I’ve always been good at getting along with boyfriends’ parents. Except for the set I was actually married into–I loved my father-in-law just fine, but he up and died on me, leaving me with no support in a family full of harpies. Needless to say, my mother-in-law and I did not get along well from the day we met. It was initially her problem, but once you’re so thoroughly disliked, it becomes yours too.

So after that, I looked at meeting folks a little more nervously. The next set of almost-in-laws cured me of that though, and I was proud to be considered part of their family.

This set I’d already met, but just as a member of a fellow hunting camp. I liked them, but I was still nervous about meeting them in a different setting, and as their son’s girlfriend. That’s a pretty big change of status in a fairly short period of time. It’s important to me to not only get along with, but to like and be liked by these people who raised such an outstanding son.

So last night, I bit the bullet. I went up to see him for once, and brought the redneckiest gift ever. We’d been cleaning a drainage ditch out at work all week, and I’d been right down to the tops of my rubber boots in the mud, catching crawdads with a shovel. My original intent was to eat them, but they’re a little too small for that. They’re just perfect for bait though, and his father is a big fisherman, so sure enough, I showed up at their house with a bucket full of muddy crustaceans.

And they liked it, which just goes to show that I’m going to fit in with these people just fine.

I think they liked me too. We were talking hunting (of course) and at one point his dad said something about him having a hunting partner now, so I guess they’re OK with the concept of me being around for a while. That’s good; I intend to be, for a good long while. I am really getting all sorts of goofy for their son, so it’s nice to be comfortable with his family.

It’s a good start anyway. I like these people.

JJ seems to have the bear hunting bug, so when he was finished keeping Big Jeff company on his two-week archery hunt, he drove across the highway to our camp. I’d told him that he could stay with me so he didn’t have to sleep in his truck, and I got a little teasing from camp about that, but not too much. They know that those boys are my friends.

So bright and early Saturday morning found me once again following Todd down the old road. I’d see him slip in the mud ahead of me and I’d have an idea about where to put my heavier truck so it didn’t completely bog down, but remember that I’m sort of a beginner at this four-wheeling thing. So I didn’t hit the big mud hole with quite enough momentum to pull myself through and had to rock back and forth to get out of there. That old truck did it though, without having to climb out and break out the winch.

Todd had stopped just in front of me to do a little road clearing with the axe, so I shut it off to go walk up there. Good thing I did too, or I wouldn’t have heard the evil “hsssss” coming from my right front tire. Sure enough, I’d popped the sidewall, probably in that mud. I couldn’t have done it too much earlier, since it was still blowing air out; it stopped that while I was standing there looking at it. Brand new tires too.

 

 

 OK, time to find the jack then. I was in as good a place as I could have been on that road, and I had help. I think JJ might be a little bit of a bad tire-luck charm though–he changed my last flat for me too. Of course, that was more than five years ago, and I wasn’t even in the truck at the time; he was driving it and I was riding up ahead with Dennis.  

 

 

But he’s game, so he got under there with the mud dripping off of the suspension and jacked that sucker up. We got the flat one off and the spare on with hardly any problems. The spare was a little low, so I got to try out my new toy, grinning like a fool for getting to play with it. Whoever thought of putting an air compressor on a winch is a genius, I swear.  

After a whole day of chasing dogs and feeling useless, and the lack of another spare eating away at me, I’d had it. I did not want to be running around on those roads without one, even with my friends all around to rescue me. What a monumental pain in that ass that would be, if something else happened. My patron saint is Murphy, so something was bound to happen. So I dropped JJ off at camp with the food and headed on down the hill. I thought I’d paid for the extra hazard warranty on these tires, so I was hoping to sneak on down to the new store they’d opened and stare at them until they hurried up and put a new one on for me.

Turned out though, that not only did the new store not have that tire in stock, but the whole manufacturer is backordered. It’s a popular tire, and I can see why. I was quite happy with it myself, until I put that hole in it. I was down to Oakdale at that point, so my next best option would have been to buy a used tire to have on there temporarily, or at least to carry as a spare. But are there any tire shops open in Oakdale on a Saturday? Of course not. Ron generously offered up one of his extras, but a little more calling turned up that the lug pattern on a Ford of his year doesn’t happen to fit my Dodge. An older Ford would have, so it wasn’t crazy to think that it might.

I was feeling the time and wanting to get back up to camp by then. I figured I could go on a goose chase in Turlock, the next closest town, or I could go to a place where I knew damn well that they had a used tire in my size, and would be open, as they’re about across the street from my house. I drove all the way home, the long way, and got one of my old tires put back on, and got myself back up into the mountains by dinner time.

