Put a Deer on Your Head and Call Me in the Morning

It is a good thing that there are no hidden video monitors in our house, because if anyone ever saw what goes on here, we’d be on the psych ward.

Bruce and I were puttering around today. I was cleaning upstairs. He decided to clean out our neglected freezer in the basement. He brought up two frozen items that he could not identify, one in a casserole dish and another in plastic. The one in plastic was a large five or six pound lump that I eventually realized was venison from a friend who hunts.

I took it because Mills offered it to me and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I guess it is hypocritical of me, because I do eat meat, but it bothered me. I never cooked it because it makes me sad.

Bruce was sitting on the cedar chest storage built-in unit (kind of like a window seat with no window) in the hallway chatting with me, surrounded by UFO's (unidentified frozen objects).

I went into the adjoining bathroom to wash my face. My old-fashioned medicine cabinet door was slightly open. When I lifted my head to look in the mirror, I smacked my head very hard. One of those sickening thuds that you know will really hurt in about 3.2 seconds. “Ouch, oh my God,” I hollered.

Bruce ran in and put the frozen venison on my head.

It is a good thing we don’t have children. They’d be warped for life just being around us.

Thanks to Bruce for that great picture of the deer he took over Thanksgiving. It was taken at a nature preserve in Panama City, Florida