Odds and Odder

Pardon me. I have been duly chastised about the state of our weather. Apparently some people believe it isn't really cold until the wind chill hits 40 below or Brett Faivre uses hand warmers. My humble apologies.

What is it about babies that when they start to walk, they suddenly no longer want to cuddle and have their grandmother lavish adoration on them? Obviously, I have forgotten much in the 20-some years since I had my own little ones. And I would think that having your fingers stuck once in the VCR would be enough to learn a lesson, but no, we have to do this several times, always with much tears and accusing looks. I had plans of bringing all the Christmas stuff downstairs this weekend, wondering how I'm going to put up a 6' tree high enough with 8' ceilings so that little hands don't get into it.

It has also been brought to my attention, rightfully so, that while everyone knows by now I'm a military mom, very few know I'm a Lumberjack mom. My daughter is about to complete her life as a college student and graduate from Northern Arizona University. She is going to be a teacher, a path I once started on, but left right at the finish line. A good teacher can make a difference for a lifetime, and I am very confidant she'll be one of the great ones. Hey! Where's my sweatshirt??

Shotgun season began this morning. Well, actually it began last night with the traditional male bonding ritual at The Well. Mandatory sobriety DOES have it perks! After hearing Old Sarge tell me for the fourth time in five minutes, "...and honey, I don't even know where they came from, 'cuz I was trying to leave and your brother LEFT me there, and then there was THREE beers sitting in front of me..." and all the while I am thinking how great I am going to feel in the morning.
So, hunting apparel having already been washed in unscented, non-color enhancing detergent, Sarge has his shower first with his human-scent masking body wash, so that my Sun Dried Black Raspberry shampoo and shower gel won't stink him up. The layers start piling on: turtleneck, flannel-lined jeans, wool socks. Then the camo gear. Off goes the great hunter, into the woods. Last year for Christmas, the daughter and I bought him a VERY nice tree stand that had a gun rail around it. I thought that was the best feature, because after over 20 years in the military of sleeping anywhere, any time, Sarge is completely capable of falling asleep in his stand. And has. But, he took it back for a different model. If he falls out of the damn tree, God knows I tried!