When I was attending college, my husband
didn’t get to hunt much. As a matter of
fact, his hunting was extremely limited to much smaller game such as frogs. One of the most memorable frog hunting trips
was taking our oldest daughter to Crow Creek.
During this particular trip, I was pregnant with our twins. I couldn’t go more than a few miles…I am
saying miles but actually it was more like 25 steps…without making a pit stop
so it was a good thing that Crow Creek was a short distance southeast of town, having
the means to a rest stop and let’s not forget the variety of blue-rooms and/or
other outdoor “potties.”
While making a stop at one of the
“potties,” Jim caught a frog for our daughter and put it inside an empty
McDonald’s cup he found. Our daughter’s
job was to keep the lid on the cup and we’d set it free when we reached Crow Creek. I’d like to say we made it to Crow Creek with
no abnormal events but who are we kidding here!
Our daughter was sitting in the back seat proudly holding the frog
secure inside the cup while Jimmie and I sat in the front. An infinitesimal amount of time after we made
our turn towards Crow Creek, we hear our three year old squeal,
“OOOHHHHH!”
I turned around to see our blond-haired,
blue eyed, little girl dressed in her camo frog-hunting attire had succumbed to
curiosity and was holding the lid in one hand and the McDonald’s cup in the
other, watching the frog jump from out of the cup onto the back of the front seat. I reached out to attempt to catch it, but,
apparently, my reactions were much slower due to all the hormones my body
was producing. The frog jumps from the
seat right into the air condition vent into the dash. Ugh!
Is this kid her Daddy’s or what! LOL!!
Immediately, Jimmie turns off the air
condition and not so smoothly stops the vehicle. He and I both jump out of our Tahoe, while we
determine how the heck we are going to get the frog out of the dash without
causing it harm in addition to NOT tearing up our vehicle.
Short
interlude: Now you’ve
seen a picture of my husband from previous blogs. I am not sure if you can tell but he is Big
Foot’s brother. His hands are two feet
in length that is measuring from the tip of his middle finger to the end of his
palm. His feet are size sixteen (16) and
he is approximately six foot three or four inches, plus or minus, weighing 250±
pounds. Have you ever seen the show, Tommy Boy, and heard the phrase, “Big
guy in a little coat?” Yea, that is my
husband when it comes to working on vehicles.
For example, one day Jimmie decides he is going to change the oil in his
truck in addition to fixing some wiring that is causing some issues with the
stereo. What should take him just a few
hours ends up taking him eight plus hours because his hands are so big. It is like attempting to jam a circle block into
a square hole and you KNOW it HAS got to fit! After the scuffle, his hands are the only
part of his body that appears to have been in a cat fight and lost, horribly,
profusely bleeding! We attempt first aid
on him but he usually ends up looking as if his hands were horrifically burned with
all the gauze wrapped around them. Johnson & Johnson hasn’t figured out that
a “standard” Band-Aid DOES NOT
fit all!
We
are back: Somehow the
frog worked, jumped, and/or possibly slipped its way from the air condition
vent to somewhere in the dash. Many
hours later we finally figured out where he or she is located and also figure a
way to retrieve it from out of its location from within the Tahoe’s dash.
What an adventure we had before, during,
and after our frog hunting trip. We even
managed to catch a few frogs, and because of the few snags frog hunting has
become another Mlinar addiction.
Figure 1: Our
daughter’s first of many frog hunting trips to Crow Creek.
After moving to Cheyenne many years
later, we had another successful frog hunt.
This particular trip, I believe, Mommy had a weak moment, possibly from
too much sun, and allowed Jimmie and the girls to bring a few frogs home with
the assurance the frog tank would stay extremely clean & NO ODORS. Thus, our girls happily returned home with two
frogs and Jimmie and the girls entered us in the Cricket Club at one of the local
pet stores for food for the frogs.
One day, prior to me returning home
from work and before our weekend fishing trip in the mountains, Jimmie and the
girls purchased new bag of yellow scented rubber bass bait and some lures. I am not sure exactly who talked who into
fishing the frogs with the new bait but I can tell you that water, plus salt,
plus heat from lights that sit on top of a frog tank DOES NOT equal a happy ending! Please do not attempt this in your home on
your frogs.
Figure 2: Another frog hunting trips at Crow Creek.
It doesn’t end here…although we lost all
of our frogs that day and got kicked out of the local Cricket Club; my husband
is really a generous man, a wonderful husband, and a fabulous father. I couldn’t ever ask for a
better person to call my man! For
Mother’s Day, he bought me a beautiful custom made rod through one of his
buddy’s he made while part-taking in some stock trading (I am going to have
difficult time talking garbage about stock trading, now, if there are benefits
for me-geesh!). He also bought me a very
expensive lure to go with it for our upcoming fishing trip.
Figure 3: Fishing
Rod
Unfortunately, this past winter has been very VERY
VERY L O N G for the Mlinar
Clan. After preparing all of our rods
for the upcoming fishing trip, I am sad to announce that the lure did not take
long to become décor in da hood!
Figure 4: No tied tennis-shoes hanging on power lines for
our neighborhood; we advertise way better, more expensive, and excessively
usable bling!
