Scout and Jett go on vacay

If there's a word I hate, it's vacay. (Or if you don't like phonics "vaca".) But when referring to a dog's vacation, it's probably okay.

That's the only way I could think to title this post. They look forward to each and every hunting outing with Scott. He takes them as much as he possibly can; sometimes 2-3 days in a row on the weekends. But then, every year in September, they head out to the plains for several days to hunt. 

A few weeks ago, I was talking with a counselor (Insurance pays for it so I go once in awhile because I have nothing else to do) and she was wondering why I brought the baby with me if my husband was off work that day. I said Oh, he's hunting. She asked if I was okay with that. 

LOL. 

I, looking back, had no idea how much Scott wanted to hunt/fish in all of his spare time until after we got married. But the long and short of it is: he works 14 hour days, he rarely gets a day off, sometimes even works weekends, and we have two hunting dogs. So yes, I'm okay with it.

The counselor was just like "hmm most wives wouldn't be okay with him not taking the baby on a day off".  I believe her, based on her military clientele, but that still blows my mind. 

But really, the reason why I don't care how much he hunts is because of Jett and Scout. As long as they get to go, it's fine by me. 

They are dogs with a purpose. They look forward to this trip every year. They start running around the house from window to window when they see the camper getting packed. Scout saw Scott load up the guns one night and he did. not. sleep. for fear of missing his wake-up call. 

Opening weekend every September always happens to fall on our wedding anniversary, which Scott absolutely insists is not his fault and "take it up with the migration patterns". 

I didn't tell the counselor about that funny coincidence. 

(These are doves. I could show you the pictures of all the dead ducks too, but you're probably not here for that kind of content.)

A quick recap

I hear it snowed on the east coast. Not here. ^Dogs with their kill. 

We got back to Colorado at 11:30pm on Wednesday night. This was because we left Pennsylvania on Tuesday morning, drove only to Richmond, Indiana because Scott was coming down with something (The flu? A chest cold? We still don't know.), and spent the night. The next morning, we left there at 7:30am and it was a pleasant 6 degrees out. I told him I was going to drive us home that day because I refused (refused) to unpack the dogs at a hotel for another night. He was skeptical, but he had to let me drive because he couldn't. He slept almost all day while I drove 14 hours straight. I listened to every downloaded episode of The Popcast that I had. We stopped for coffee, for gas, for lunch, for gas, for coffee, for gas...and then he drove the last two hours home. It was a good 16 hour day. I will say that the stretch between Colorado Springs and Topeka, Kansas is hellish. It's boring and it lasts forever and if you live there, I apologize for saying that. The only thing worse than western Kansas is probably eastern Colorado (they are exactly the same thing). And we actually gained time, driving west, so technically it was an 18 hour day.

I think I went to bed at 2am because I was unpacking and then couldn't sleep.

Thursday and Friday blended together, but I went through the car wash twice to get all of the east-coast salt and grime off of it (they don't use salt to combat snow/ice in this part of the country). Also, I cleaned out the inside and then went to the grocery store. Scott spent Thursday on the couch but, on Friday, he decided that he was going to use the weekend to replace the flooring in the guest room. I wasn't holding up my hands in protest as I'd been asking him to do this for almost 4 years but I thought it was an odd choice of timing, what with the fever and congestion.

But he ripped out the carpet and the padding and threw it in the landfill pile where it belongs. He bought this laminate, which is actually made of vinyl and finished most of the floor this weekend. We also plan to put it in the bathrooms. Hopefully I can post a finished picture soon. I think Scott was legitimately just looking for anything else, aside from carpet, to put on that floor. He really doesn't like installing carpet. That's 4 years of avoidance.

I took down Christmas decorations and did a dozen loads of laundry.

We watched a few episodes of Black Mirror and some of them are fascinating.

Sunday was hunting day for the dogs and I went to Target, got a haircut, and then made a quick run to the grocery store to prep for the week (sigh).

If anyone else feels like this ^ about Monday, it's okay. Jett does too. He refused to retrieve and hold the bird that he flushed out so Scott helped him get the feel for it. He was not happy. But I think that's the perfect Monday face.

