A Trip To The Candy Store

Most women love to shop!  We particularly LOVE to shop when an item is on SALE!  All husbands give their wives grief about their shopping too.  Wives, please, take a moment to remind your husband that they, too, LOVE to shop especially during sales.  It is just a different kind of shopping.  The difference between a man and a woman’s shopping episode is that a man's shopping episode doesn’t involve buying 20 towels for the family bathroom or an extra pair of sheets for the guest bedroom to help keep the laundry at a minimum.  Men will shop sales for items they are passionate about such as hunting clothing, hunting gear, and/or hunting toys & gadgets. 

Recently, we were up and out of the house by 6:00 A.M….good grief, Santa hadn’t even come the night before!  Okay, so this doesn’t sound too early.  For those who also have two girls, one teenager and one pre-teenager, living with them, leaving at 6 A.M. really means that we were up at 4:00 o’my gosh this is too friggin’ early for a measly 100 mile trip to attend the glorious door-buster event sale at...aww-AWWW-AWWWWW….C A B E L A' S!!

As I sat in our car in the Cabela’s parking lot waiting for the doors to open, I couldn’t help but think that I should start an intervention/counseling session for Hunters Shoppers Anonymous (HSA).  I saw no difference between the day after Thanksgiving sales and the Cabela’s, Saturday, door-buster sale.  Here’s the visual:  Lines begin to form as the clock ticks closer to the 9:00 A.M., Cabela’s, Saturday, door-buster sale (After this Blog, I am pretty sure Cabela’s owes The Hunter’s Wife some advertising monies-J)!  Men are elbowing each other and cutting line just to be the first to get to the “rare” items that does very little to completely stock the shelves.  While my husband sits in our vehicle, he is fidgeting with excitement as if it were the day after Thanksgiving and he is about to ask Santa for the new Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock and “this thing which tells time” (a sundial) he has always wanted.  All we are missing in this picture is Jean Sheperd narrating; the infamous leg lamp covered with sexy hosiery that came in the fragile box; and the teacher dressed as a witch & the mom dressed as a jester both pointing and saying in a harmonious tune, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”

^(1),(2)

       

Five minutes to opening, we decide to join the others at the front door in the 120 mph winds that are blowing so my husband can load up on ammo and other thrilling door buster sales.  Possessing a welcoming smile, a sales woman comes out to greet the shoppers.  One guy with anticipation in his voice asks the sales woman, “Are the doors about to open?”  After asking his question, I swear, I observed this gentleman get down in the runner’s starting position for “the race.”  Hearing this question, all I can do to hold in my laughter from the fictional scene created in my mind is to suggest to my husband that the girls and I are dead weight and he should proceed to where he MUST go by himself.  We would meet up somewhere around the Bargain Cave because that is where I like to shop. 

Finally, The CHUTES open!  All the men scatter like little kids in their favorite candy shop searching for their golden tickets!  Wives-the next time your husband gives you grief about sale shopping, please, remind him that the Hunters Shoppers Anonymous (aka HSA) will be meeting every Thursday night from 7-9 at the local community center; first names ONLY.

(1):  courtesy of http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Story-Full-Size-Lamp/dp/B003TMAR9K/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1331742650&sr=8-3

(2): courtesy of http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085334/

Mount & Balance

            My husband and I both grew-up on the Western side of Wyoming.  It was later in our lives that we migrated to the Eastern side.  One wouldn’t think that a State with so little population and large mass would make such a difference with which section of the state a person decides to be a residence of.  However, if you are a hunter there is a HUGE difference between Western and Eastern Wyoming. 

For one the Eastern side is completely privatized, which means a person cannot go out to the prairie and shoot gophers for target practice.  There is no place to go without spotting signs that call out in bold letters, “PRIVATE PROPERTY! NO TRESPASSING!”  In order to shoot your gun or bow, one must join a club.  For a few of the clubs, it takes up to a three years just to get your name to the top of the wait-list.  However, once a member, a person still cannot shoot the gophers around the gun or archery clubs those sorts of actions are not allowed.  There are rules that each member must follow in order to continue to be members.  As a result and probably comes as no surprise, my husband is a member of both the local archery club and the local gun club.  Our membership allows us as a family to practice shooting in one form or another to prepare for our hunting season. 

