Elk Hunting

Beginning tomorrow, I get to participate in that millenia-old practice of hunting for food, the four legged, hard-to-find kind. Elk.

I love the challenge, the exposure to the elements, the physical ferocity and mental determination necessary to hunt at 7,000+ feet above sea level in knee deep snow and single digit cold. I love stalking and winning my own food.

I hate packing, cooking and preparing for the trip. It makes me realize how ill-prepared we humans are to face harsh environments. We must have adequate shelter, clothing, food, directional support, and rescue provisions.

I love to hunt, I love to brave less than perfect elements, but I am not a cave woman. I want to have a warm drink and soft bed when I come in for the night.

Why Does This Scare Me?

The only thing funner, more exciting in terms of television watching, than watching Ice Road Truckers battle the elements to get their load to isolated frozen communities, is watching my husband watch IRT. Actually, no, it is only instructional...

When I met my husband, he was a truck driver, on his way to law school. He had driven massive Euclid pit trucks in a copper pit in Nevada. He had near misses with the huge trucks on narrow, recently constructed roads winding hundreds of feet up the the surface. He remembers, viscerally, the close calls when he watches these shows and, years later, the true meaning comes back to haunt him. It is a PTSD-like experience, accompanied by elevated heart rate, blood pressure and temperature. He gets a lightheadedness, a near panicky reaction.

At the time, decades ago, he did what he had to do. He was in the moment, dealing second by second with a vibrating resistant steering wheel, a steep drop off, and a sliding, slewing load. Death or disaster was near at hand. Now, his body and mind remember, and allow him to process; the fear, the anxiety, and the flight or fight reaction. Problem is, he doesn't need the input now. Dang, he had a cerebral hemorrhage only seven months ago...But, the body makes no distinction between then and now. And, so he feels everything, but has a morbid attraction/curiosity to the show. Maybe in a 'facing the fear' kind of way.

That, my friend, is PTSD. In a nasty nutshell...

Stalking the Elusive Elk

Hunting season #1, Mule Deer, is over.

Hunting season #2, Rocky Mountain Elk, begins next Saturday.

I am finishing the laundry from #1, sorting and repacking for #2. Since all of the hunting gear is at our home, the kids need us to pack for them so they can go.

This season, it means that I pack for two sons and myself. Camo, cold weather unders, overalls, hats, socks, gloves, guns, ammo, backpacks, survival gear, boots.

Additionally, I pack food for everyone, most of which needs to be cooked first so it can be quickly reheated after a day of hunting. This year's menu is meatloaf, chicken enchiladas, turkey and dressing, calzone, broccoli cheesy rice casserole, and whatever else makes me drool as I am planning and shopping.

I work everyday but Thursday, and I have a dental appointment that day, so I guess I better get busy...

For now, my house resembles a sporting goods store that just had a grenade lobbed into it...

What A Real Man Does

A real man is a woman's best friend. He will never stand her up and never let her down.

He will reassure her when she feels insecure and comfort her after a bad day.

He will inspire her to do things she never thought she could do; to live without fear and forget regret.

He will enable her to express her deepest emotions and give in to her most intimate desires.

He will make sure she always feels as though she's the most beautiful woman in the room and will enable her to be the most confident, sexy, seductive, invincible....

No wait... sorry... I'm thinking of wine.

That's what wine does...

Never mind....