As far as I can remember, since college I have been gifted with rather above-average volume of gastrointestinal gasses. As one may imagine this has been a liability lending toward embarrassment at times, but surprisingly this has also been advantageous in its own way, especially in the years of leading the youth group at EFC (Riverside) or among buddies (a la "Fart Football" introduced by Steve Shelton at UCR).
Obviously biologically there have been seasons of waxing and waning in this "gift," probably based on my diet of the time or other factors affecting my gut microbiome. But because the propensity has lasted so long and seemed to coincide with the times in my life I had made trips to developing countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, I wondered if perhaps I had been harboring some parasite unbeknownst to myself (amoebiasis, anyone?), and even had my doctor check this recently with stool testing. Thankfully, it was negative.
This afternoon, Jadon and I were having fun studying side by side punctuated by the occasional pungent "Bronx cheer," of which of course I was the more guilty party. To that, Jadon started to giggle to himself, so I asked him what was so funny?
His reply: "Daddy has mastered the 'Art of the Shart.'"
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