Once I was at home, a part of me was kicking myself for making that big circle of a trip. I could have just brought my stuff down with me and stayed at home, but camp was expecting me back, so back I went. Not showing up would have worried the hell out of them. Besides, I wanted to be there.

I was surprised on Sunday morning when all of the shooters and half of the houndsmen bailed on us. It was down to Don’s and Todd’s rigs, and me and JJ. I was really hoping that we’d catch one, as JJ’s put some heart into it lately and I wanted to see him get his. 

I got a little distracted coming back up the Old Road when Todd got a strike near there, and ended up turning into a wrong-way Charlie. My wrong turn was a right turn though, and it put us at exactly the right spot to not only hear the race, we actually saw the dogs flying by, in a strung-out pack, thirty yards from the road below us. Since we’ve been hunting that area so much this year, I had a very good feel for where they were going, so JJ and I took off after them on the main roads to get up around and in front. We ended up out on the end of the Julie road listening to the music down below us. Don and Todd came in at them from other angles and called us down.

I was for damn sure going to get JJ to that tree, so I might have been in a little bit of a hurry, but we got there in plenty of time. They were treed not too far up in the creek where I’d shot my bear last year, and where Junior got his this year, and where we’ve dragged twenty more out. The five of us busted our butts to get there and what a pretty sight we found when we did.

 

 

 He looked big, although it’s sort of hard to tell when they’re treed, and it was open and low enough to get some good photos. Just as cool as can be, JJ pulled out that pistol of his and aimed, and that bear was dead before he hit the ground (we like them to be dead quick like that.) It was a good shot.  

 

 

The best part of this one, even though I really like them all, was getting to see this look on my friend’s face. He and I have been friends for a long time; he and his family got me my first deer. I’d have been thrilled for him even if he hadn’t, but getting to pay him back for that was pretty special.  

 

 

He did a hell of a job, and I have a feeling that now he’s hooked. The bear hunting gets to you like that. I’ve been over the edge for a couple of years now. This is the best part, seeing someone else get such joy out of it.  

And I’m alone, working on a proposal. Well, mostly procrastinating, but I have time. I’m fine with being alone too. It’s not my year to have the kids, and they’ve gone up to their step-grandparent’s cabin for the whole weekend, so I get to go hunting tomorrow for the second weekend in a row. I’m roasting a duck for myself; I figured that I try out new stuff on the kids often enough, and a fair number of people don’t like duck, so I’ll make myself the only victim this time. I’m also fixing a full recipe of dressing, which I love and will guarantee that I have something leftover to bring up to camp to snack on.

I’m not alone all day though; Junior’s coming over after his family celebration, and he’s bringing pie. How can you beat a man like that?

Thanksgiving is traditionally a day of reflection, and I’ve been doing a fair amount of that lately. It’s really been an incredible year for me, full of turmoil but all working out in the end.

I made a huge career leap, and so far, it’s working out very well for me. I love being the boss, I love getting to work outside with my hands, and I love the money. For the first time in my life, I don’t really have to worry about money. Of course, that will change if I buy a house, and I do have to worry about continuing to get the contract, but the basics are taken care of.

The kids have evened out. John had a hard few years and Seamus was having trouble with school last year. Both of them brought home surprisingly good report cards this time and there have been hardly any groundings. I love that Seamus is finding joy in something that I like so much, and I’m also quite pleased that John is finding joy (and friends, for once) in something too, even if it’s not my “thing.” They’re so much easier for me to relate to at this age.

I’ve been incredibly lucky in finding the group of friends that I have. When I add them all up, I really have a large number of true friends, and even more friendly people. I’ve got friends that have stood by me for years and years, and I’ve connected with some new people this year that I expect to enjoy for years to come. I couldn’t have found a better group of people to hunt with and to learn from, and I’m beginning to feel like I really belong with that crowd too.

And after all of these years of being alone, and with varying levels of happiness about it, I’m thankful to have found this wonderful man. I’m a little on the odd side for a woman, I know, and to have found someone who’s not only cool with that, but loves that about me, is incredible. It’s very soon, but I expect to have a long and happy relationship with this one, and I’m looking forward to every day of it. He suits me like no one else ever has, and to have that drop into your lap out of nowhere is something that I never expected to happen. A couple of months ago, I would have thought (did think) that I was probably going to spend the rest of my life alone, and now I think that maybe I’ll have a partner in it after all. Wow.