Linking up with Biana!

Annual Hunting Trip

I use "annual", "hunting", and "trip" loosely. 

I rarely go hunting with Scott. He hunts at least once a week. The stars have to align in order for me to go along. I can't feel stressed out, or too busy, or even slightly unwell. I have to not be hungry and I have to be hydrated (but not too hydrated). This happens about 2-3 times a year, but since 2016 was a deployment year, I only went once. 

We went hunting for quail, which means I just walked along. 

The dogs have to wear rubber booties to protect their feet from the cactuses (cacti?). 

Scout is too fast for me to get a picture. 

^Hunting down a bird after it's been shot.. 

Mondaying.

I'll be honest: I got really upset when I realized it was only a two-day weekend.

The dogs went hunting:

Because of the cactus...

the dogs have to wear rubber booties.

And I went shopping.

I got these slippers for less than $10 at Costco. They are amazing. I should've bought two pairs.

And then I came across a link that led me to Ulta's website and saw that the Smoky Naked Palette was 50% off yesterday. I was intrigued. I always said I would never pay $54 for one of these, but 50% off seemed like a bargain. Since Ulta is near Costco, I just stopped on my way. I asked the salesperson if the palettes were 50% off and she said she didn't know anything about that. Then I looked 3 feet away and saw a giant sign that said "SMOKY NAKED PALETTE 50% OFF". 

I almost told her she was an idiot and I *almost* complained about her at the register. But I didn't. I just bought my $27 worth of fancy eyeshadow and told Scott he could wrap it up for Christmas. 

We watched Penn State win the Big Ten.

We watched the Steelers win too. Victories all around.

I also made these cookies for the FRG. I made them last year and they were amazing...will be a yearly Christmas cookie from here on out.

I also made this Chicken Lo Mein and it was good too. 

And here's motivation for Monday:

I've been reading Daring Greatly and Rising Strong and what I'm getting is that up there ^. Brown says it and when I see "hustle", I think "facade". Perfectionism is a busy way of putting up a facade. 

So here's to cutting back on the hustle on this Monday. 

Confesiones

+Scott told me he wanted to buy a new Keurig so he could take the old one into his new office. I initially refused because the old Keurig had been with us for 4 years, through 3 states, 3 houses, and 3 deployments. It's like my friend.

+If America's Next Top Model was on Netflix, I would be in major trouble.  I've seen seasons 1-10 more than once.

+I just bought another planner. I love NEW planners more than I love planners themselves.  So I keep it well under $20 when I buy a new one (so many lovely options out there that aren't EC, PP, or EL and thereby don't cost $50), and that way I can get a new one in July and a new one in January.  Which I realize defeats the purpose of a planner. But maybe I'll like this one enough to keep on with it.

+Sometimes I feel awful for Jett.  Scott won't take him snowgoose hunting because he realized that Jett looks like a fox from the air and the snowgeese won't land. Scout has a little goose-colored disguise that he wears, but Scott said all the disguises in the world won't hide a red fox from a flock of snowgeese. So Scott won't take him and then I told Scott he was just being racist toward our ginger dog and poor little Jett can't help it.

If you are offended by pictures of dead birds, don't ever come to my house. They hang from the porch to "cure" all week after a hunt. I feel bad for the UPS guy. 

+Sometimes I think that we, as bloggers, should disclose when we *don't* use affiliate links. Like, put "No affiliate links" at the top of a post, so I don't have to hesitate before I click.  I often hover before I click. Isn't that awful? Especially with all those holiday gift guides.

+In the last two weeks I've watched more than I can count of those Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel.  They are so bad. But so addictive.

Any confessions to share?

Maybe this will be our Christmas card picture

                 Scott made me hold one of these dead snow geese "still" while he measured it. 

I made him take a picture.

I sent out regular Christmas cards this year.
Maybe because I've wasted entire hours of my life trying to get things looking the way I've wanted on sites like Shutterfly or Minted in Christmases past.  Maybe because Wal-Mart's website NEVER works when I try to make Christmas cards on it. Neither does Target's.

