Here, for no particular reason, is a video of an ant hill we discovered while poking around in the woods, which is further evidence in the mounting case against this whole “outdoors” business:

Found this back when we stayed in Bly. 🐜😱

A post shared by Linda Sharps (@sundry) on

Giant nightmare-tower of teeming insect horrors aside, I have been having an extremely awesome summer, even though I had to spend several days pooping on a bucket during a rafting trip on the Rogue River. Said bucket is actually referred to as “the groover” (here is the apparent explanation behind the name) and the worst thing about the groover is that you’re not supposed to pee in it. Like, doing so is a serious camping party foul, because it has to be carried for the whole trip and presumably no one wants it sloshing around. Which is all fine and dandy for dudes who can whizz wherever without even looking like they’re doing anything but fiddling with their waistbands while admiring the view, but we women have to constantly scuttle off and find somewhere vaguely private to hunker and try not to pee on our foot or drop our ass in a blackberry vine, which is maddening when there’s a toilet of sorts that’s totally available but only for one function. Plus of course there’s the issue of sitting down on the damn groover to carry out a Number Two and guess what, some Number One is absolutely going to happen, I’m not some sort of Kegel magician.

The upside of accidentally-but-not-really peeing in the groover is that despite the overly intimate nature of being faced with your rafting party’s output — because you can’t not look, you know? Once you flip that lid up you’re basically committed to looking, and by day two you’re like, ah, I see the Bear-Splat Pooper has been here, and Small Nuggets, and Soft Pretzel, and then you go back to camp and helplessly indulge yourself in the world’s most disgusting guessing game — no one can definitively be blamed for the urine-related rule-breaking, unless of course they confess it on their blog, which, to be clear, I am absolutely not doing right now.


12 Responses to “Groovy”

  1. Kristi on August 17th, 2017 9:45 am

    Jesus, Lord, Almighty Christ! How big are those friggin ants!? I know that is a close up but crap! Ours are about a cm or so! Gross! Oh, kegel magician…hee hee hee!

  2. Alison on August 17th, 2017 11:32 am

    Oh dear god. Oh dear god. Mandatory community poop bucket. Ack. I guess I could do it for my kids but I don’t think I’d ever get over it. Plumbing 4eva.

  3. Donna Plumley Brubach on August 17th, 2017 11:38 am

    Dude you need those bags that have the stuff in the bottom that acts like kitty litter and clumps up when you pee in it. That stuff is….(pardon my pun) the shit. No sloshing, no smell, and the outside goes over the bucket, you roll up the top, fold up the outside and it has a ziplock. Awesome!

  4. Pete on August 17th, 2017 11:41 am

    Do you think the ants pulled the twigs there or took over the nest of some other creature? Saving poop on a rafting trip. Is that an Oregon requirement?

  5. Stacy on August 17th, 2017 1:15 pm

    I love you.

  6. mcconk on August 18th, 2017 7:21 am

    but…..why can’t you just go into the woods and dig a hole like normal campers do?! you carried it around?!?!?

  7. Joanna on August 20th, 2017 12:40 pm

    Barring (perhaps impending) apocalyptic conditions, I definitely could not poop in a community bucket!

    I used to do a 2 week sleep away summer camp as a kid every summer and I never pooped there. And now I’m an adult who can only poop at home and in airports (with the stall doors that go all the way down).

  8. Pete on August 21st, 2017 8:56 am

    My son also went to camp and never pooped. He can’t poop anywhere but home. I took my other son backpacking for a week which cured him of that. Nothing like leaning against a rock to make you appreciate ANY toilet.

  9. LORI CHADA on August 21st, 2017 12:53 pm

    Why can’t you poop in the woods, like all the other creatures do?

  10. Meg L. on August 25th, 2017 3:52 pm


    They also make disposable ones, but, y’know, the Earth. I got one like this after a particularly appalling pit-stop where my choices were to 1) pee myself, 2) wade into the knee-deep thorn bushes/rattlesnake nests lining the road, or 3) cower next to the car and splash my ankles with pee-mud. … That was a gross story. You’re welcome.

  11. Christine on September 6th, 2017 5:51 am

    What the hell sort of camping is that so that I can definitely never do it? (Though I’m pretty good on 0 for 0 camping trips right now.)

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