As you may know, I am not a huge fan of dead animals. I support my husband's hunting mainly because I know it is good quality time for him to spend with the boys, and also to make him happy. I let him hunt, he's happy. I don't let him hunt, he laughs at me, and hunts anyway. So I just go with it, spend money on his debit card while he's gone, and silently pray that he doesn't actually kill anything. My prayers are not often answered in the way I would like. Not only does he kill stuff on a regular basis, now he has the kids actually being "successful".
Dallin, who is 12 and of legal hunting age in the great state of Utah, was lucky enough to get a turkey with his bow earlier this year. He was excited, so I was excited for him. Yay, that's so great! I'm so proud of you! Please, please, please don't bring it home...
Well, I guess it was a pretty good turkey, so Jason took it to his way-too-good-of-a-friend taxidermist to get stuffed. I was happy because that meant I had a few more months of animal-freeness, and then I forgot about it. Until the other day, when Jason sent me this picture from his phone. With one word: "Yes."
Yes, what? Yes, the turkey is done. Yes, it's huge. Yes, I'm bringing it home. Yes, it's wearing a seat belt.
Soooo.... that's great! It's really.... beautiful. I.... love it. I mean it looks so... real. I guess we are keeping it in the house?
Fortunately, the turkey is living in Dallin's room for the time being. I don't often go in there, but when I do I will be reminded of a happy boy and his very large accomplishment in the spring of 2015. And hope that it is his last accomplishment of the sort for quite some time.
Now, will you take a moment and review with me the thoughts that are going through Jason's mind in the above photo:
Man, this is cool.
I'm driving with a turkey.
This turkey is huge.
Everyone looking in here thinks I'm so cool because I'm driving with a huge turkey.
I need a picture of this.
This is awesome.
It's not like I can read minds or anything, but yeah, sometimes I actually can.
So last week was my birthday. I used to hate birthdays. All through my twenties, I thought it was just terrible that I was growing old. But now that I'm in my thirties, I say, bring it on. I can't wait to get old. Like, old old. I hope I live to be 100. You can get away with anything when you're 100. And no expectations. Congratulations for being alive. That's all you get, every day. I wish someone would congratulate me for being alive every day at 36. Also, it doesn't bother me if you know I am 36. The only thing that would be better is if I were 63. Can't wait for that day.
Anyway, in the spirit of who-really-cares-anyway, here are 36 things you might or might not know about me. I know, these lists went out of style in 2007. But I'm bringing 'em back, baby! Who really cares anyway?
1. Well, I guess I just said this, but I'm excited to get old.
2. Cause when you're old, anything goes.
3. I'm hoping for a catheter.
4. I'm the only person I know (besides a few of my sisters), who wants a catheter.
5. One of my favorite things about being in the hospital having a baby is that I get to have a catheter. When the nurse comes to take it out afterward, I'm always like, "No, I'm good. Check back in a while." I try to put them off until the nurses change shifts and forget about it. I've gone a solid 24 hours without having to get up to use the bathroom in the hospital before.
6. What could be better than never having to get up from your bed to use the bathroom?
7. I don't understand why anyone wouldn't want a catheter. Makes no sense.
8. My mom is going to be really embarrassed that I am writing about catheters on my blog.
9. Switching topics, I really love to play the piano.
10. My goal is to learn to play the organ and play in sacrament meeting by the time I'm 40 (that will redeem me in my mom's eyes).
11. It terrifies me to play in front of people and I think that's why I want to do it so badly. I have to conquer this fear.
12. I've been playing the piano in Primary for over a year now, and it is my favorite calling ever.
13. I'm still not good at it, and I consider it a success if I can make it through the Hello song, which we sing every week, without too many mistakes.
14. I'm really scared to have five kids.
15. I keep telling myself if I can get through this next year with a new baby, I can do anything.
16. I love newborns. I don't care about the sleepless nights or looking like death. Newborns are so precious to me.
17. The age I struggle with most is the "newly mobile" stage, around seven to fifteen months. Please, for the love of humanity, just sit there for a few minutes and stop putting crap in your mouth.
18. Although I'm sad my kids are getting older, I love going through all the new phases of life with them.
19. I beg my kids to tell me who they have crushes on, because I remember all my grade school crushes, from kindergarten through jr. high. Every year I had at least one true love. I don't think a single one of them ever liked me back. Good thing, because I'm pretty sure half of them are in prison now. I guess I shouldn't say that, because maybe I could have done them some good in their lives. But most likely, I would just be in prison with them by now, had we ended up together.
