Born to Hunt-FORCED to Work

While at work for the many months prior to opening day, I foresee my husband carefully allocate days/perhaps weeks/hoping & praying for months to be taken for HIS hunting season. I predict him acting a lot like our younger daughter after indulging a piece of chocolate she can’t handle. After consumption, I imagine Jimmie sitting in a fetal position, rocking to and fro, feeling as though he’s in a well-padded white box wrapped in a very tight white jacket, twitching and wanting to climb walls and/or hang from the ceiling! Possibly appearing like this:

Note to reader:  Possible Side Effects of a Mlinar’s Consumption of Chocolate; direct effects of Mlinar’s Born to Hunt-Forced to Work Syndrome

           Therefore, as an unlicensed psychiatrist, I am diagnosing my husband with the disease of Born to Hunt-FORCED to Work Syndrome, which can only be distorted by participating in the physical and the mental behaviors for pre-hunting/hunting/ post-hunting activities. These activities to include but not limited to archery & hunting forums; observations from informational websites such as You-Tube & Facebook; and constant email(s) for every week(s) advertisements from any of the following stores: Gander Mountain, Cabela’s, Eastman’s, Sportsman Warehouse, and/or Bass Pro!

All activities participated in has played an intricate part in misrepresenting the Syndrome’s symptoms through horn-porn and stock-trading as well as introducing other excuses for any of the following family activities:

          •fondling guns and/or bows

•shooting the newly made ammo using the new supplies

purchased which THEN leads to our house smelling as a high-class

brothel due to the odor of Hoppe’s gun cleaning solvent

•let’s not forget any other hunting gadget(s) which requires testing

 by the Epicenter of Stupidity AND then reporting the discoveries 

I’d like to report curving of the disorder’s side-effects has only affected the Mlinar Clan, but there have been instances when “Barney,” my husband’s devotional hunting/stock-trading/horn-porn watching, buddy has joined us. During one of Jimmie’s symptoms, “Barney” graciously helped Jimmie and our daughter to load her beautiful successful hunt and get it back to town for processing:

The First Hunt with Daddy:  WOHOO!

I wish I could have been there but I hear the over-whelming experience led to one exultant young lady, who now also possesses symptoms of the Mlinar Disease.

P.S. When our youngest begins to possess symptoms of the Mlinar Disease (again refer to first picture above), I am purchasing additional insurance whether it is vehicle/over-the-road vehicle (further explained in future blog, What Happens at Hunting Camp Stays at Hunting Camp), house, medical, and anything else to counter-act the outcome!

The Epicenter of Stupidity

         Over the past fourteen years of knowing and being married to my husband, I have discovered that the world of hunting encompasses many physical and mental rituals almost replicating those that OCD suffers possess. Of course, ALL of my husband’s rituals are performed at or near the Epicenter of Stupidity also known as the kitchen sink.

Most people would test and/or experiment contents that sprays highly irritating liquids, coming out of a bottle at rapid speeds outside where it is not confined to a small area. This would allow the experimenter to not experience any concerns as the developing odorous clouds slowly begins to dissipate. Furthermore, they would NOT test it during or on Super Bowl Sunday-unless you are MY husband!

In previous weeks, we had discussed allowing our girls to begin to walk to and from school. Only, I was completely against the idea unless we got them a taser! Jimmie stated that we couldn’t allow them go to school possessing a taser. Then get kicked out all because Mommy is paranoid. He informed me that he could carry it too, during bow hunting season in case there was a mountain lion or any other predator scouting him (note to reader: I am a good wife. I DID read the article he suggested to me out of Field & Stream about a mountain lion that was scouting a bow hunter. The article was AMAZING and I highly recommend the read). Anyway, Jimmie pointed out that a taser really wouldn’t be as productive. Daaaamn! I really dislike his way of thinking especially when it throws all of my rationality out…okay, fine…based off of his logically, well thought out, argument, the pepper spray would suffice. I envisioned: one child could carry the pepper-spray while the other child carried the cell phone. I was not happy about it because I REALLY wanted a taser! Plus, I now have to chalk up ONE lost battle, which I NEVER would openly admit to my husband that he is/was correct.

After our debate, I write debate because, again, I REALLY wanted a taser; we were off to purchase some pepper spray. While at one of the local stores, we agreed on a hand-held pepper spray, purchased it, and proceeded back to the house. Walking in the door to our house, Jimmie says, “come on girls follow me,” and heads toward the kitchen. I kick off my shoes and head towards the couch in the front room to flip through the channels on the T.V. anticipating the best part of Super Bowl Sunday, half-time. However, half-time would be on much later in the day, so I figured we had plenty of time to show the girls how to use the hand-held pepper spray before the next day. Apparently, I was wrong.

Suddenly, my throat begins to quickly shut, my eyes are watering, and I am having a hard time forming any words. I think I notice something or someone running toward the front door. Through squinting eyes, I see a developing red cloud exploding out of the kitchen doorway and realize the running figure was my husband. Jimmie is opening the front door and the girls are piling out. Shoeless, I too head for the front door and our dog, Soda; tail upright is at my heels.

Gasping for air, Jimmie asks, “Where’s Stitch?” Stitch is our little Chihuahua puppy, which at that time was extremely new to the Mlinar Clan; he is the cutest little thing approximately three quarters of foot in height and weighs approximately 3.5± pounds, wet. Usually, he does not leave my lap, and I am not sure why he did this day perhaps he wanted a drink of water out of his bowl from in the kitchen.

Standing in the snow with no shoes, tears in my eyes, and a burning in my throat, I softly say, “I think...”and point towards the kitchen. Jimmie heads back into the red hovering cloud to search for the three pound Chihuahua. I bend down so that I am closer to the entry way floor to briefly take a closer look for Stitch. I peer into the house. From where I am at, I can barely make out Stitch’s sluggishly brown little body leaning against the refrigerator, coughing, one paw in the air as if to say, “Icarumba!” I am thinking, please, be brave little doggie; stay away from the light! Tears are streaming down Jimmie’s cheeks as he heroically brings Stitch to join us standing, shoeless, outside in the snow by the front door enjoying the in taking of fresh air.

Little Stitch!

As a result of the events that took place at the kitchen sink on that cold winter day; we had to open ALL the windows, waiting 4-5 hour for the cloud to dissipate enough so we could enter back into our home. I’d like to say this is the only time that something like this has happened. But, do you realize how many variations of fire starters there are! Good Lord-Heaven above! Please, help me and our children!! There are so many magazines and so many websites that HAVE willingly published and/or posted to educate the hunting public. MY husband feels it is HIS duty to test and to compare results for each and every one of them. I am more than confident in reporting that the pepper spray experiment has not and will not be the last to be performed at the Epicenter of Stupidity.