I tagged along with my husband and his friend this morning in search of the elusive bull elk. There was no warm up period, no leisurely walk in the crisp morning air. We went straight up, straight away! And these guys were power walking with 3 foot strides in comparison to my 1½ foot stride. After a while they would realize that I had fallen behind and they would wait. Then, as soon as I would catch up with them, huffing and puffing like an asthmatic, they would take off again before I could even catch my breath.
The guys would whisper up ahead of me, making plans and pointing up. They would never share their conversation and plans with me. I think they were afraid I would protest too loudly. They were, of course, correct because there is no quiet way to say 'Hell NO!' Was it just me or was it uphill all the way, both ways? I really hate 'up'.
Our friend is funny. He has an alarm on his wristwatch. Every hour on the hour it beeps. Every hour on the hour the deer and elk knew exactly where we were. I'm sure they appreciated it.
My husband got caught without toilet paper again. Oh, he packed it this morning, but left it in the truck. He asked me if I had it. Well, no, he packed it, not me. He asked me if I had the pack of tissue I gave him last week. Well, no, I gave that to him last weekend. I ended up giving him a bandana to shred. Will he ever learn? Nah, probably not.
Ugh, chola! I hate chola. I've created a new game. Its called 'chola limbo', except there is no bar to shimmie under. In this version the object of the game is to see who can get the closest to a chola cactus without being stuck. I lost every single time. I really REALLY hate chola!
One more day left for archery. For my friend's sake I hope he doesn't walk up on a big bull or buck right on the hour. Beep beep!
You get up in the morning, o'dark hundred, and dress in your Real Tree Mossy Oak Advantage jeans and turtleneck. Its fall turkey season and you're ready. You want to be able to blend into your surroundings like a ghost. You drive out to the field where the roost tree stands. But before walking out to find a good spot to set up, you don your vest and hat. A short hike and you are smack dab in the middle of turkey territory. The woods are just beginning to wake up and you are almost twitchy with anticipation. Slowly, almost teasingly, the sun rises and bathes the woodlands with its warm glow. You are motionless, you are one with the woods.