20. I love and support my husband in everything he does, even if I don't like it (I'm looking at you, hunting).
21. But I'm glad my husband and boys have something that keeps them close and gives them something to do together.
22. I think one of my greatest talents is making fun of hunting. It is
probably the thing that comes the easiest to me of everything I do.
23. For one thing, there is a never-ending source of material.
24. For another thing, it makes NO sense.
25. It's not like I'm against it, really, I just don't understand it. I'm trying though... You want to kill an animal, why? Okay. Why not.
26. I really admire my husband's drive and motivation for hunting. He does not give up on his goals. While his aspiration in life is to slay all 20-something species of big game animals with a bow, mine is simply to not have to get out of bed at night to use the bathroom. He will probably be successful. I won't. I really need to be more like him.
27. I'm a pretty reserved person and I don't speak up as much as I should. Probably because I'm usually thinking about things like the ones on this list, and I know people will think I'm weird if I spout them off.
28. Stuff stresses me out. I have an overwhelming urge to throw away everything in my house on a daily basis.
29. I used to think I loved to organize. Now I realize the less stuff I have, the less I need to organize. It's easier to keep track of 2 things than 227 things. Duh!
30. Yes, this does mean I need things I threw away last week.
31. I don't care. I'm still happier without it.
32. Of all the clean things I love, clean kids are my favorite. I love just-out-of-the-bath, squeaky clean kids. Even if it doesn't last very long.
33. I think almost every bad mood can be cured by a good bath.
34. I've always dreamed of driving an El Camino. Possibly living in one.
35. See how useful they are? Now I'm going to be thinking about El Caminos all day.
36. Being old is going to be awesome. In the 2070s I'm totally going to be driving my El Camino around with all my grandkids in the back and telling them how I was born in the 1970s. I might even go as far as putting a camper shell on the back. Oh yeah, and don't forget the catheter. I'll never even have to pull over.
Jason and I recently took a little trip to Alaska. Jason has a goal to accomplish the "Super Slam," which is to take every North American big game animal (there are 29) with his bow. There are very few hunters who have accomplished it with a gun, and even fewer with a bow. We all know that Jason loves a good challenge, so it is not surprising that he is well on his way to, how do we put it delicately, harvesting all the required critters with his bow. Next on the list: Sitka blacktail deer, available only in Alaska and the west coast of British Columbia.
I love it when hunters say harvest. What, do they want us to think they planted the animal in the ground? Nice try.
When I heard about his plans to go to Alaska, fly to an island on a little float plane and camp for a few days, I thought, why do all Jason's little hunting buddies get to have all the fun? I like fun and I don't hate nature most of the time. So I signed up for the adventure. And what an adventure it was.
We flew into Ketchikan, Alaska on a Monday night, with plans to fly out to Prince of Wales Island the next morning. However, it was too windy that day to fly so we found ourselves with a day to explore the nice little town of Ketchikan. It was here that we saw our only bears of the trip. THANK HEAVENS.
The only thing I was really nervous about on the trip (besides having to eat Ramen noodles) was bears. Jason chose Prince of Wales Island because there are no grizzly bears there. Only regular bears and wolves. No biggie.
These bears were right by the side of the road, where a river emptied into the ocean. People were fishing about five feet away. I couldn't believe it! Here is a little video footage of the experience:
It was kind of bad, though, because then I had bears on the brain for the rest of the trip. I was certain we were going to come across one (or many) around every bend, under every tree, and especially during each night. Luckily, I was with Jason, who had a gun, and if that didn't work, he's bigger than me and the most logical choice for a bear's lunch. So I tried not to worry too much.
Well, I can't lie, I was also nervous about flying in a tiny plane. I watched the float planes take off and land on the water in Ketchikan and I thought, holy cow. That's gonna be me. And soon it was.
Yeah, it was a little scary stuffing myself in the back of the plane. The pilot wasn't very amused when Jason asked him how many times he had flown. I guess those kind of people don't like to be doubted. Here is some footage of me on the plane, trying to trust the little guy and not freak out:
But as soon as we were in the air I was overwhelmed with the beauty of the ocean and the mountains. It was seriously incredible. I LOVED the flight! It was cool landing on the water. The pilot found a log to pull up to, so we stopped and unloaded all our gear, shimmying across a wet log to the shore. Adventure: begin!
