Just the opposite of what I long for: here I sit drinking bad coffee in a gigantic shopping mall, awaiting She Who Must Be Obeyed (nod to Rumpole). But maybe you have the same rationale … every day spent doing your spouse’s bidding is redeemable for one more day in the field.
With the first leg of the Wingshooting USA Awesome Upland Road Trip just about a week away, it’s a worthwhile investment. Points scored, husbandly duty fulfilled. It doesn’t negate the noisy, brat-filled monument to consumerism, overrun with of posers (white rappers in Beaverton, Ore.? Fashionistas of all shapes and sizes … many who should try harder to avoid spandex.) But there is a slight glimmer from the light at the end of the long, Muzak-drenched tunnel.
As MLK put it, “keep your eyes on the prize,” and it’s easier to do when the remaining calendar pages turn quickly toward fall. Is it because you’re in a location that is the polar opposite of gold-tinged fields and the tinkle of dog bells? The contrast is notable: the only plant life in sanitized containers, leaves dusted daily, recirculating the exhalations of multitudes. Not a swatch of real camo, but plenty of the “urban” type, and too many males in designer suits instead of briar pants and sweaty hats.
Anyway, the prize is within sight … cackling roosters, rigid tails at 12 o’clock, dog slobber, the pungent and distinctive nose-bite of spent shells … but you know that, don’t you? You’ve been consulting the calendar, too, calling hunting friends and asking about bird populations. You’ve paid the $15 for a box of good shells, and promised yourself to make every shot count.
What else takes your mind from shopping to shooting? What keeps you sane during the “work day?” Where are YOU headed? Now’s the time to share and possibly win a pair of Irish Setter boots. Make your comment, and you’re entered in the random drawing. See you in the coverts, soon.