So being alone on this particular day? No biggie. I’m not alone in life. I’m surrounded by good people, and I couldn’t be luckier.

In what would seem to be a contradiction, we got completely skunked hunting this weekend and I still had one of the best weekends up there I’ve ever had.

Getting to spend two days running in a truck with the man I really like will do that though. Talking about it and deciding that we really want to give it a shot will do an even better job of it. He likes his privacy, so I’ll leave it at that, and try to keep telling hunting stories, but hunting’s not what’s on my mind about now.

 

 

There weren’t many hunting stories to tell this weekend anyway. We turned out the dogs on Saturday and they went off into a miserable deep hole, and we didn’t get the last ones out until 11:30. I’d long since gone back to camp and cooked dinner for those poor guys who dragged in after all that time. On Sunday morning, they struck in exactly the same place; could have been a resident bear feeding there at night or we could have been up for another long day. But that time, they went in a different direction.  

 

By the time they treed and I got there, everyone else had beat me. Sometimes you’re the closest one to the dogs; sometimes you’re not. But nobody was looking concerned and there weren’t any dark spots peering out of the tree. In fact, the dogs didn’t seem to all agree which tree they should be barking at. Todd’s guess was that they’d treed a bobcat or a fox, and that he was hiding in there. After looking a lot, yelling, and pulling the dogs off to see if they’d pick it up again, that was the end of that day.  

 

I had to pack up camp and move the trailer too. We’d been in there too long, according to the resident ranger. He seemed to be OK with us just moving them across the road for a while, so that’s what I did. I didn’t set up there, just parked it. I’ll be back up on Friday and will put it back where it belongs. I hope he noticed that it was moved though, I don’t need a ticket.  

So now I’ve got to try to kick my brain into gear to work again. At least it’s a short week, and I get to go back up Friday. I can’t get enough of that place.

After laying low for most of last week and playing catch-up for most of this one, my body has decided that it’s Friday and I should therefore be in the mountains already.

Sadly, it’s only Thursday, but I do get to get ready to go tonight. Fill the water cans, make a pasta salad, make sure I have clean underwear in my hunting clothes bag, things like that which will keep me occupied and minimize the obsessing.

Normally I only lie awake on the night before opening day; by this far into the season, it’s old hat and I can just pack up my shit and go. But there’s a little bit of a twist in this trip, in which the man who I’ve been crushing on has been returning the interest, and will be there too. I am looking forward to this trip like no other.

Several of the other wives in this group hunt too, or at least come to camp, but there’s a significant number who don’t want to have anything to do with it. Some of those guys seem a little wistful at a single woman coming up–not out of interest, but because they wish their wives were into it. So you’d think that finding a man to date who is both into hunting and likes to have company doing so wouldn’t be such a challenge for me, but I’ve never had a boyfriend who was into it. Cowboy only came up the once, and that was mostly because he was worried about me spending so much time up there alone. If I was with the other guys, he figured I was plenty taken care of in case of emergency and just left me alone to do my thing.

I’d sure like to share this thing though; I’m no different than the guys who wish their wives were into it. So finding someone who’s not only into it, but a better hunter than I am, and who seems to be attracted to me too, now, that’s kind of exciting. I’d love to share this with someone, and that guy has a great potential for getting it.

I get to go up for the next three weekends too, which is rare. The kids are technically mine over Thanksgiving weekend, but the holiday itself is their Dad’s, and that family likes to get out of town for the holiday. So I get to get out of town too, as my backup operator is happy for the extra money. Three week’s worth of peace, coming right up!

You know, I do love my job. My work is engaging and challenging and something which I have selected to do myself, not something that got pushed onto me. I have a great contract, I work with some really good people (even if it is in County government) and I’m learning new things all the time. It keeps me interested. I love that I’m getting to develop a program from the ground up.

Being my own boss is cool too. There are some hassles, yes, like dealing with the IRS and having actual employees and such, but overall it’s great. I believe that I’ve just run into the big downside though, and that entails not having negotiated myself any sick leave into this contract. I don’t know if it’s even possible to work sick leave or vacation into a contract, as the bigger companies with enough people to cover things like this on their own would beat me out in a bid if I tried.

I came home from hunting Sunday and found myself doubled over and slightly blacking out in the bathroom, out of thin air. I’d felt fine before. I recognized it; even if I no longer have a gall bladder, I sure to remember what passing a stone feels like. An hour of excruciating pain later and I thought I was OK. I dropped Seamus off at his dad’s house and ran a couple of errands. That night though, it felt like I’d been kicked in the liver by a mule. Reasonable, I thought, but the nausea and the fever were kind of coming out of left field. And the body aches all over; where were those coming from?

