall in my lifetime, thus far. The irony...the foreshadowing...the awesomeness...

It is a story that we talk about almost every year that we go to get our tree. This year was no different. We recalled the dog poop trip and laughed all over again. THAT is what memories are made of! :)

I only hope someday Lucy can have her own dog poop story. :)