Thursday, September 25, 2008

Hunting, hormones, and a question

My son, the Prince, is far too busy for Mom these days as the heart of hunting season is upon him. Not sure how or why, but my seriously ADD/ADHD child (well they both are) has developed a love and actual talent for bow hunting. Last year he managed to bag his deer and elk, which is no small achievement if you have ever hunted. Especially if you know anyone with ADHD like my son who remaining perfectly still is near impossible This year he is over the moon that he got his antelope with a bow, which is even harder as you are literally in the open and if you move wrong or any little thing, they are long gone. To top it off it turned out to be a rather unusual horn configuration, so he is quite pleased. I was just tickled that during his last stop here in August I finally was able to unload the damn antelope head from my living room wall that I have had to stare at for 22 years now! See, when I shot the darn thing I was literally over 8 months pregnant with him. Told him since the day he was born it was his, not mine and when he got his own place he HAD to take it.

Now-take a moment to reflect on this mental picture. Skinny, blonde bimbo gains 75 pounds with the pregnancy, ALL belly, is unable to see her feet or go more than 5 minutes without having to empty the now pea size bladder. So, her husband and father-in-law insist that she MUST uphold the family tradition and go hunting on opening day of antelope season, middle of freaking no where, miles of dirt road, up and out at 4am. Blonde bimbo, not one to back down from the taunting of "couldn't hit the broad side of a barn-why are we taking her again" comments, hauls her sorry ass out of bed, endures the miles of bouncing road SMASHED in the cab of a truck with THREE males. All the while unable to breathe with the constant foot protrusions in the rib cage on my lungs, not to mention the unbearable fact that stopping to pee is completely out of the question. At last, the first shimmer of light appears in front of the now tear soaked eyes of the blonde bimbo ,who sees a VAGUE outline of 4 legged creatures in the VERY distant plateau. Dumb bimbo blonde casually says, "Uh, guys, isn't that antelope right over there?".

First mistake. Folks, you have never seen such a sudden stop from a 50mph forward momentum in your life. The only thing saving the blonde bimbo from projecting thru the windshield was the 75lb belly which was already wedged into the steering wheel and dash board. Ya, ya, ya, good god what a unsafe bunch of idiots, but folks when buck fever strikes, the male species no longer resembles human quality, trust me.

Out we pile, shhhing each other, cussing too many arms, legs, and one massive belly. Now the REAL dilemma. Who gets the first shot? Three strong men who have done this their literally entire life, gotten the goat every damn year, or the dumb blonde bimbo with the 75 pound belly who, while having had to endure this ritual every year since I could walk had NEVER been given the chance to do it myself? Hhmmm. Yeah, that one took awhile to figure out. Finally the dumb blonde bimbo says, "For God's sake. You hauled my fat ass out here in the freezing cold to do this and I saw them first. Get the hell out of my way."

Speechless girls, the men were speechless. Especially the now ex-husband who had already learned over several months that to meddle with me and my hormones was NOT something anyone with half a brain would want to try. So, out comes my trusty 30-06 gun that was my Dad's pride and joy. By now, the Father-In-Law decides if I'm armed, he better just let me shoot the antelope or it wasn't going to be pretty. So, he starts"Are you sure you can do this? Are you sure you know where to shoot? Are you sure that gun isn't going to knock you on your ass?" One look from blonde bimbo and the questions stopped cold. Instead came, "Ok sweetheart, let's just have you lean on the hood of the truck. Here we go, this will be better. Ok, now aim over here, take off the safety, take your time....." Again the look from the blonde bimbo and talking stops.

By now my mind is racing with "What the hell have I gotten myself into? What the hell do I do again? Oh yeah, duh, if a guy can do this I sure as hell can." Ease the gun onto the hood of the truck, find the antelope, half of which are now walking around eating breakfast, look down the barrel thru the scope, WOW, that's a big one right there, and WOW, it even has little black nubby deals on the head-horns. Yep, that's the one I want, right there. Sight again, cuss the 75 pound belly that is now WIDE awake from the adrenaline surge in my body pulsing him to a bloody pulp, hold your breath, cuss the child who won't let you, hold your breath, look again, yep, right in the "x" marks the spot, aim for the heart....................oh yeah blond bimbo, you gotta pull the trigger..............oh yeah, hold that puppy HARD on your shoulder or it will HURT..........................hold breath, aim, close eyes, squeeze...................................................BANG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Silence, dead, complete total silence. Three male voices, quiver, sniff, "No way. You have got to be kidding me. and a distinct "Wow." Blonde bimbo finally opens her eyes, looks, sees antelope herd now running EVERYWHERE. Shock, humiliation, disgust, anger. Looking frantically at the men, wait, they aren't moving, they aren't yelling, where was the dreaded "I told you so." ? Hmmmm. "Did I miss it?" blonde bimbo quitely says, head now bowed in shame. Father-In-Law looks at blonde bimbo, back at antelope herd, and says "Hell, no you didn't miss, you dropped the damn thing in one shot. Never seen a shot like that from a girl."