Pretty sure he was saying, "See you later, suckers!" as he dropped us off and paddled away, then flew back to civilization.
The first thing that struck me on the island was how green everything was. Like, vibrant green. So lush and beautiful. And wet! "How amusing," I thought, "Little droplets of water just hang in the air!" Little did I know, I would never be dry again.
Even the spider webs were wet.
Our plan, which was carefully routed on Google Earth, was to fly into Aiken Lake (check!) and then hike a few thousand feet up to camp at a certain spot where the deer would likely be abounding.
What we didn't know is that it is really hard to hike on steep, wet, mossy rocks and through thick, thick brush while trying to balance our backpacks, the two bows, rifle, tripod and everything else under the sun. We went as far as we could through the jungle, and as soon as we found a clearing we set up camp.
The tent looks deceivingly large in this picture. It was actually about as high as my knee. Note to self for next time: a one man tent does not equal a one man and one woman tent. It was just big enough for the two of us to lie side by side, but not big enough to sit up fully. Gets to be awful crampy after a few days o' rain, my friend!
We decided to begin hunting right away. Jason had two tags for himself and one for me (not that I would have shot anything), so he wanted to hurry and get a deer to check off his list, and then hunt for a really good one.
Hiking was amazing. It was easier not having ALL our gear, but still pretty slippy. I fell a few times and had some impressive bruises.
There were streams and crystal-clear lakes everywhere. Water! And hidden bears.
I mean, if there are not five families of bears living under that tree, I'll give you a thousand dollars. I would get especially nervous when we would pass these strange and abundant caves because Jason was usually several yards ahead of me and I knew that I would be lunch for the bears because I was bringing up the rear. Pretty sure Jason was banking on that, even though he didn't know my secret plan of feeding him to the bears because he's bigger. I'm SO glad we were never in that situation, because how awkward would our marriage have been after that, both of us trying to shove the other toward the family of bears, then we somehow survive, and still have to spend the rest of our lives together. Awk-ward!
Jason tried pretend like he didn't want me to get too far behind, but then I would look up and, oh great, he's clear up on top of that mountain! Now I have to scale the slimy thing.
Right up around here somewhere we saw our first real herd of deer. Jason took a shot while I tried to video, but I wasn't sure if I was on the right deer, so he didn't shoot right when he wanted to, and once he shot and all the deer ran away we found the arrow sticking in the ground with no blood. He was sure he had hit the deer he was aiming at, so that was disappointing. We hiked in the direction the deer went, but with little hope of finding them again.
Jason took a break to fill the water bladder. Can I just tell you how much I hate the word bladder, especially in reference to drinking water? Please, let us not refer to bladders when we are talking about water we will soon drink! It's so... unappetizing. We had a filter and everything, but still. I don't know if I'm made for the outdoors.
I was waiting patiently for Jason to fill the, ahem, bladder, when I looked down by my feet and saw.... blood! I was standing right by a big blood trail. My able husband had hit his deer after all. I will spare you the pictures, my sensitive viewers. I'll save the gore for the pictures of the actual dead animal. So brace yourself. Here's a scenic picture to help you get ready:
Now here's one of me having a really good attitude. I vowed I would not complain on this trip, and I didn't! I was, however, silent once in a while.
Now back to the chase. We followed the blood trail that I spotted and it led us to a quiet, lonely creature with a large wound. He was lying there, breathing his last. He was so cute, with great big eye lashes. I just wanted to take him home. And then I realized, oh yeah, I am taking him home. In my backpack. And then he didn't seem quite so appealing.
Well, well, well, what do we have here? The mighty hunter with his Sitka Blacktail Deer. Now, if you are used to mule deer, this one must seem quite small. However, this particular brand of deer is very small, so this one is actually on the large side.
I'm having two thoughts here: #1 - "Please don't let me fall off the edge of the earth," and #2 - "How long until I can wash my hands with soap?"
Jason doesn't really care about washing his hands with soap, which is fortunate, because he has the fun job of... dismantling the critter. Soon the job was done, our backpacks were full ("Deep breath, deep breath, it's only meat!") and we headed back down to camp.
Ah, camp. We got there right before dark. A slight drizzle was starting. The slight drizzle became more of a regular drizzle, and then a large drizzle, which continued for, oh, two days or so. Without stopping!! We had no idea how lucky we were to be able to hike and hunt on that first day, because we never again had the opportunity. The rain and fog settled in and didn't leave. Ever again.