A big part of it is that I usually put together our Christmas cards over Thanksgiving break.  Scott wasn't actually scheduled to return from the training he was at until the first week of December. It was great to have him home a week and a half early but, in my mind, I'd already written off Christmas cards because I assumed he wouldn't be here for a picture.

I thought about doing New Year's cards.  I like the idea of sending something out in January, avoiding the mad rush of Christmas cards. And then I thought of the cards I had bought years ago, at Target, in the after-Christmas sale. They were so pretty and I never sent them because I was all, "Must make personalized Christmas card" for the last few years.

So this year, I sent them. Just like in the olden days.

I mean, I could've put me and the dead snow geese on some cardstock.
I thought it'd be a better use of time to just post it here.

While I do love Christmas, gift-giving, cookie-baking, decorating, reflecting on past Christmases, etc...I have trouble with the keeping up with the Jones aspect of the holiday. I mentioned that last year.

A comparison to Michael Scott

Scott compared me to Michael Scott the other day and this was really weird because Scott doesn't like The Office.  He likes Steve Carrell, hates The Office. Never watched it with me. Didn't glean absolute enjoyment from it the way I did, etc.

Scott went duck hunting last week and, per usual, it was in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to go to Bent's Old Fort and it was near his hunting spot, so I drove down there on Sunday morning with Jett (he had Scout) to meet him.

The night before, Scott had programmed the directions into my Google Maps.  He hadn't just programmed them; he had looked them over and said, "Okay, this is the way you go".

When I set off the next morning, I followed the directions.

I drove for over two hours and finally started getting close.  I turned off where it told me to turn off  (onto Country Road 26) and drove about 500 feet down a dirt road.  All of a sudden I hit field. Field covered in 2 feet of water. If you look at the map, it shows that I'm still on a road and the reservoir Scott was at was right in front of me, on the other side of this water-logged field.  I attempted to turn around but I was clearly stuck.

I called Scott.  He was not happy.  I waited about 10 minutes in the car and left it running because I had a fear that if I turned it off, it wouldn't start again.  I opened the door: water up to the middle of the tires and I have an SUV, so you can imagine how deep the water was. Jett was getting antsy.

It didn't help that I couldn't tell Scott exactly where I was.  I made it VERY clear that I had followed the directions and turned off on County Road 26 like he told me to. But I didn't know the cross street ("street" is a generous term here).  It was a quarter mile back to the road.  Scott told me to stay in the car but I, obviously, don't take direction well.  He had to go get gas before he came out looking for me or we'd both be stranded.  I took my chances.  I put Jett's leash on him and got out of the car.  I sunk down to almost my knees, but I trudged the 20 feet to dry land.  I'm glad I had sneakers and socks on (and coindentially, even gladder that I had an extra pair of socks and sneakers in the car).

I walked to the intersection and texted my friend while I waited.

This was my location and I was sure to text her my coordinates.  Just in case. 

Scott showed up.

He managed to hook up the back of my car to his truck with chains (bought when he got stuck two weeks ago) and told me to get in the car, put it in neutral, and "KEEP YOUR FOOT OFF THE BRAKE".  I did as I was told.  He started pulling and then all of a sudden he's screaming, "PUT YOUR FOOT ON THE BRAKE" and I was very confused because I was just following directions and it turns out if you don't brake, you crash into the car that is towing you out.  I didn't know this.  I did put my foot on the brake just in time but, again, I was just following directions.  I've never been towed out of something before because the last thing I generally do is put myself into these situations.

(You're probably wondering why there's no picture of just how stuck I was. There will never be such photographic evidence posted on the internet.  Scott was too mad to take a picture, I was thinking clearly enough to rationalize not documenting it, and Jett and Scout didn't have a camera (as far as I know)).

Scott's concern was, "What would you have done without me here?"  Well, I really doubt I would be in a situation like this without him (because my weekends aren't usually spent duck hunting in the middle of nowhere), so it's kind of a non-issue.

If I wasn't already thinking "Oh my God, I am Michael Scott", Scott was sure to bring it up. Which, again, was really weird because I don't remember him ever even watching that episode.

Hunting Dogs

Scott regularly gets up at 2:30 in the morning to go sit in this thing (a hunting blind) in a corn field and wait for the geese to land.  He took the dogs with him this past weekend.