Blonde bimbo frantically searchs the horizon, looks to other men, "What, you mean I actually did it? Really? Where the hell did he go?" Ex husband looks at me, shakes his head, and says, "yes dear, you really did it. He's laying over there, walked one step and dropped like a rock. I knew I loved you for a reason!" Blonde bimbo still in shock, suddenly grasps the fact that she did it, by gosh, I DID IT!!!!!!!! Yelling begins, then, blonde bimbo does the dreaded happy dance, hopping, yelling, dancing like a child on crack! Father-in-law is horrified and yelling, "Stop it for God's sake, we are a hundred miles from town and you can't have this kid out here!!" Blonde bimbo, smiles, yells, jumps and hugs the speechless men, "come on you sissy's, let's go get him!" Blonde bimbo wedges the 75 pound belly thru the barb wire fence, walking begins, and continues forever....250 yards. At last the ex runs ahead, yelling, "wow, right thru the heart, clean thru shot" . Blonde bimbo reaches the scene, excited, nervous, pleased. I really did this? Wow. Ex hubby holds up the head, "nice set of horns babe".

Blonde bimbo inches closer, bends over the whole 3 inches her belly allows to get a closer look. OH MY GOD!!!! Blond bimbo begins crying, sobbing, snot flying crying kind of blubbering. Guys stare in silence totally freaked out by the bimbo. Ex says, "what, are you ok, oh my, what is the matter?" I can see the looks, the frantic pacing gauging the distance to the truck, town, how the heck are we going to get her out of here if she has the kid kind of looks. Blonde bimbo suddenly gets a grip on her hormonal self, wipes the snot, and looks them dead in the eyes and says,
"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THEY HAD EYELASHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Yes it is true, antelope have the longest, prettiest eyelashes that a girl could only imagine in her dreams. I was fine with the kill the animal, I was fine with he is dead by your hand, I was TOTALLY fine with it ,because folks, we did this for the meat. Yeah, men horn hunt, but bottom line is come end of season, the top priority is meat-not the size of the horn on the head. WE NEEDED this meat. $100 tag for meat is much better than comparable price for beef for a limited income family like we were soon to be. So yeah, am I a hunter? Damn right. But, for crying out loud I helped my dad hunt deer every year, went along, helped finding, plugged my ears for the shooting, held the leg for gutting, haul it to the truck, the whole nine yards. Yeah, they had eyelashes, plain jane run of the mill animal lashes. Never struck me with even one second of thought.

But put me out there 8.5 months pregnant, 75 pounds of moving belly, with the gun that dropped him like a rock from a sizable distance and the ONLY thing that brought one second of remorse was those damn eyelashes. Seriously. Eyelashes for crying out loud! I won't even bore you with the rest of the story except to say if we had owned a video camera I have NO DOUBT we would have been top prize winner for America's funniest videos. No one would have come close. See, the 4th member of our party was the brother-in-law, who only months before had rolled the scraper he was running a fractured multiple levels in his cervical spine and was wearing one of those unearthly halos that encompass the entire head in metal with the large bars that project down to rest on the shoulders, back, and chest. He needless to say can't turn his head, or look down, so every movement is exaggerated, kind of like the blonde bimbo belly. Just visualize him chasing me over sagebrush bushes at a run with the full bladder of the antelope. Period. I am telling you we would have had the prize for sure.

So, at last, we get back to town, hang the darn thing and it starts again. "You seriously have to get that one mounted." No way, no dead animal with lashes on my wall, no way, no how. Blonde bimbo loses this fight girls, never had a prayer of a chance. See, none of the men that year had one even close to that size, nor were they able to shoot theirs in such a way as to preserve the original cape needed for a full mount with no holes. Yep, the sucker got mounted. So, several short weeks later, seemingly endless hours of labor (during the whole deal my doc was FREAKING OUT that his duck season trip began in mere hours), my first born child came to visit. Beautiful dark haired, long eyelash, screaming male. Love at first sight, hormones still raging, crying, blubbering, snot flying begins again. Speachless ex-husband cautiously says "what's wrong?" Blubbering blonde bimbo says, "See, now it all makes sense. It was HIS antelope, not mine. Look at those lashes!!!!!!!!!!!"

