Posted by: Charity_Maness on 08/01/2010 02:42 PM
Updated by: thepinetree on 08/01/2010 06:18 PM
Expires: 01/01/2015 12:00 AM
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Welcome to the Country, a humorous look at life in the country ~ by, Charity Maness
Welcome to the Country...So you’ve decided to move to the country where the call ‘opening day’ has a totally different meaning than what you would think.While opening day usually brings visions of tailgating parties, baseballs rocketing skyward, or footballs spiraling through the air, up here in the country opening day is synonymous with camo. Yup. Camo....
Opening day in the country requires many things to make it complete; first and foremost the ownership of a ‘D5’ tag, or a ‘D3’ tag, or something similar. Next for some strange reason head to toe camo is relatively mandatory; camo boots, sox, pants, shirt, jacket, hat, watch, and for the true hard core opening day dude…camo boxers. Top this all off with a bright orange vest and you’re good to go. The camo is supposed to make you blend into the forest to catch the all illusive prey, whereas the bright orange vest that covers the camo is to alert fellow opening day enthusiasts that you are really not a vertical moss covered log, but a human disguised as one.
If you have not figured out that opening day is for deer season, you may need to re-read the last paragraph. For those of you that got this, please continue. So in my ‘always looking for the funny side of life’ mind I pictured a line of orange vested, camo clad, ‘D’ tag holding hunter’s lined up just waiting for the starting gun. Evidently I am seriously off base. The tags limit the amount of deer that can be taken from one area, therefore limiting the amount of neon hunters located in that given area. Any deer that did not get the memo telling them to head south is in for a rude awakening.
The only thing I could possibly compare this event to is:
I am in possession of my recently stocked check book; following the principle “if I have checks…I must have money.” I have my credit card and a shopping cart the size of Dallas. I am awaiting the opening of the massive glass doors to the sale of the century at a Kohl’s department store. The tension mounts, knowing there are only four hot pink cashmere sweaters to be had, and forty women approximately my size vying for said sweater. I scope out my competition, note their lack of appropriate stealth gear, mainly comfortable shoes, good for running, turning on a dime, and stopping quickly at the sight of prey. The planning, the concentration, and the perfectly laid out plan all to commence in twenty minutes.
I feel the rush, assuming it may be similar to that of my camo clad testosterone filled missing links and my husband as they hunt.
I come home the victor, my new hot pink cashmere sweater proudly displayed on the coat tree by the door for all to see as they enter my humble abode. I can only hope there will be no Bambi head hanging above my fireplace in place of my beautiful Japanese bridge Monet.
Until next time….welcome to the country.
www.charitymaness.com
Photo of son in bush ghillie suit just in case there are some wayward Kangaroos out here in the country. He subscribes to the ‘always be prepared’ motto.
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