We spent most of the remainder of the time in the tent. It wasn't so bad. I had my kindle and a large bag of candy. I read five books and I was pretty much living my dreams, as long as I could keep circulation going in all of my limbs. Trying to drown my bear worries in chocolate actually worked pretty well. Jason acted tough, but I could tell he was a little nervous, too, because every so often he would say, "I'm going to shoot the rifle out the door, just in case there are any bears around." And then he would wake me in the night and say, "I'm just going to shout for bears for a minute. They don't like that." Then he'd start yelling at the top of his lungs in a really mean voice, "Get away bears! Get out of here! Shoo!" and I would think, "Oh man, we are doomed." But either it worked, or the bears really were down fishing for salmon at the lower elevations like they were supposed to be at this time of year. Occasionally we had to leave the tent to get water, and we tried to go hiking a few times, but it was just too wet.
Nice bladder!
We were supposed to leave the island on Sunday. Let's see, if you do the math, we shot the deer on Wednesday, that's an awful lot of time to spend in a tiny wet tent! So we called on the satellite phone to see if the pilot could come get us a day early. He said he would try.
Saturday morning we packed up all our sopping wet things and slid down to the lake to wait for our rescue. The sky wasn't looking so hot.
Jason tried to fish for a while, but there were no fish to be caught. At 9:30 am, we heard a plane approaching. We heard it fly around for a long time. And then we heard it leave. I was sure we were destined to stay on this island forever. It really felt like we were on LOST, but with no fruit to sustain us. Just meat. And we all know how I hate to meet my meat. We waited and waited and finally at about 3 pm we heard... a plane! The sky didn't seem any clearer, but suddenly, there was Dave! Bursting through the clouds and headed straight for us!
He's probably never received such a warm welcome in his life. Then again, he's a bush pilot in Alaska... he probably has.
Flying away! Flying away!
Do I look happy? Because I am.
It was a pretty clear day once we got past Aiken Lake. I know why they call it that. Because if you aren't achin' when you get there, you will be by the time you leave.
Alaska is just breath taking. Most of the time I couldn't believe what I was seeing. And the nature! It just goes on and on and on. You can't get away from it!
It looks especially great from a plane after four days on a blessed little island. Don't get me wrong. Jason and I had a great time. The weather took us by surprise, for sure, but we had a lot of laughs and I'm so glad I got to experience all the craziness with him. I told Jason in the beginning that I just wanted to read and sleep on this trip, and man, did that ever come true! But we were also blessed with the hike of a lifetime, and a hunt we will never forget.
I'm just glad we finally got to leave, because a few too many days in the rain tends to make a person... slightly crazy. Take my word for it.
Ah, summer. Three months of pure bliss with our perfect children, enjoying unstructured days of love, and of course, infamous family outings. Let's be honest for a minute here. Does anyone really like family outings? Is it ever really worth it to leave the house WITH the kids? No matter how adorable, charming and glorious they may appear on Facebook and blogs, I KNOW almost all family outings are actually exercises in torture in more ways than one. Do the few picture-perfect moments make them worth it? I am totally up in the air on this one. It's a good thing I have an adventurous, motivated, thrill-seeking husband who actually wants to experience life with the kids and makes the effort to see that it happens. Or I might never leave my house. Not joking.
Let's examine a recent little outing that had its fair share of ups and downs. I'm still trying to decide if the whole experience was worth the... effort.
It began as most of our outings tend to begin, with a hunting motivation in mind. Jason drew out for a deer tag out by Vernon, which is west of Lehi. Way west. What a perfect excuse to go on a little family picnic/fishing trip to Vernon Reservoir while scouting for deer and basking in our love for each other all at the same time. If you haven't been to the classy V.R. or heard of it, it's probably because you haven't gotten drunk, beat your kids and threw trash in a lake lately, because everyone we saw out there was doing all three of those things in random order. Also, public urination was involved in all three. And yes, there were two quite nice "porter potties" (as my kids call them) nearby. I'm assuming they were in such good condition because they never get used. Lucky for us.
Moving on. As we drove out through the lone and dreary desert on our way to the VR, we encountered an approaching train. A very long approaching train. We were in the middle of absolutely positively nowhere. I don't even know where the track came from. Suddenly it was just there in front of us, and there was a train on it. We were about two seconds too late to make it across, so we sat and merrily counted train cars. For a very long time. The train went and went and went. Until it stopped, never to move again. We couldn't see the end in either direction, which is saying a lot, because I'm sure we could almost see the north and south poles from our position in the vast wilderness. The husband was not impressed.
