My boys went hunting last weekend and, because I wanted to aid in the successful stuffing of our freezer for the winter (without having to actually do anything), I decided to help them pack.
My job was food. As I wish to see them happy, I asked what they wanted.
“Shredded beef, roast beef, turkey, ham…”
“Hamburgers, hot dogs…”
“That’s it? You aren’t forgetting anything”
“Oh right. And cheese. Thanks Mom”
“What are you going to eat for breakfast?”
“Can we have Poptarts?”
I have not been so happy to not be on a camping trip in a while. Think about it. The lot of them in an 11 x 12 foot camper on a diet of protein and sugar.
Anyway, I packed what they asked for and, because I love them, included condiments, a loaf of bread, and a selection from the popular food groups “chips” and “dips”.
I’m just caring like that.
(I also tossed in some food from the lesser known – more nutrient dense and life sustaining – groups, but that was only so I could unpack those same foods, untouched, a few days later.)
(I’m just ridiculous like that.)
Then, I sent them on their merry way and for the next 72 hours wallowed in the misery of my empty home pining for their return…
I sent them on their merry way and for the next 72 hours I did whatever the hell I felt like.
(I won’t go into wild details but suffice it to say Wine and Pinterest were involved.)
(It was awesome)
And then it was over. Waaaaaay too soon. My beloved family returned a day early.
Rained out, they said and wet they were.
I cooked vegetarian that night and, for the first time ever, guess what was missing.
Complaints and leftovers.
For those wondering, the weekend wasn’t a total bust. They came back with a grouse.
And ate it. Wrapped in bacon.