I assumed, my bad.

A reader asked me if it is ever difficult living with a man that hunts and fishes all the time.

Here's a post I wrote on our family blog circa October 2010.....

It will explain everything.

Promise.

**********************************************************

So I am trying to find words for the experience I had this morning.

I still can't even begin to describe what went through my head at the exact moment it happened-- panic, embarrassment and complete madness all occurring at one time.

Last night Brecken and I attended the annual pumpkin carving party at the Barnwell abode. Like always, it was delightful and fun. John, however, didn't show up. As usual he was hunting. But much to my relief he did finally kill an elk.  

When he got home he decided rather than taking his elk to a butcher he would quarter it himself in our garage.

Whatever.

Once he finished, however, he came the realization that he needed to do something with the elk carcass. His plan--put it in the garbage can.

Let it be known that I was not fine with this idea.  

For those of you that have never been with a 10 yard radius of an elk let me explain.

They are big, like a cow/horse big.

Our garbage can is not big enough to fit a cow/horse creature in it.

I thought his idea was bad--really, really bad.

John kept barkin' at me because I wasn't being that helpful (because I didn't think his idea was great) so I huffed into the house and as I slammed the door I yelled, "Fine you try to put a square peg in a round hole."

Ten minutes later.

Tap, tap, tap on the front door.

I opened.

John replied, "I put it in the garbage can."

I being a good wife believed him and decided that after all the grief I could forgive him and we could finally go to bed at 2:30 in the freaking a.m.

NO. No. the story is not over.

The next morning when I was getting ready to leave the house this is what I saw as I pulled out of the garage. 

BAHHHHHH!

I almost died.

Obviously, I assumed that we both understood what it meant to put something "in" the garbage.

my bad.

I called him right away, trying to remain calm.

"There will be no negotiation. The elk head that has taken up residency in our FRONT yard has to go." 

Furthermore, I tried to explain that there was more than a handful of reasons on why this was soo wrong.

 First, our garbage pickup would not happen until Tuesday and that meant that the head would be sticking out saying "Hi" to everyone for FIVE days. 

 Secondly, Halloween  would be occurring within the five day time frame so of course anyone and their dog that walked up to our house would see the head.

After prodding him for hours on the issue he finally came home and covered the head with a garbage bag, and yes, it still sat out like that for five days.

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So an answer to your question, is it difficult living with a hunter?

Need I say more?

The dip

 We did it.

We broke down and took (the first round) of family photos this weekend.

For some families this may be easy, for my family (WHOLE family) it involves a lot of chaos, screaming kids, googly faces, and yelling at each other to smile and keep our eyes open. 

It was epic, in a not so epic way. 

And to top it off we were racing against the clock--the sun was setting quicker then usual.  

I thought during all the chaos that it would be nice for Hunk and I to take a picture of us loving one another--just so we could prove to our kids someday that their parents were actually hot at one time.

I should have known this is when the real chaos would ensue...

Hunk hates taking pictures, I love being bossy, Hunk enjoys making me irritated, I enjoy taking pictures.

All culminating into an enjoyable picture taking experience.

;) 

narration of the photo process (for your enjoyment):

Me: "Kambrie where should we stand?"

 Hunk: "Is this really necessary to take photos, the kids are screaming?"

Me: "Yes, this is necessary just pose we are loosing light!"

 Hunk: "I don't know if I like being this close."

Me:  "I put on deodorant, so smile at the camera."

 Hunk: "Is this what you want?"

Me: "you are going to tip me over..FYI."
Kambrie: "Ugh, look AT the camera this is not 1985."

 Kambrie: "nice, but why don't you two actually pretend to hug each other."

 Hunk: "Is this what you mean by hugging?"

Whole Group: "John, no dipping! Do you remember your wedding?!"

Wedding.

 Hunk: "You told me to hug you."

Me: "Yeah, I told you to hug me, not attack me."

 Hunk: "Fine where do I put my hands?"

Me: "Really? We're not in high school."

 Hunk: "Seriously guys stop making fun of my dipping skills."

After 10 minutes of picture taking we finally got the winner... and I thought it was difficult to take pictures of Punk...

Happy Dad Day

My Dad is a real cowboy.

His wardrobe consists of a plethora of cowboys hats, cowboy boots, long sleeve pearl snap shirts, and wranglers.

He's the kind of guy that is up at five every morning to do chores, ride horses, chase cows, and fix fence.