So, what does a huntin' man with an agenda do when he can't go over it, and he can't go under it or even through it? He must go around it. This, despite all obstacles, which include: a begging wife, frightened children, a sign that says, "DO NOT ENTER" and the absence of an actual road. "I'm sure we can get across somewhere," he says with bravado as he peels through the dirt onto the... path next to the train track.
Tense moments ensued. I had the thought, "This is some mighty fine blogging material, I should get out my camera," but the thought was quickly squelched by a glance at the determined and, shall we say, humorless husband across the truck from me. We continued on the path of terror for quite some time. It didn't get any better. In fact, it got significantly worse. After about 15 minutes/years, we passed the front of the train. Unfortunately, we were now separated by a large barbed wire fence and a steep incline to the track, both of which made passage impossible.
"There must be a crossing somewhere out here," came the grumbles, admist Mormon curse words (ie. "flippin' shiz-bitin' monkey-liver crap-headed train drivers", etc), from the driver's seat. Against my better judgement, I used the time to educate my children on why patience is a virtue and how if you simply wait and think positive thoughts, all the trains in your life will eventually move out of the way and let you through unscathed (not true, but that didn't stop me). What did stop me was the same thing that stopped the whole adventure: a sudden series of giant holes in the ground, impossible to see in front of us because of the six-foot high sage brush we were barreling through at near sonic speed.
Suddenly, the truck was leaping through the air, carrying six terrified passengers with it. There was a crash. A burst of light (not really). A shower of glass. Screaming (that was me). Then all was quiet in the jungle. What in the living heck just happened?
I guess the 4-wheeler in the back of the truck must have been feeling lonely and wanted to join in all the fun and love going on in the front of the truck, because it came right through the window and showered all of us in shards of glass, especially the three frightenedlittle souls strapped into the back seat. That was a bad moment, I'm not gonna lie.
Jason and I jumped out of the steaming truck and tried to calm the kids while we unbuckled them and lifted them out of their glass blanket and onto the dusty, thorn-covered ground. Thanks to the design of modern vehicle glass and the mercy of heaven above, there was not a single cut on any of the kids. We swept out the truck the best we could with our bare hands and broke out the rest of the window to prevent further tragedy.
Now that we were stopped, we could read the sign that was looming a few yards ahead of us, which had been previously obstructed by the fact that we were in motion, sailing through the air toward it, aware only of a bright orange blur on the ground somewhere far beneath us.
It read, "Warning: Explosives Testing Ground. Do Not Enter."
Ohhhhh. So that's why we weren't supposed to enter. Got it.
It was during this time that the train passed us by, mocking our misfortune with each clack of its wheels. We tried not to make eye contact.
As we drove sheepishly back the way we came, Abby said, "Look, Mom, mist!" I turned around to see the truck being filled with clouds of heavy, lung-sucking dust. All I could do was smile in my heart as I pulled the neck of my shirt up over my mouth to ensure oxygen. It only took a small amount of self-control to not say a word about being right, right, right. I was able to do this because I was so relieved that we could finally just head home. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Later, after the mist had settled.
This didn't stop the family outing from coming. It came. Somehow or other, it came just the same. As we finally crossed the now-clear train track, I took a deep, dust-filled breath and prayed that we would someday cross this track again, on our way home, and that it would be sooner rather than later.
We arrived at the VR, stepped over feces, cooked up our tin foil dinners, fished whole-heartedly (some of us), were insulted by fellow reservoir-dwellers, and called it good.
Now it was time to drive through the hills and look for deer. The evening became very pleasant and the roads weren't quite as dusty. We were in good spirits because #1, we were still alive, and #2, the truck was still running. There were a lot of attractive bucks roaming the hills (according to Jason) and it was actually kind of enjoyable. We drove and drove and drove.
And then I saw it. A humble, wise creature, perched atop a fence post. An owl. A real owl! There to bless our fortune and misfortune and make the whole trip (possibly) worth it.
I made Jason slam on the brakes, and as we skidded through gravel and dirt once again, I exclaimed, "Kids, do you know how rare this is? We have never seen an owl in the wild before! Ever! And now there is one right in front of us, just waiting for me to take his picture!" I snapped away as he looked at us with pity and respect. A moment later, he took flight, probably to go tell all his friends about us.
