On the hunt...

So, I am sitting here in Temple at my mom's, waiting with bated breath. Oh yes... my husband has gone a-huntin', folks.

Huntin' with my brother. Huntin' for a doe-eyed little dee-uh.

Phil is an Indiana boy. He's hunted squirrels. He's hunted birds. Heck, he may have even hunted for possum, but I'm *pretty* sure he's never gone deer-hunting before. I know for sure he's never killed one.

I, on the other hand, grew up in a family of hunters. My dad hunted. My brothers hunt. My uncles, and cousins, and grandparents hunt. I have even sat my stint in a deer stand when I was a kid. The Jacksons are hunters, people. We say 'huntin' instead of 'hunting', and, daaaamn...we look good in camouflage.

I grew up eating deer meat, and was embarrassingly old when I realized that chili can actually be made with ground beef, too.

So Phil's gone hunting to try to blast some little Bambi right between the eyes so that I might have some deer meat. What a guy. The fact that he gets to fire a gun has nothing to do with it, I'm sure.

They hunted yesterday afternoon, with no luck, so today was back to the deer stand. This morning, actually. At the @$$-crack of dawn. Even though, technically, 4:45 a.m. is not even dawn. It's just flat-out crazy.

It's almost 10 in the morning, and I haven't heard yet if it was a successful huntin' trip. The kids asked this morning where their dad was, and I told them he was hunting again today. Josie, my little new-age flower-child, who loves animals of all kinds and species said, "Mmmmmm... I can't wait to eat some deer meat!"

I guess her allegiance to the Ethical Treatment of Animals is in direct proportion to the tastiness of said meat. That's my girl. ;)