Everyday of his life I have stared at the head on the wall with a mixure of pride, remorse, longing, and love. See, my theory is this. Yeah, the dumb blonde went along with the idea, but I am convinced that the well place kick to my lungs miliseconds before I actually shot the beast with lashes is what led me to the perfect shot, at the perfect time, in the perfect spot. It was the kid's fault. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I have never shot another thing since that day, not out of fear, lack of opportunity, or desire. I just know it was one of those once in a life time deals that can never be repeated. Why mess with perfection?

So, for 22 years I dusted the damn head, gave him his yearly bath with Woolite rug cleaner, plugged a red nose on him at Christmas, felt his big brown eyes follow my every movement thru the house thru that massive veil of lashes. Irritating as it may have been, it was still a reminder of a wonderful day of adventure with my then unknown son, and it made me smile. So, for 22 years I reminded him it was HIS antelope, not mine, and by God he was taking it when he got his own place. Years of yeah, mom, can't take it now, blah blah blah. Now it's hanging on HIS wall, eyelashes and all. So, the million dollar moment came, "So, Prince, this one you just shot? Is it as big as mine?" Silence. "No Mom, not even close, but it's a freak so I'm going to Euro mount it and hang it right by yours." That folks, is the sweetest thing a Mom can ever hope to hear come out of a grown son's mouth. Perfection, don't mess with it.

Now, the dreaded question. The head hung on my living room wall for the last 13 years, same spot. Now I have the dreaded dirt surrounded clean spot shaped like the base of the antelope mount staring at me, but at least no eyelashes. Don't even suggest a. wash the damn walls blonde bimbo, or b. paint the damn walls blonde bimbo, or even c. shoot another one and hang it in the same spot. None of them are happening in the near future. No sir, no way, no how.

So, what the hell am I going to put in the spot of my missing eyelash beast? Can't move the pics from other walls, cause ya know they will look the same damn way. Gotta think of something quick before Prince Charming hauls in a saddle, or god help me his bull riding chaps. Seriously, this could be war, because every day he looks longingly at the bare spot, shakes is balding head, and mutters, "What the hell did you give it to him for? Now what the hell am I going to brag about?"

Edited to add photo by Sue's request-Here you are, the eyelash beasts in all their glory! Now, the photo was taken likely around 1992ish, so the home holding the beast, not to mention the adorable Prince Charming have changed a lot!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Life worries never end

It seems my dear Princess can't catch a break these days. Yesterday she awoke with terrible abdominal pain, that resolved somewhat but worsened at work. She came home around 3 seeking mom's advice. Sent her off to the urgent care her new insurance uses. Ya, no help. No equipment for a pelvic exam, can't refer to get an ultra sound, blah, blah, blah. Sent her to the ER which took until midnight with eventual diagnosis of large ovarian cyst. Wouldn't refer her to a doc, instead insist she get it from her primary (whom her new insurance will not allow her to see) for a referral to gyn. Days like these make me seriously wonder how I ever thought the medical field was so much fun.

My foot is still a mess, changes areas of black/blue/green every day. Trying to wean out of the boot, but it kills me if I do much. Guess I'm not superwoman anymore and isn't going to heal as fast as I expected.

Work is so darn busy I can't see any light at the end of this tunnel. I can barely see over the paper stacks at this point to even know where to begin. Oh well, job security for now.

Luckily the weather is a tad bit cooler this week, although I seriously do not enjoy the thought of winter. See, rarely do we get the luxury of fall here. Rather one day it is 95, the next it is freezing or snowing etc. I hate the cold, I hate the snow, give me heat any day! Sad part is I am just now getting 4 bloom buds on my angel trumpet and am holding my breath that it will just cut some slack long enough to see one open. My plumaria is looking pretty hopeless. I have leaves on the twigs now, but am not seeing any signs of blooms yet. The tomatoes are barely starting to turn, although we have had some seriously good cherry ones, and a small variety of yellow that are sweet as sugar. I managed to hoard enough for a large batch of salsa for the Prince Charming, but no where near where I was last year with several quarts canned and ready.

I have managed to get a few jars of apple butter, plum jam, peach jam, and rhubarb canned. I really need to do more, but no time or ambition at this point to do it. Pretty sad. Haven't been able to bring myself to even put away the piles of wedding stuff that are still smack in the middle of my living room and office. It just makes me too sad and mad to touch it right now. Still awaiting the final shipments too which will only make it worse. Tried to offer some of the pumpkins to the Princess for her house for Halloween. I was officially told NOTHING related to the wedding was coming anywhere near her or her house. Well, so much for that brilliant idea, better find some storage tubs to get it out of our sight then. If only she would finish moving the rest of her lifelong collection of "stuff" out of my house to hers I might have room to put some of it. Just don't have the heart to push her right now, and now she doesn't feel good which equals one VERY cranky 18 year old for sure.

Now she is calling wanting to know if she has to have a springform pan to make a cheescake. OMG! To be young again, wait, never mind.