I walked to the boulder with the dogs and set Betsy and Chihuahuas loose.
The took off like idiots chasing unknown aromas.
I put Yorkie Grace down and searched around for signs of any animal bedding down place.
No luck. I’m thinking I’m gonna kick Son-of-a-wrek for giving me false info.
Uh-Oh, Grace is disappeared. I whistle and call her name. She yips. She’s in the underbrush. I’m on my knees looking under and oh, I see it.
Me oh, my. Your bedroom is ‘just right’, Mr. Foot. It’s just the right size for a large human. Or a small bear. A big hog. Might be a bit tight for a Bigfoot unless it’s a young-un. Grace was miniaturized by it.
It smelled really bad. I’m thinking of hogs with skin diseases. Yuck. Grace got rinsed off with my bottle of water. I have a bandana and wrap her in it and put her in my pocket.
I look again at the trees. They are for real touching at the top. Not sure what this means. I know it’s eerie to think of what could push a large tree enough to crack it 3 or 4 ft up its trunk.
I whistle up my hunting dogs and proceed to the drive way and back to the house.
Grace gets a proper wash and everyone else gets feet and bellys washed.
Mr.Wrekker is kicked back in his recliner (He’s hurt his back) I take him his Jack and ice and sit and tell him what I saw.
First off, I get the warning lecture about messin’ with Bigfoot (or, really any wildlife).
I’ve heard this lecture many times. I’m glazed over. He sez “Did you hear me, woman?”
I told him I was aware of the dangers in the woods. “No” he sez. “Go get me another drink.”
Oh. I see how this is gonna go.
I walked in the kitchen and Son-of-a-wrek is in there trying not to laugh at me. I punched his arm and took the Big Wrek his drink.
If that boy is messin’ with me he’s gonna wish he ran into Bigfoot instead.
lol he’s lucky your a good southern woman … if MR wrek said that to most of my female relatives he’d of gotten an old fashioned iron frying pan upside the head at the very least or something metallic with a sharp pointy end on it thrown at him which may or may not intentionally miss…
Oh, we’ve had our moments, folks.
I know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He was raised in a different time by older parents.
I coulda chunked a heavy object at his head, many times, but I liked him able to go to work. So’s I could hang out in woods looking for Bigfoot and other trivial pursuits.
But, god the man likes lecturing. He has a whole series. Me and the kids can quote them verbatim.
That would be a blast =) mrAru would be down with going hunting, I would be down with sitting on the porch avoiding the hunting til it is time to cook something =) I can bring shortbread …
Thank you for the consideration, Dork. Mr VOW can have waffles (no salt in batter, no-sodium baking powder), fried potatoes (again, no salt) and eggs (ditto). The Dietitian who was on his rehab team wanted him to consume 93 grams of protein a day, then she raised an eyebrow at his 2-egg breakfast.
I told her studies have shown that the cholesterol in eggs is metabolized differently. Animal fats are another story. She said, “Well, yes, this is true.”
Then I said when you talk about cholesterol in the body, even if you consume NO cholesterol in your diet, the body manufactures its own cholesterol. In fact, you need cholesterol to process Vitamin D. She said, “Well, yes…”
She started talking about other ways to get more protein, through protein shakes and protein bars.
Mr VOW won’t touch that stuff! He nearly threw up when she mentioned tofu.
Yup. Just bought a brand new metal rolling pin with the rings to make rolling a perfect thickness easier - and these spiffy Chinese mooncake cutters with pretty patterns that will make huge like 3 inch by 3 inch [if I am converting sizes right] cutters.
And I am a classicist - butter, sugar, flour, vanilla and depending I may or may not use egg yolk [usually only if I am making something that needs just whites] I have also been looking at a scooby snack cutter - supposed to be used for making doggie cookies, but I want human scooby snacks =)
Ever tried Kodiak cakes pancake mix? higher protein and all you add is water but if you also add an egg it turns into waffle batter =) No palm products [though I read every box of mix of anything each time I buy - they are sneaking palm shite into everything premade now a days] And they make a decent turkey lower fat kielbasa … I don’t worry, I am diabetic and my cholesterol levels don’t bounce when I tweak my diet [nor does my blood pressure respond to salt!]
mrAru wanted to know if the raging hogs are food safe with trichinosis precautions or of they are shoot and bury, and what kinds of hunting licenses are needed … and ditto fishing licenses. Though voluntolding him into cooking would have quite excellent results as well. He is quite a good cook within reason =)
I remember the Cardiac Rehab people trying to convince me that margarine was better for me than butter. It might be true, but IMHO, margarine is a lubricant and not food
No, Aru, the hogs are not edible. They have screw-worm and countless other diseases and parasites.
There’s no season. They are considered problem animals. Open season.
The game warden likes to know the count of dead for their own reasons.
You get here. No lisc. needed on my private property. Guns and ammo available here as well.
You can fish on my pond unlisc. I won’t tell.
For many many years, we used margarine. In the beginning, it was much cheaper than butter.
And I don’t care what the food scientists do to it, margarine does not taste like butter.
Several years ago, word finally got out that, son-of-a-gun, margarine simply is not a more healthy alternative to butter. In fact, all the chemical tinkering that is done to margarine to make it behave like butter yields a very unhealthy product.
I said “Piss on it. We can afford it. I’m buying butter!”
As my world turns, I decide to walk the doggies, this afternoon.
Loaded-up, packed-out, leashes on. Out we go.
We head to the game trail we’ve been exploring. Betsy wants her head before we get to the barn. I hold her off past the tractor shed and pig burial ground.
When I see the pond I let the dogs of war loose. In a cacophony of yip, yap and yodel they’re gone. My pocket Yorkie even poked her head out and yipped.
I push her back down and trek on. I get to the trail head and turn in. I whistle at intervals to keep an idea of where Betsy is.
I’m looking for footprints and any other sign. I see poo. Big poo. I think it’s hog poo. I’m happy Betsy passed it up and didn’t roll in it. I don’t see cloven hoof prints. Odd.
I stop to let Yorkie Grace down to potty. Listening for Betsy. She’s far to my right in a deep gully. She on a track. I can tell by her barks. The Chihuahuas are keeping up with her. I lean down to pick up Grace and see lots of pinecones that are smushed and broken. I’ve seen this before. On ATV trails.
No tire prints tho’.
I whistle at Betsy til I can tell she’s coming toward me. I move along past the boulder and the tree pyramid. It really is an eerie place. I’m not hanging around long.
I hear the brush breaking behind me. It’s my pack of hell hounds.
I leash up and we head to the driveway.
When I get in the house Mr.Wrekker asked me what was up on the trail.
I asked him what kind of animals frequented that track? He hems and haws, and finally says mostly likely a big ol 'buck deer. I told him I saw no cloven hoof prints.
He agreed that was unusual, on his way out the door. I looked out the door and watched him walk to the barn. He was shaking his head. I think I heard him laugh alittle.
Son-of-a-wrek asked me “You’re sure there weren’t any hoof prints?” He looks alittle nervous. I saw a slight twitch in his eyebrow.
He sez he’s gonna spend the night on my deck.
I’m not sure I like this.
No, I am a Dictatorial Communazi-Elitist-Waffle-Purist. Waffles cannot be made from a box mix. Any box mix that says waffle mix on it is merely mislabeled pancake mix and does not, will not and physically cannot taste like anything other than a waffle shaped pancake. God have mercy on those who put anything other than honest, real, grown in an actual tree maple syrup on a real waffle.
And butter, salted or unsalted, but there is a special place in hell for people putting margerine on a real waffle