We drove away with reverence at what had just happened. But that wasn't the end of the owl sightings. Suddenly, the kids were yelling that there was another one! Then a few moments later, another one after that! How could this be? Were we being blessed in owls to make up for our abundant misfortune/lack of judgement on somebody's part that wasn't mine? In the end we saw a total of eleven owls. Eleven!
We drove home as the full moon settled over the desert and it was finally too dark to spot any more deer unless they bounded in the road in front of us. We had a fun little stop at the one and only store/gas station in the town of Vernon. It was closed, with a hand-written sign on the door that read, "Sorry, we are out of gas until Monday." I'm very grateful that we were not also out of gas; otherwise, we might still be there. I was about to snap a picture of the quaint little note, but the owner of the gas station suddenly appeared, probably startled and astonished by the presence of actual humans at his store. He let Jason in to buy each of us our very own ice cream bar. I didn't even worry about the sticky bath of goo that my children were creating in the dusty back seat as they worked on their ice cream. I was just grateful to be going home. In one piece.
If you've seen the movie The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which I highly recommend, you are familiar with the closing scene in which Mr. Fox points out some universal truths. One is that all foxes are slightly allergic to linoleum... but it's cool to the paw. And that they say their tree may never grow back... but someday something will. In the wisdom of Mr. Fox, family outings might be pain and torture... but they provide memories. It might cost $228 to repair the back window of a truck that an airborne 4-wheeler sailed through... but now the new window has a convenient sliding door. I guess good can come from all things. But I'm curious to know... do YOU think family outings are worth it? Please answer my question: Family Outings, Blessing or Curse? You may reply with a simple B or C. Dish away.
Now how many people can say that? I know of exactly one - my husband. Incidentally, there was a bear IN the den at the time. A mad bear, cornered by seven hound dogs. What a fun thing for a little boy to see. Let's lower him by his feet and hang him upside down five feet from a mad bear! Here, random friend I met on MonsterMuleys.com, you take one leg, I'll take the other...
That wasn't the only confession Jason made after returning from his bear hunt in southern Utah this weekend.
"I also put the boys out on several ledges that were very dangerous."
Maybe some things that you might not want to share with your wife if you ever want to spend unsupervised time with your children. Ever. Again.
Just a thought.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Jason wants to spend time with the boys and take them hunting. I just sleep a lot better once they are home and safe. And I kind of wish they would keep all the details to themselves. Sheesh!
Seriously, this child of mine. I guess it is my fault not only for buying an enormous box of goldfish, but for being foolish enough to think that goldfish + Dora on the TV would = some time for me to practice the piano. And not only did Jake dump out the entire (new!) box, he sat and swam around in the middle of them and crunched them into a beautiful fine powder with his fingers. Pure joy to a little almost 18-month-old! I can not even tell you how many times a day we have incidences like this. The other night I bathed him, put his pajamas on, then proceeded to bathe another one of my dirty children. I was sitting right there, on the (closed) toilet, when suddenly this appeared in front of me:
How did he get past me, into the tub and get the washcloth on his head without me even noticing? Maybe the problem is me and my spaced-out, sleep-deprived brain. And yes, most children play with rubber duckies in the tub. My kids play with duck decoys. Real ones with creepy red eyes that they got at the hunting expo last year and can't live without.
So I know you are jealous that I am married to a hunter and my life is non-stop, constant excitement. Seriously. There is never a dull moment. Take Monday night, for example. I didn't really have anything planned for Family Home Evening. I mean, I was planning to have it, but that's about as far as I was with it. So when Jason's mom called in the afternoon and said she had a raccoon in a trap that needed to be shot, well hey, there's FHE right there.
After dinner we loaded up the kids and the bows and arrows and headed to Grandma's. I thought a gun would be easier than bows and arrows, but Jason informed me that it is illegal to shoot a gun within city limits. Also, I should add that my mother in law called the fish and game to see what to do with the little critter and they said NOT to let it go, that raccoons are nuisances and need to be... done away with. Well, the job proved to be a little harder than originally planned. Apparently raccoons are kind of like cockroaches and they just refuse to die. I was inside trying to block out any mental images of what was going on outside when the boys came in with the news that well, the raccoon was still holding on, but they were working on it. Finally Jason came in and said the job was done. I will spare you any further detail. Okay, well, I thought, that was bad but now we can move on. Wrong! Jason had the awesome idea of taking the raccoon home so he could skin it for the boys. We watched Where the Red Fern Grows recently as a family, which turned out to be a horrible idea since the whole thing is about catching raccoons and turning them into coon skin caps. So yeah, we should do that! Just because Billy did in the backwoods of the Ozarks 100 years ago. Sweet. As a result, the raccoon came home with us in a garbage bag in the back of the van. I was not okay with that. It didn't matter.