This was bad news; sounded like the flu on top of the gall stone crap. And I had an important training class to get to Monday evening, and a job for another customer to do that afternoon. I stayed home from my regular job, hoping to get over it, hating to miss the time. I finally called it around noon and rescheduled with my poor customer, who had to go give out new shut-off notices to his tenants, and with the class and the hotel.

When Tuesday morning rolled around and I almost lost my cookies in the shower, it was clear that I’d made the right call. Another day off, another day without pay. So this morning I made it through the shower and hauled my shaky, hot ass in to work. I’d been in a couple of hours, making progressively dumber mistakes, when the next earliest person came in. She said I looked pretty bad, and since they didn’t want to catch anything I just went on home. For the third day in a row. Fortunately, I don’t have anything major going on that the regular maintenance guy can’t handle, but I hate to not be there. It’s not only losing the pay, but this is my evaluation period and I don’t want to give the impression that I’m a slacker. Of course, passing out at my desk wouldn’t give a very good impression either. I managed to get my paycheck deposited in one bank, although I forgot to write out the check to myself for the other bank. Maybe this afternoon. And I stopped and got some soup, although walking through the grocery store with all of its food smells was a little challenging.

So I’m back in bed. I’ve run out of interesting things to read, but at least I have a laptop now so I can surf. It’s going to be a long month; no more leaving early on Fridays, I have time to make up.

Boo.

Seamus went hunting with me again this weekend. John was invited, as it was his turn, but he had something else to do and says that he’d rather camp without the hunting anyway. So Seamus very happily took his place.

It’s so nice, leaving the trailer up at camp. I can be packed and ready to go in a half an hour, provided I do some preparing ahead of time. I swooped into school as it let out and picked up my son, and we were off. Two hours later, and there we were, home again. The other home that is, the one with the campfire and the dogs and the clean-smelling air.

 

  

Seamus has a couple of projects for his 4-H wildlife club that he’s working on. One is a simple log of spotting animals, and another is something he wants to make for the Fair; a display of tracks that he’s seen personally. He didn’t find too many good tracks this weekend, as it’s been pretty dry up there, but he sure did well on the spotting part.

Saturday morning started off with a few cold trails. The dogs struck, but pretty weakly, and didn’t find much of anything. There was a lot of driving around trying to find them before we figured out that two had just lit out and were probably down in the canyon. I had to explain to Seamus that this is a part of hunting too, looking for dogs, and sometimes it’s not a lot of fun. He and I went back to camp and cleaned up a little, and then went out to guard where the dogs might come back through. They’re supposed to come back more or less where they were turned out, but these had been gone for six or seven hours.

We sat by the Ranger Station, not being especially quiet with our honking the horn to call the dogs in. I looked up at the meadow next to us, and there were two does and a fawn, completely unconcerned about our presence. So he got to watch their behavior, and how they heard an upcoming vehicle before we did.

More sitting, and then it was fully dark. Don sent us home, having caught one of the two truants. One our way back out the road, we picked up a dark shadow in the headlights. Sure enough, it was a bear running down the road right where we’d been sitting earlier. I bet we dropped some snacks. So he got to check that one off his spotting list too. That was pretty cool; I’ve never seen one from the road like that myself either. The boys back at camp were thrilled to hear it too, and I’ll give you three guesses where we started hunting on Sunday morning.

Sure enough, they struck right there. Fran was in our truck with me, as Todd had the shooter with him (it’s fun to ride with Todd) and all of the vehicles were well spread out. Fran had a feeling that the bear was treed over the ridge, and she was right. He wasn’t too far from the road, and we all made it in time to take quite a few photos. Seamus even made a video with his camera, complete with flinchy movements when the gun went off.

I think I received one of the best compliments of my life. The two houndsmen were under the tree seeing to the dogs, and the shooter was new. They sent him over to listen to me. Having those boys think that I know what I’m doing just felt great, like I might actually be learning something. Hell, give me a few years, a house out of town, and the freedom to take every single weekend off to run dogs, and I might turn houndsman (so to speak) myself. I’m really falling in love with the sport.

I may have received another nice compliment too. It seems that my crush may be mutual, as he was asking about me. Now the whole camp is conspiring to set us up. I’m OK with that if he is. And I’ve decided to just get over myself with the age thing. Men like him don’t come along every day.