When my parents flew my sister and I to Washington state to meet our Great Grandmother, I couldn’t wait to check out her outhouse. I heard it was a two-seater and, at age 5, I found this little fact very intriguing. Ignorance is bliss, eh?
By the time we made the trip out West, I was already emerging as a bit of a toilet expert given my frequency of use. However, when I finally got to the outhouse, the romance faded in a flush, I mean flash. One look down the hole and there was just no way. So back in the house I went to use the modern facilities.
Even though I’ve since tried to avoid primitive toilets as much as possible, I prefer them to those ungodly auto flush toilets. It’s a long story, but I had a near death experience when one ruptured under my rear in 2001. I kid you not. (Even though it has nothing to do with art or craft, I’m sure I’ve probably told this story on the podcast. Anybody remember which episode?) So basically, I’d rather risk falling down the hole of an outhouse, than worry about flying shards of porcelain severing a main artery. Talk about an instant Darwin award.
Okay, so where the heck am I going with this? Oh, yeah, even though I think real outhouses are stinky and gross, I think fake outhouses like the 10 I photographed for my last Grand Rapids Press Art & Craft column are loads of fun. You can read more about the painted privy art contest at Cherry Valley Greenhouse here in West Michigan on my newspaper blog.
