It WASN'T A COOKIE. And it wasn't a termite.

Tonight after dinner, I grabbed what I thought to be a chewed up, half eaten Patton/Carolina cookie.

Only it wasn't a cookie.

No, friends...it wasn't. Tat. Tall.

What it was...........was excrement. That's right. Poo, for those of you who don't speak the language. It had fallen OUT of Patton's shorts and onto the floor.

As we speak, said shorts, Lamb, a washcloth, and several other items are being bleached.

Next up to be bleached? My hands. Elbows. Entire body for that matter.

Ewwwwwwwww-aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

God, I'd like to thank you right here and right now for not giving me the instinct to eat the "cookie", as I do with stray cheerios and other items from time to time. Had that happened, I fear I'd still be leaned over the side of the deck.

In other news....

Todd and I went out to see the glorious sunset tonight and found....TERMITES. My husband insisted we capture some of them in a glad lock plastic container for inspection. On to Google we went. Turns out, we didn't have a termite. We had ants.

Much to our scientific nerd side delight....we had the Queen. She was ENORMOUS. (and had....ahem...many a male admirer if you will) She and her brewd are still in the container, as hubby says she is evil and must be destroyed.

You can imagine his dismay when I asked "would it be ok for me to put some sugar in there for them?"

Last meal, right?