Living in the city limits, we are fortunate to have a decent size yard.  The best part is that we have amazing neighbors especially the elderly couple adjacent to us.  Thank God; they raised three (3) boys!!  I am positive that the elderly couple gets a kick out of my husband and his antics.  For example, prior to becoming members of the local archery club, my husband began familiarizing with the sport in our backyard by shooting at short distances and gradually building to “longer” distances.  The distance increase would consist of standing in one corner of the yard while shooting to the diagonal corner.  Then he would measure his distances that he successfully shot with his field range.  I’d like to say he added the full effect by dressing up in his camo attire and camo make-up but people might say I am embellishing after reading this blog.

This particular Sunday, ironically, began with no wind, which is highly unusual for this Eastern city of Wyoming.  Because there was little wind, my husband decides that he is going to go practice archery in the back yard.  He lets our dogs in the house so they don’t get in the way while he practices.  It doesn’t take long for him to come back into the house to tell me that he has lost his arrow.  Panic?  Have you read my other blogs! 

The entire family piles into the truck.  We all roll down our windows so we can evaluate the area.  We don’t want to arouse any of the neighbors suspicion, so we perform a drive-by, “gangster style,” (also known as the slow creep in a vehicle, shades over our eyes, minus blaring music) to see if we can spot the arrow.  We drive down two blocks on one side of the road and then repeat the same actions on the other side.  For such a short couple of blocks, we looked for that arrow for many hours into the afternoon.  Though, not all of our searching was performed in the vehicle.  We even managed to incognito our efforts by taking the dogs for a “stroll.”

          Finally, after hours of searching, Jim spots the arrow in our neighbors'…well, have you ever had to knock on your neighbors’ door to tell them you took care of their ferocious, man-eating…16.5” CAMPER TIRE?  I can only imagine our elderly neighbors’ face as Jim explains to them what had happened: 

“Hi, Barb and Steve!”  Jim says as they  open their door, “So, um, I was practicing shooting my bow…you know, like you have observed me do in previous days,” Jim explains as he shuffles from one foot to the other and pointing to the side of their house, “…I sort of killed your tire on your camper and I need to replace it.  I’d ask you not to tell my wife, but she is outside waiting for me in the truck.” 

The fun doesn’t stop there either.  The following day the implausible story is told to co-workers.  One, who points out, most people get their first bow kill mounted; Jim got his mounted AND balanced! 

Though, the thought of a 16.5” tire hanging over the fireplace and the infamous arrow above the beautiful petroleum kill in addition to a picture to capture the event had crossed my mind.  The thought of it being balanced did not.  It would have hung so entirely true!  LOL Logically thinking about this kill, $263.00 plus a few bucks for diesel to and from the tire station is the CHEAPEST successful hunt the Mlinar Clan has EVER had. 

What To Do After Getting Your Permission Slip From the Almighty G&F

There is no better time of year for a hunter than the time when the clouds from above part slightly, a chorus of “Awww” fills the air, and a ray of sunshine beams down upon the almighty Game and Fish Department the day that licenses are to be drawn and posted at approximately 9:00± A.M. for all to see.  Any person around a hunter at the time of notification will experience the most unusual sighting for the day.  The unusual sighting, mainly men, begins by the hunter pounding his chest in complete ecstasy, ONLY if he gets what he had previously requested from the Hunting Gods.  Otherwise, all enjoyment turns to turmoil as clenched hands go into pockets, kicking dirt, and a little cussing because NOW, you gotta hunt general tags!  None-the-less, all hunting leads to the making of the first version of the sacred HUNTING CHECKLIST.

There are many steps taken to creating the well-calculated hunting checklist.  Usually, the hunting checklists will under-go many many many revisions.  Sometimes, the creation has comments like “see next page” or “page 2 of 7, plus back of pages”.  These steps all begin your insightful reading into a Judy Blume’s novel.  Only, this is a short-story version by The Hunter’s Wife about a teenage boy about to go on his first hunt.  Oh wait a minute, hee he hee, this story involves MY husband, who is thirty something, but regresses into his teenage years as if going on his first hunt, again, even though he has been hunting for 365 days that year, 7 days a week, 24 hours a day…hence, the term horn-porn! 

Here we go…as a young man sits in front of the T.V. watching his favorite horn-porn, large red Disney’s Cars pen in hand, b-b-q stains on his face because it is now after dinner, his tongue sticking out in the right corner of his mouth, as he concentrates while jotting down on a piece of crumbled paper that he found on the floor by his side of the bed making his “Christmas” Wish List, I mean, version one of the blessed HUNTING LIST.  Here are the results:

Please Note Reader:  This checklist may or may not have been tampered with!

