One of the things I wanted to do with the proceeds from this really great job (besides buy a house) was to have my eyes fixed. They weren’t terrible, but I definitely needed glasses outside. Farting around with contacts while hunting was just a huge pain in the ass. I didn’t want to go up to camp and sleep in the back of the truck just because putting contacts in and out was horrendous. What if I had my annual case of poison oak on my hands? I shudder to think of the fallout of that one.

So when my eye appointment came up early this month, I talked to my new eye doctor about it. Turns out he worked with a laser center. They’d do the work and he’d do all of the follow-up checks so I didn’t have to drive an hour. Since I don’t mess around, I went for my evaluation the very next week.

They said I was a good candidate, so I booked an appointment for the next week. I had to shed my contacts and wear glasses until the appointment. Man, did I hate that. Switching from regular glasses to my out-of-date prescription sunglasses every time I went in or out, and working in the rain, what a hassle!

By Wednesday, I was getting pretty anxious about the thought of lasers shooting into my eyes. I was worried that the mechanism to hold them open would hurt, and I had no idea what the actual procedure would feel like. Thursday morning, they gave me a valium to take the edge off and Junior and I cooled our heels until it took effect and the doctor arrived. I was still feeling unsettled when I got the final talking-to, so he loaded me up with another one. Good thing too.

When they laid me down under the laser, I was really getting nervous. I’ve never known myself to be claustrophobic, but sure was getting that way with the bright lights and my eye taped open and having to hold really still. Once they started, it was totally creepy. I had to stare at a green dot, but I couldn’t always see the green dot. The suction device stuck to my eyeball gave me the heebie-jeebies, even though I couldn’t feel it really, but I could see it.

When he sliced open the flap on my eye, everything went dark. That was the only time I felt a little relief, since it was like my eye was shut and my brain could stop freaking out for a minute. When the laser went off and I could smell that burning-hair odor, the mental freak-out began again. When they were done and the doctor started squeegeeing the flap of my eye back where it belonged, I had to keep chanting to myself, “he’s wiping glasses, he’s wiping glasses.” I couldn’t feel it at all, but knowing what it was had me on the verge of leaping up from the table and running for my freedom. Junior was watching through a window and knew I was scared. The worst part was knowing that I had one more eye to go.

I’d always heard stories of people getting up from the table and instantly seeing clearly, but that wasn’t the case for me. Everything was foggy, the close-up stuff was way fuzzier than it had been before the procedure, and the lights all had halos. My left eye was really bad. The doctor brought me up from the table and wanted to snap a picture, but I had a hard time smiling. He pointed out the window, and things were clear out there.

Junior took me home and gave me the drugs and put me to bed. I have to wear funky goggles to keep my from rubbing my eyes in my sleep (although I still tried a couple of times last night).  I was still feeling the drugs when I woke up, and mostly lost Friday sleeping, but it seemed to do the trick. Today, I can see. My close vision isn’t so great, but they warned me it wouldn’t be. I’ll probably have to get reading glasses as I age, but that’s a small price to pay for clear distance vision. It’s much easier to wear glasses inside than to mess with them at work. My distance vision is great; every bit as clear as it was with my contacts. I don’t even seem to have any halos around lights at night. People say it just gets better over the next few months. I threw out all of my solutions and cases, and donated my glasses, and I’m glad to be rid of them. It was expensive, but totally worth it.

On a side note, Jamie gave me my first blog award the other day:

Thank you Jamie! Now I’m supposed to list five addictions and award five other bloggers, so here we go.

• I adore Hope in a Jar. It’s the only moisturizer that I will consistently use
• As well, Bare Minerals is about the only makeup I’ll use
• I can’t stand canned chicken soup and love to make my own
• I’m deep into a short-term addiction into the show Nip/Tuck. I’m starting Season 2 at the moment.
• I will be a hunter for the rest of my life

As far as bloggers go, I know a lot of fabulous bloggers. I’m going to count Jamie as already taken, but also fabulous are Nance, Sarah, Cowgirl, Sue, and WickedJaw.

Although deer season closed several months ago and bear season closed early last month, we didn’t want it to be over. Varmint season is still open around here, varmints being small fur-bearing mammals like bobcat and raccoon. We trekked on down to the DFG in Fresno at the end of the month to buy us each a set of bobcat tags; you don’t need a tag for fox or coon.

