A-Lure

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!