It has begun...
It snuck up on me, so I was a little surprised when it was announced. I knew it was on the way. I knew that it was just one more thing I would have to juggle dinner around. I knew that the house would soon be quiet in the early morning and just before dusk.
Yet, it still blindsided me.
How can that be? I've had over 16 years to get use to the idea. I've been prepared for this event yearly...
Today my hubby announces that his brother is coming in tonight from Houston. By himself. Why is my brother-in-law traveling by himself on a weekend back to Arkansas? It is simple.
Saturday is "work day" at the family hunting grounds.
Do you know what that means?
It means that it is the time of the year when my hubby and the menfolk in his family get ready to make "the camp" their second home. It means that I will not see my hubby in anything but camo unless he is at work or at church, for the next three months. It means that the quest for bragging rights becomes TIME consuming for the men in my life. It means I'm a widow for a time. Actually, I will lose a son for a season too...
Yep! Hunting season and the search for the big buck are about to begin.
The time of year I have to pretend I know what they are talking about, when they are cleaning the guns. The time of year when "Scent Away" laundry detergent replaces Tide. The time of the year when I have to listen to story after story about the "big one" that got away. Or the "monster" Uncle Tom shot. Or there is even Thanksgiving dinner held at the camp. (My kids love it!!!)
I guess I knew what I was getting into when I married him.
However, there is something about the whole hunting pastime that makes me want to go buy some new scrap booking supplies. Or read a good book. Or rent a bunch of girl flicks to watch with my daughter. Or go shopping? Anything but washing the dishes in the sink and tackling the mountain of laundry, camo included.
Hunting...Just one of the perks of living in the south, I guess. My husband sure spends a lot of time trying to "bring home dinner." (Of course I think it is easier and cheaper to just go to Taco Bell...)
Don't worry, I'll be sure to let you know if Hubby and Jr. shoot the BIG one. I know you will all be waiting anxiously. Shoot! I should probably even have a party and take lots of pictures... just as reminders in case I long for a few hours of quiet the other 9 months of the year! :)
8 comments:
Ha! This is one thing I just don't know anything about because my husband isn't the least bit interested in hunting. I'm pretty glad about that. ha!
I really enjoyed this post. There were a lot of hunters in my family at one time so I can "empathize" in many ways.
Maybe the "big one" won't get away this year & you will have more food than Taco Bell.
I pray safe & happy hunting for all!
WOw, I would be lost too while they are talking, I don´t think I know any hunters. I lived in the south but our town seems to have more northeners than southerners :) so not much hunting there than I know of :)
3 months???!!!! So do the "widow" wifes get together for chick flicks or something?
my idea of hunting is searching for random eggs around the pen that my chickens decide to lay......LOL.
Enjoy your "meesh" time.
xox
YUP.
And my hunter went off and bought a fourwheeler that he is building back together....so now I'm a deer widow and a wheeler widow.
We've had nothing but mac-n-cheese for dinner for a week.
Oh no. I do not have a hunter, so this is football season around here only:)
Mich,
Perhaps this is the time that God is laying aside for you to do something for him, a study group, a moms/daughter lunch group, a woman's prayer group?
Just a thought, you don't have stuffed animal heads above your fireplace do you?
Sending you lots of female hormones, hugs and love to get you through the next few months.
Love and Hugs ~ Kat
I really don't get hunting, myself, but as long as they're careful of each other and respectful of the animals, I suppose it's a tradition which makes memories for a lot of men and thins out some over population in the animal kingdom.
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