Compare version one of the holy HUNTING LIST to an example of any age female Dear Dear Diary entry.  Even the sacred HUNTING LIST endures drama.  For instance, you are going hunting, why do you have to write down an item to bring such as your RIFLE & BULLETS?  Remember-you are going HUNTING!  Wouldn’t that be a gimme!  Maybe a reminder of a knife perhaps for that time during the big hunting day when you are indisposed and you forgot to grab some toilet paper at four in the morning while getting ready.  At least the knife would allow you to effectively supply yourself with a much needed necessity. 

No clue to the list making ways.  But because I am a good wife, here is how I do MY part to help my husband ensure that he has everything he needs for his many weeks while off hunting.  After he is finished writing out the majority of his list; he usually decides to leave it for many months prior to the big hunting trip on the counter by the kitchen sink near the Epicenter of Stupidity, consciously annoying me.  (Note:  there will be another 3-5 revisions before the final product and most hunting tags are given during the month of MAY.  Depending on the area, elk, and deer hunting permits usually begin the month of AUGUST, which is THREE months AFTER MAY!)  I write consciously because I politely ask him every year he needs to find a home for his sanctified list.  I can usually last about a week and even that is pushing it.  Yet, it continues to sit there for days, taunting me. 

As a result of the taunting list, I begin to ADD necessary items to the list to include make-up, Faith Hill Perfume, diapers, pacifier, stuffed animal, woobi/binny (also known as a child’s favorite blanket), and the most important-tampons!  It is always best to be prepared.  J  I am positive that he leaves it by the Epicenter of Stupidity on purpose just to see how creative I can be with what items make it onto the divine HUNTING LIST.  Currently, I am contemplating scratching out HUNTING LIST and replacing it with HONEY-DO-LIST! 

30 DAYS OF THANKFULNESS

30.     BIG THANK YOU to the many followers of “A Hunter’s Wife’s Blog.”  I am glad that you all join me in laughing WITH my husband, who so graciously provides me with awesome material.

29.     A successful year of hunting.

28.     Barney rejoins the Mlinar Clan at the house for playtime to include horn-porn/stock-trading/hunting forum.

27.     All phone calls with Papa Mlinar will involve hunting, hunting, oh, and more hunting! 

26.     During the holidays, a new UPS/FEDEX delivery guy to begin affair with.

25.     New hunting gear and gadgets to research and compare; then test by the Epicenter of Stupidity = new material for blog!

24.     Hunting fund build-up

23.     Met a NEW SANTA goes by the name of taxidermist owner of Western Wildlife Creations, David Hrabvosky (please, send all fan mail to:   5960 Klipstein Road, Cheyenne, WY 82009, or view his art at westernwildlife@millect.com, or phone at 1-888-778-2051) and patiently waiting for him to call.

22.     Cyber Monday SALES at CABELA’s, SIERRA TRADING POST, BASS PRO, GANDER MOUNTAIN, JAX, SPORTSMANS WAREHOUSE, and so many more goodie stores

21.     Thanksgiving sales at CABELA’s, SIERRA TRADING POST, BASS PRO, GANDER MOUNTAIN, JAX, SPORTSMANS WAREHOUSE, and so many more goodie stores…how can we hit them all!?

20.     EXERCISE routine begins and will include the following: 

1)      begin making hunting list

2)      checking the list twice

3)      put the packs away

4)      then pull them out

5)      check goodies in the pack just in case something fell out

6)      then repeat steps 1-5 once a week for the next months leading up to the official hunting trip

19.      EEEEEEK - NEW ELK CALLS

18.     Practicing with the new elk calls…have one daughter upstairs and one down while you sit in the living-room making your call too….house will sound like one big elk fest!

17.     Words from little protégé, “Daddy gets to take us rabbit hunting!”   Words from dog, Soda, “I like rabbit hunting, please, can I go too?”