I’ve wanted a bobcat for a long time. I think they’re gorgeous animals and would love to have one on the wall. Our houndsmen friends look forward to varmint season as a way to train young dogs and keep the older ones in shape. The races tend to be faster than bear races, as the animals go to tree more quickly. It evens out though; sometimes a fox will take a flying leap from one tree to another and the dogs won’t catch it and are left baying up the wrong tree.

So this, our first free weekend after the holidays, found Junior calling on his way home from work to wake me up. It was before 3 AM; did I mention that he was working graveyard? Once I got over the confusion, I got ready and we hopped into the truck and left. I drove, he snoozed; it had been a long night already for him.

We met up with Maverick well before dawn, but with a bright full moon to light the way. After picking up some other friends, Maverick started roading the dogs to pick up a track.

They didn’t do much for a long time. Queen wanted to chase so bad that she was working extra hard to find something. When they hit a somewhat cold track, we got our hopes up. It turned out to be colder than we’d thought, so we had to retrieve dogs. Maverick had his pup Gypsy out with the older dogs, and she wouldn’t come in. Eventually he tracked her down on the other side of the ridge, but since someone else we hunt with sometimes had a fox treed across the highway, he sent us over thataway.

They weren’t treed too far off the highway. We waited for Maverick to throw his dogs in and went down the bank into a little draw to the tree. A small grey fox was in an oak tree, looking down at us. After some pictures, Dusty poked the fox out of the tree with a pole, so we could turn the dogs loose for another race. The fox ran right down the trunk, between Junior and Maverick, and off down the hill.

It wasn’t long before it was treed again. Dusty happened to have a 4WD gator, so we all piled in and got as close as we could to this second tree. It turned out to be a brushy, tangly site. We could see the fox in the clear sunlight, but had to crawl in under manzanita and buckbrush to get to it. At the tree, we five people and about ten dogs were crammed in like sardines. It was difficult to get far enough back to take decent pictures, especially with dogs using me as a convenient step to get higher up the tree to the fox.

We wanted to knock it out again, but hadn’t brought the poking stick. The tree wasn’t quite straight up and down, so the houndsmen took the traditional option of sending up the youngest and most bouncy member of the party to get it out. Jake shimmyed up that tree, shaking the fox’s branch, and the fox got nervous. It scooted out until the branch wasn’t big enough any more and then reconsidered. Even with the ring of crazy dogs and people, it decided that down was the path of least resistance. Down he went, springboarding off Jake’s hand, and disappeared back into the brush.

The dogs were right behind him and instantly, we were alone again as they tore off back down the hill. This time we had to drive around to get to a different angle, so it took us a little longer. Eventually we closed in on the tree again, some of us from the east and some from the west.

Another oak tree, and this one was getting dangerously close to the really big canyon. Nobody wanted to chase dogs all night, so it was time to end this game. Often, they just let the foxes go, the better to play with another day. This time though, I wanted one. It’s not something I’ve ever taken, so they let me have it.

I had to shoot dang near straight up, and hit him right in the chest, right where I intended to. A .22LR doesn’t kill all that quickly, so he was still kicking. They didn’t want it to get stuck in this highest tree yet, so they had me keep shooting him. I took another couple of shots and down he came. As their reward, the dogs got to go after the carcass. It makes them feel like they killed it and encourages them to want to hunt. There were a lot of young dogs there, and every time I tried to pick up my trophy, they decided that it was alive again and must be killed. I had to have sharp words with one dog who almost took my hand for fox parts, but he looked appropriately ashamed of himself.

We’ve got big plans for this pretty little beastie. I’d like get an oak branch from my folks’ house, and Junior thought of mounting him out on it, but with the branch overhanging the room from our big display shelf. I spent this afternoon skinning it out down to the delicate parts for Mike, our taxidermist friend. I’m not good enough to cape out something this small yet, and don’t want to practice on something I’d lke to keep. Junior will deliver the skin later in the week and it’ll go into Mike’s waiting line, but eventually it will grace our wall.

The best part though, was having season not being done yet. We got to drive around in our favorite place, smell the cedar, see some snow, and look at some big deer along the way.