I was hoping Jason would forget about his little "project" and end up disposing of the remains after a few days. Wrong again. I returned home from running errands on Tuesday afternoon to find the VERY disturbing image of a creature with its back legs tied to a rope, tied to the RAILING of the garage steps and my husband sitting right exactly where I park the van, just skinning away. When he saw me, he yelled, "Don't look!" but it was too late. Fortunately for you, I don't have the words to describe a skinned raccoon. "Horrific" is a start, but just imagine a shaved cat, but about 5 times bigger, hanging from its feet while your six-year-old watches in fascination and, well, there was some blood involved. I'm sorry to have to tell you that, but I'm the one who has to STEP in it every time I step out of my vehicle now. I do actually step around it, but it isn't easy, and it provokes very negative thoughts in my mind about raccoons and hunting in general.
I'm sorry if you were hoping that was the end of the story. So was I, but it's not. The raccoon skin made its home on the back of Jason's 4-wheeler in the garage for a few days. It was there the last time I saw it and tried not to make eye contact with it. Then last night I went down to the basement deep freeze to get a bag of chicken. There was a Kohl's bag with a suspicious lump in it inside the freezer. I thought, hmmm, must be some deer meat that Jason's dad brought him from their hunt last week or something (forgetting that Jason's dad isn't HOME yet from the hunt last week). Later I mentioned it to Jason and he said, "Oh yeah, I put the raccoon hide in the downstairs freezer so it doesn't rot". Well, if that isn't just great news. I just touched a dead raccoon in a Kohl's bag. Why was I born? What am I supposed to learn from this? I'm trying to be a better person, honestly I am, but I just don't understand why these kind of experiences are necessary for me in the eternal scheme of things. I guess I still have a lot to learn. I just wish I could learn it all in a very sanitary, death-free, non-redneck sort of way.
My mom always used to say that fall was her favorite season. I thought that was really weird. What could be better than summer? Or spring or winter? Then I realized she said that every year right around the time school was starting... hmmm, suspicious. Did she actually ENJOY us leaving her home with nothing to do? I couldn't imagine that! Until I had kids. Now fall is also MY favorite season, but there are several additional reasons. Mostly food-related. I also love the cooler temperatures, the colors, the change of pace, and of course hunting. Well, not really on the last one, but I'm trying to be supportive here, people. My life is what it is. Soooo, on to the update. The kids and I had a great trip to Burley while Jason was on a hunt somewhere (I can't keep track anymore). I went hunting. And then there was Halloween.
This is at a cute little place called The Pumpkin Patch. It is north of Paul, which is north of Burley. Who knew?
The kids with my cute, wonderful, fun, adorable mom.
Heading out to pick pumpkins. I love how Jake is always just trying to keep up!
Abby got to pick out a gourd. She named him Gordy.
Jakey in the pumpkin patch.
On the hunt for the perfect pumpkin.
One of the highlights of going to Burley: golf cart rides with Grandma.
I love this picture: my dad teaching Dallin how to play "Porcupines have Prickly Quills". So precious!
And now on to hunting. We hiked up to the top of West Canyon and the sunrise was amazing, as always.
Oh, he's so proud of his little wifey! Mission accomplished.
Love the sunrise over Timp!
Jason and his brother Chad on the look out for deer. We actually saw some and took a few shots, but no deer were fated to die that day, which was all right with me.
We actually did a theme this year for Halloween! Kind of amazing. Luke was a football player (Steelers).
Dallin was also a football player, but a Chicago Bear.
Abby was the referee, and Jake was the runaway football.
He was kind of a homeless little football, but what do you do.
We had a fun night of trick or treating in Grandma Yates' neighborhood. This is the best picture I could get of all four kids, which is kind of sad, but not really, because it is our life. Jake is out of focus, but I love the big grin on his face. Dallin has figured out that if he looks at the camera it will be over much sooner. Luke can only focus on his sucker. And Abby is off in space. Why do I love my kids so much? They just crack me up.