This is particularly funny because they are not duck/geese dogs. Brittanys are bird-dogs; pheasant, quail, etc (and there is the extent of my knowledge on the subject.)

So they don't actually do anything.  They just sit in the field and chew on things and sleep in the blind and whatnot.  But here they are, posing with their "kill".

Anyway, we have some relatives in town, so it'll be a sparse week of blogging.  Yesterday we went to the Denver Botanical Gardens and Beau Jo's Colorado Pizza (at the recommendation of Esther).  It was definitely tasty pizza, but the service was so-so.  I'm glad we tried it, as we are almost never in Denver.  

Then my alarm didn't go off this morning.  What a great way to start the week. 

Neatness is a virtue

I want things neat.  Messiness doesn't bother Scott in the same way it bothers me.  He likes to know where things are and gets a kick out of organizing all his stuff, but it doesn't scrape at his soul when there's a mess lying about.  I don't deal well with messes.

However, one day a few weeks ago, Scott went pheasant hunting with some coworkers.  He took them out and they came back here to clean the pheasants.  I should tell you that we have a rule:  no dead animals in the kitchen.  You see, there was an incident once in which 15 snowshoe hare were skinned and gutted in the kitchen sink and I ended up finding clumps of gray fur on the floor and in the dishwasher.  I completely lost it. It was one of those moments that would go down in the history of our marriage.  Like, it would get a special subheading in a book:  Snowshoe Hare Incident. Scott's friend's house served as the gutting/skinning/shelling/cleaning/plucking station from that day forward.  It was sort of a legendary moment that set forth a proclamation of "Let's go to Taylor's house. We know we can't do that stuff here anymore". That was in March of 2011.  Scott knows that the fish and birds and carcasses must be dealt with outside.  Of course, on this day a few weeks back, it was only 10 degrees out and they had a lot of birds to ...clean.  So I granted access to the kitchen.  But first, I suggested the sink in the basement.  Weren't we thrilled to have that thing down there for this very purpose?  Why yes.  Would Scott escort his buddies through the basement and into the laundry room before the plucking and de-feathering could begin?  No.  He could not.  Because "it's kinda messy in the basement".  At least he had the good sense to look sheepish when he said it.  You see!  He does care.  While it doesn't shake him to the very fiber of his being like it does for me, messes DO bother him.  This felt like a small victory.

Birds were cleaned in my copper sink.

He also had the good sense to clean and sanitize the space.  And then I went over it again with more Lysol because that's just what I do.  It's a trust thing.

Anyway.

Last week, I continued my mission of get-rid-of-all-the-cardboard-boxes.  We still have a lot of things packed up in boxes that came from Alaska and we've spent hundreds on Rubbermaid tubs in the last few months but organization isn't cheap.

Basement before picture:

After:

Those are boxes full of my teaching stuff and all of our books that cannot go on the living room bookshelves (because I'm picky about that too).

Duck Hunting

I could call this "Duck Hunting Part XXII" or something because Scott goes duck hunting a lot.  This is the first time I went though.  It's not that I don't want to spend this time with him and the dogs.  I just usually have several things to accomplish on the weekends.  It's hard to justify sitting in the woods all day, when it'll end up stressing me out in the long run.  The best part about being outdoors, I maintain, is going back indoors. Thankfully, he doesn't usually go hunting all day.  Ducks only "fly" at sunrise and sunset.  So he'll either get up at 3am and be home by lunch or leave in the afternoon and be back late.  On this day, Scott had just come back from 30 days away, so I figured it'd be in my best interest to participate in the outing.  Plus, an ice cream stop was promised for the way home.

On the way to the Arkansas River, I introduced Scott to Serial.  

If you are not listening to this, I'm not sure what you're actually doing with your life.  We have so many theories about what is going on here.  I'm trying to get a new hashtag going:  #SketchyJay

Anyway, 2 hours later…

See, I was there. 

Chewing on sticks…

…and digging holes.

I have no pictures of the dogs from the front because they would not stop moving.  Also, 30 minutes into it, I was bored and almost fell asleep on my little stool.

The end.