16.     Honey-do list can once again be worked on…motivation-threaten to shut-off cable & internet!  Then hide all the horn-porn…mwaaaah

15.     Road trips will be planned around potential hunting areas for scouting purposes.

14.     Hunting camp results in new recipes that MUST be replicated at the house.

13.     Many new friends met while part-taking in forums.

12.     New friends met at hunting camp.

11.     New friend from Colorado, who was met while working, resulting in a NEW hunting opportunity-BONUS!!

10.     Bill sent to new friend for adding more hunting to my husband’s life!  (I did not think it possible-thank you friend from Colorado!  Please, make check payable to The Hunter’s Wife)

9.       CAMO SALES!!! CAMO SALES!!! CAMO SALES!!!  Shrills of happiness

8.       FONDLING Guns at any store possible!!

7.       Horn-Porn goes from 1 hour to 10 hours plus, 7 days a week!

6.       THANK GOODNESS for super-smart space phones so all forum/chats/stock-trading can take place on it.  Sure cuts into my scrabble time when I want to play on his phone! J

5.       Forum chats and stock-trading in full season.

4.       Rifle and Archery target practice results in house full of Hoppe’s gun solvent aroma, sounds of bullet making, and ordering more arrows

3.       Mother Nature was hard on the truck this year so new tires are in the works.

2.       An awesome husband & great kids:  all who provide me endless material, lots of love, and infinite amounts of laughter!

1.       Just when one thinks hunting season is over, another 365 days begins!  Hope there is enough time for preparing.

What Happens At Hunting Camp STAYS At Hunting Camp

         All women possess a little E.S.P. (Extra Sensory Perception) especially when their husbands are like MINE and I know him, oh so well. Then you add into the mix his little protégé aka our youngest daughter-Lord have mercy!  Let me elaborate by telling you how ONE evening of stalking turned out.  Awww, Daddy and daughter bonding time is so special.  However, when these two spend time together, all I can emphasize is that I MUST purchase extra insurance…heehehee. 
        Upon arrival to the house from the evening’s stalk, our little girl opens the passenger truck door with tears in her eyes benevolently promising me that her Daddy’s actions were truly an accident by rectifying, “Don’t be mad Mommy.  Daddy didn’t mean to break the back window of the truck with his 4-wheeler.  He will get it fixed.  He promises!”  Poor kid! 
         Apparently, I am WAY more powerful than I know because I heard she was more concerned for her Daddy’s safety than the broken window which had allowed cold air to freely flow into the cab during the ride home.  I was told her reaction to the window getting broken, which happened while loading the 4-wheeler into the back of the truck, instantly caused her to scream with anguish, “OOOOOOOOHHHH, Daddy, Mommy is gonna kill you!”  I will admit I was a little upset.  Though, after taking a few minutes to calm down in addition to the reassurance our youngest gave for keeping her Daddy safe, I began to see a positive side of the situation:  I wouldn’t be the one freezing while driving to work the next morning!  
         I am betting that if his company during that inevitable stalking trip were different, say his company was another hunting buddy named Barney, who is allowed to stay out much later than our girls during school weeknights.  The broken window story would have more elaborated events then leading up to the climax of the story with hopes of attempting to distract me: 

                     “Barney spotted a pile of elk turds so he sniffed them to determine how
                     fresh the pile was; Jimmie noticed a large herd of elk while peering
                     through his scope.  Because Jimmie was concentrating so hard at the herd,
                     Barney decided to skid a stick across the rocks towards Jimmie to break
                     his focus.  The sound of the stick skidding across the rocks replicated that
                     of a rattle snake about to strike.  Jimmie’s priceless reactions made
                    Barney, laugh hysterically, quietly of course.”

Now, because I have a twisted sense-of-humor, a visual begins to develop in my head of two grown men…dressed in camo attire….in the woods…playing jokes on each other while maintaining quietness, causing them to…breath heavily from holding back any sounds of laughter so they can successfully stalk their prey-is this a horn porn scenario or what!
         I also picture their conversation prior to returning to the house after the truck window breaking to follow a similar version of:

*Photo courtesy of:  htt://bedrock.deadsquid.com/gallery/cars.php

                                             Barney:  You're afraid to tell her what happened, aren't you?

                                             Jimmie:  [skids the car to an abrupt halt] Afraid?  Now let's get this

                                             straight, Rubble, I don't need permission from my wife to make a

                                             decision.  In my cave, I reign supreme, *supreme*.

                                             Barney:  I won't tell her, Jim.

                                             Jimmie: [relieved] Thanks, Pal.

Oh, yes, in my head, I can develop one-hell of a funny illustration of events that took place!  Plus, I find it difficult to fret over something as benign as our truck possessing a broken window when Jimmie and Barney return home with a successful hunt.   

Jimmie's catch:  SAWEET! 

Besides, knowing my husband like I do, it is better to have what happens at Hunting Camp STAY at Hunting Camp whether it is one day or many weeks spent with our girls and/or Barney, and leave my twisted humor to develop its own conclusions of the events that occurred.  Thank God for blogging!

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.