Once a year my hubby goes away for a week to find us food.
Aka: He shoots Bambi’s mom…or dad, whoever comes out first to say hello.
Yes, we weekly eat venison, and I actually really like it. The many unknowing guests who’ve come to our home for dinner and had it served to them and raved about how good the meal was liked it, too. They didn’t know that they weren’t wolfing down Chick-fil-A’s nemesis or having a side of Wilbur until after-the-fact. Once they knew, 99% of them still said they enjoyed their meal. That 1% just seemed to have some mental block toward dining with Bambi. Oh, well.
To keep our company guessing on what’s for dinner at the Payne’s, my husband is out on the hunt once again.
Many are surprised to hear my very put-together, attorney-by-trade, khaki and button-down wearing husband is a hunter. They just don’t know the man I know, the one who secretly loves his flannel and has always loved nature. Hunting is in his blood, a sport passed down for many generations. It’s so important to him I even made sure in my wedding vows I included a line about respecting the time he spends away to go hunting with his dad every year. If that isn’t proof enough, he loves hunting so much we’ve thought about someday naming our son Hunter. No joke.
Even though I may miss my hubby, and when he’s away feel like in order to stay warm I need a Snuggie or Forever Lazy (this one’s totally hotter), I do respect the time he spends each year with his dad catching up. Don’t get me wrong, though, I will welcome him back with open arms when he returns! 🙂