Skip to main content

Brainwashed Juniors


It is a sad state of affairs when I crawl out of bed, squint at the alarm clock and groggily calculate how many hours left until bedtime tonight. It's even worse when I try to estimate whether or not I'll have time to squeeze in a nap before the kids come home from school. But exciting plans are scheduled for today, so the events go on.

The most notable thing happening today is that John is keeping the kids busy while I have dinner with my kickboxing posse'. John is taking the kids to his favorite store, Gander Mountain. He says he is doing some advance planning for our 2 camping trips this summer. I say that he just needs a fix of roaming between the manly aisles, taking in all the bows, arrows, bullets and all the other junk that makes him a "mad hunter". The real thrill is going around looking at the little displays of dead, stuffed quirrels, decked out in little GI Joe clothes, holding their plastic toy rifles. They even have a few plaques with the rear end of a woodchuck or some other animal, the part where the hair cowlicks into little circle patterns. They make a face out of the woodchuck hiney by pretending that the butt circles are cheeks. They glue on eyes and presto--a fuzzy face to adorn your house. Who would buy that crap? My kids beg me for it--but I'm firm....they use their allowance and ONLY in the basement along with the other trophies our warrior prince, provider of wild meat has brought home. Like the deer heads and the pheasant, and the coyotes and the bear, and the turkey, and the .... well, suffice it to say that the list goes on.

The best thing about Gander Mountain is the sheer size of it. It is like a huge camping, hunting, outdoors warehouse complete with concrete floors and lots of places to hide. My kids will gladly spend the entire evening hiding between shelves and aisles, pretending to blast their dad while he wanders, wildly making notes on all the stuff we'll return to buy between now and June. At closing time, they'll protest that they want to stay just a few minutes longer, as they haven't quite anihilated the enemy. He'll drag them out of the store with red faces and sweaty bodies, because everybody knows that little stuffed army squirrels don't pull their weight in the ranks--they are only the lookouts. The hard work gets left for the real soldiers. It's exhausting, which is why they're sweating.

O, and the picture of Eric grimacing with the dead deer is because he is trying not to vomit. He detests everything about hunting. Especially the dead animals.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Boy, John and Chris can take a field trip with all the kids. This is also Chris's favorite place to take the boys. If it isn't for a knife (he taught them how to whittle with wood in the woods EEK) or a new tackle for Camron and Damon's overflowing tackle boxes. Funny thing happened the last time we were there. There is a stuffed, I think it is a raccoon, laying on a tree branch and Damon says something to daddy and Chris says "It looks like he is sleeping, doesn't it?" And Damon said "NO DADDY, he is DEAD!" The people in line laughed at him......daddy CANNOT pull one over on Damon!
~Sue
Anonymous said…
Gander Mountain sounds like the coolest store I've ever heard of! Why didn't my dad ever take me there? Guess there were no Gander Mountain stores in South Florida. I feel left out by never getting an experience like that.
- Debbie Stewart
Rochelle said…
We don't have a Gander Mountain, but a Bass Pro Shop & it is just as bad (or good...depending how you look at stuff like that). It is more like an amusement park!
Anonymous said…
I continue to wonder, after these many years, how John Olsen was fortunate enough to snag a city loving girl like you. Not that you don't enjoy the outdoors but John is on a whole nother level of outdoorsman! Anyway, I'm glad he has you to keep him classy :)

Popular posts from this blog

Stickin' It Out

I got married today. Well, not exactly today. It was Friday, June 2. But the year was 1989 - 17 years ago. "Amazing", people say. "Good for you", they comment. "You must have picked the right one", the add. Amazing? Yes. Good for me? I'll admit it. But it has nothing to do with picking the right one, really. It's not because I found the perfect boy, and it's certainly not because he found the perfect girl. It might sound a little unromantic, but there never really is a 'right one' floating around out there waiting in the cosmos for the other 'right one' to crash and connect. There may be 'better ones'; there may be 'more easily compatible' or something or other. But the real story is you start becoming the right one the moment you vow that "you do". When I married, I had been 20 for a whole 33 days, we had just completed a 2-year long-distance realtionship and HE was five years older tha

Too Close For Comfort

Depressing: Def., "Realizing that you and your Dearly Beloved are entirely to close to wearing the same pant size. Case in point - Hero Guy came ' har har-ing' out of the bedroom relating that he had accidentally been wearing a pair of my jeans for the last 15 minutes. He wondered why they felt so weird (translated - TIGHT) until he took them off and inspected the tag. He gloated that at least he knows he can fit into a Ladies Size ___ (you really think I'm going to tell you the number?!). My Observations: 1) He had a MONSTER wedgie, so the jeans were entirely too small for him. 2) They are my "fat" jeans, a size bigger than what I actually wear, but I just like the broken-in feeling of them. Or the roominess or something. 3) They were the stretchy kind of jeans, so an elephant could have painted itself into them. 4) What's he bragging about having a girlish figure for anyway? Not very macho if you ask me. Hmph.

Mixed Feelings

It's been a long time in coming, but as of this morning, I'm no longer a medical transcriptionist. I'm not sure how I feel about that...a little bit relieved, a little bit sad, a lot bit uncertain about whether I'll regret this decision. For the last year or so, I've found that the transcription work isn't fulfilling the need I once had to stay at home with my babies and have an income. I've increasingly felt that I need more interaction and less monotony. I've also felt the pressure of work that constantly needs to be done, with no sense of ever being really "finished." No matter how much work you've done for the day, there's always another note waiting to be transcribed. That goes for sick days, holidays, vacations days or any kind of days. This year, I've dabbled in substituting as a school monitor and office staff, and kind of found my niche in the last few weeks. I'll be working a couple of hours a day in one of the