He's the last one in the house at night and when he walks through the front door he has always put in a honest day of hard work. 

He's the kind of Dad that believes in tough love. When we cried he told us to, "buck it up." When we got hurt, "It's far from your heart." When it came to summer vacation he thought it was best that we work everyday and not watch tv.

He is also the kind of Dad that cried when we left for college, bragged to everyone when we accomplished something amazing, and expected more then the best from us each and everyday.

He's also the kind of Dad that is not afraid to embarress his kids in public when he rides a cow in the local Fourth of July parade.

Happy Father's Day Dad!

And what would Father's Day be like if I didn't give a shout out to..

the peanut butter to my jelly

the salt to my pepper

the left to my right

the ying to my yang

the mac to my cheese

the nail to my hammer

the bacon to my eggs

the black to my white

the burger to my fries

the rock to my roll

the spaghetti to my meatball

the bread to my butter....

Happy Father's Day Hunk! You are a rock star Poppa!

Marriage

I have officially been in the marriage business for four years, or...

1,461days

35,064 hours

2,103,840 minutes

It's a grueling kind of work I tell ya. No one ever told me how hard it would be.

I was deceived I tell ya, one hundred percent deceived!

I thought it would be easy, then I got married and I learned the truth.

marriage is hard--but going back to the dating world.....would be way worse.

Agree?

There are small things I have learned to love about marriage.

I love having someone to kiss good bye every morning.

I love having someone to share lunch with everyday.

I love having someone to cuddle.

I love having someone to hold me while I cry.

I love having someone to laugh at my jokes--even when they are clearly not funny.

I love having someone tell me I look pretty--even when I'm pregnant with cankles.

I love having someone who doesn't need to always talk, but loves to sit in silence.

I love having someone who wants to grow old together.

I love having someone who wants to give me the world.

I love having someone who still wants to be in the same room with me after 126,230,400 seconds of marriage.

And if I haven't said it, well I will let the whole world know that my someone is Hunk.

I love you, Babe.

Opposites attract

Fact: opposites attract.
Fact two: opposites attract, then decide that they should get married, then realize they are opposites after all the papers have been signed.
Fact three: opposites get married, fight like cats and dogs, decide to bring a spawn into the world, still realize they are opposites, but still love each other even though they don't agree with the others habits.
Fact four: Hunk and I are opposites.

Case in point:
He loves meat, I love vegetables.
I cry at chick flicks, he likes movies with guns, explosions, and lots of killing.
He falls asleep at dinner, I stay up 'til one.
I resemble an oompa loompa, he resembles a string bean.
He likes rap, I love country.
I sleep on my back, he sleeps on his stomach.
He takes cold showers, I take steamin' hot showers.
He loves winter, I love palm trees.
I fight emotionally, he fights objectively.
I love Grey's, he loves 24.
I big puffy heart love Mac, he loves PC.
He puts the cap on the tooth paste, I leave it off.
I think Mexico is a vacation, he thinks Alaska is a great getaway.
He loves math, I love english.
I read books, he reads the cereal box.
I like hoarding, he likes throwing away.
He snores. 'nuf said.
I like parties, he hates parties.
I love healthy food, he loves pizza and chips.

Pizza.

It has always been an issue in our house. I prefer the all vegetable kind, while he lives for every animal on the planet to be on top of his pizza.

*blehk*

I am by no means a vegetarian just so ya'll know. I love myself a good steak, but there is something about an all meat pizza that makes my stomach do somersaults.

So to advert the problem of fighting over who gets the choose what type of pizza we eat we have started to make mini pizzas that fit our personal tastes.

These babies are delish my friends.

We have a little trick where we mix parm and mozzerella together and it creates a cheesy goodness that is to die for.

The most important ingredient, though,  is the crust. We buy either flatbread shells (like above) or pitas.

I started using pita shells after I bought Jess Seinfield's Deceptively Delicious cookbook. If you don't have it, go. get. it. now.

It's how I fool Hunk into eating vegetables.

Now I must retire to a dreamy world where I can enjoy my cheesy goodness at 10:30...in the a.m.

I am sending out a big puffy heart to.....

...this little dude.

 ...and to my favorite big dude.

And, heck, while we are at it, Punk it gonna send out one of those basset hound, up in your face, slobbery and warm kisses to each of you! Yes, I know, I know...it will be the best kissy EV-ERRR!

Big Puffy Heart Day to all my favorite lovelies!