so we got married. in August. that happened much before the last posts I did, but I got caught up in the Q&As from quite a few idiots trying to tell people they understood local economics. Thankfully, those people weren’t elected, and we all got back to bitching about snowclearing as per the usual go of things.
so yes. married.
props to Everett for snapping and Kelsey for holding the equipment.
so what happened after we got hitched?
well, there was the local election stuff. and then there was remembrance day.
and around all of that these things happened:
that’s right. I asked Roger Mooking if he farted on the set of Chopped Canada and he answered. I’m pretty sure that’s been the defining moment for the last few months.
actually, I have to say, whoever’s in charge of Chopped Canada’s twitter account does a phenomenal job of responding and retweeting things. Though, for some reason, they never did retweet my screen grab of Dean McDermott looking confused after one contestant described how to not fuck things up with your wife. I don’t really get why they wouldn’t do that.
I also don’t get why the fuck Dean McDermott was hired as host in the first place, but if that’s the hardship one must endure, then so be it.
By the way, that’s the first deer I’ve even taken. Growing up, we always focused on waterfowl. I’d listen to my dad and uncle tell stories about deer hunting, and they were always entertaining, but we never really bothered with it when I was a kid. No one else in the family liked venison, so I suppose that had a lot to do with it.
Because of medical issues, my dad couldn’t come with me. I suppose I’ll always be disappointed about that. I think that it’s an experience that’s better shared, but I had him on the phone minutes after I shot it and I could hear in his voice that he was happy about it. I know he’ll probably de disappointed about it too, not being able to share the first deer his son took in person, but he did pass on his skinning knives to me, so in a way he did help with it.
I grew up always knowing those knives were tucked away on the top of a shelf in the basement. I only ever knew what the handles looked like from peeking at them. these aren’t Buck knives or anything else you’d find in a Cabelas catalogue. These are hand made, Canadian knives that haven’t dulled in close to 30 years. just holding them, you can immediately tell that they’re probably the best skinning blade you’ve ever had in your hand. So, when my dad gave his two to me, I thought that I should add to the group so that when I pass them along years down then road, there’ll be two generations of knives going. Hopefully, that’ll turn into three way into the future.
Here’s the one thing that all those stories he and my uncle never included about deer hunting; when you’re alone, and you have to haul that fucker into the back of your truck, they are fucking. heavy. as all be. next season, I’m going to try to rig up a winch or something.
I grew up shooting, so there’s always that familiarity when you pull the trigger. The one thing that doesn’t convey is if you go hunting. The first time you know you had good placement. That first animal. I never really thought that after close to 18 years of goose hunting, you could feel that first time rush again. I suppose that when it’s a new target, it ramps you up all over again.
so. freezer full of free range, all natural meat. along with all the goose. freezer full of organic game. delicious.
right. what else.
we have a fetus that thinks it’s a secret agent.
and has little dance parties when bacon is ingested.
in other words, awesome.