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.
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~Sue
- Debbie Stewart