Where are my fellow hunting widows at?
Rifle season opened last weekend, but I haven’t seen my husband for a full weekend since we got back from our honeymoon nine weeks ago. That man has been out, being one with nature and all, every waking hour since this summer. Do any of you all start to wonder if they’re piddling around in the garage just for the sake of not wanting to come in and hang out with you? Oh that’s just me? Alright, I’ll just sit here and continue to light my White Barn Pumpkin Pecan Waffles candle and drink my wine with Ellie as my cuddle buddy.
While it doesn’t make much sense, since Clint is gone during almost all daylight hours, my world has become consumed with all things deer hunting. I doubt we go a day without talking about a food plot, potential hunting leases, how the temperature is affecting moving patterns, or what type of mount “we” are getting next. Kudos to those of you out there that really dive in head first with all of this stuff. You’re out there sitting in the tree stand in freezing temperatures at the crack of dawn and vacuum sealing the deer burger and all that jazz. I’ll give ya a friendly wave as I pass you on my way home from grabbing my 10 a.m. coffee, after waking up from a refreshing nights sleep in the middle of the bed with all of the covers.
It’s so cute, that man of mine, to even joke that one more dead animal is going on a wall on the main floor of our house. I will say it here and now for the world to quote me, the two deer that he sent off to the taxidermy, along with the wild hog that is still there, will not be picked up until the basement is finished for them to reside. I would almost pay for our guests to get a room at the dingy motel in our town rather than shack them up in our guest room. I now count three stuffed rodents hanging in that room. *cue none of my friends ever wanting to visit us again*
And don’t even get me started on the deer meat. Oh yes my friends, after the deer is killed, and your significant other is on the phone for a solid 12 hours ranting on about how far away he was and what angle he got him at, you get to endure the best part. If you’re as lucky as I am, it will be just cold enough to let the deer hang for three to seven days in your garage (if it’s too cold, the meat will freeze; if it’s too hot, the meat will go bad – proven point, I know too much about this stuff). After this dead animal has been strapped to your garage overhang for an extended period of time, you get to see firsthand where all of your meat comes from. Do yourself a favor and get drinks with your girlfriends the night that all of this goes down.
All jokes aside, it really is so cool to see all of babe’s hard work come full circle. He harvested three deer this year, for one of his best years yet. He finally got one with his spear (yes, I live with a man that was meant to be an Indian), and got two nice wall hangers – for the basement of course. Being the third person he calls (ladies: you will NEVER be the first, or second person called. Those calls are reserved for Buddy #1 and Buddy #2. You should not expect to pass them in the list when it comes to the calling ranks after a kill) to share his story with is quite the honor. The guy is like a kid on Christmas morning and the excitement literally shines through the phone. I love that he has hobbies in life that bring him so much joy (besides me of course).
But, now that my guy is tagged out, that only means one thing — bonding time! <— Jokes, he will find something else to keep himself occupied that doesn’t include helping me clean the house. Quoted from his Best Man, “He is the busiest, un-busy person on the planet.”