4.28.2011

how-to-shoot-a-gun-and-not-break-a-nail

Every now and then I am reminded that I am married to a logger. I suppose it has been more than two years now, so I've gotten used to the things that might have been new and peculiar to me in the beginning. 

When I think about it, I've been so devoted to motherhood that I have forgotten how silly my husband is. Why haven't I blogged how he reorganizes his hefty wood pile [see here] constantly like how a woman reorganizes her cabinets? I also haven't blogged about how he is now turning over to bow hunting and has created a target in the backyard with hay bales. 

Or how he brings home "treasures" from the woods. I've blogged about some of the decorative treasures, but the other day he brought home what looked like a rock, but indeed it was wood. He held it up to the window so proud. "You know what this is!?" "Looks like a rock," I said. "Petrified wood." "Cool," I replied. "Do you know what petrified wood is," he asked since my response clearly indicated I had no idea. He then told me about petrified wood and placed it in our walkway of wood treasures filled with some rusted thing and arrow heads.

My metropolitan side is rubbing off on him as well. He started cycling. Straight up spandex and tight jerseys. Hardly anyone cycles here. In the beginning, my hubs was so worried he would pass loggers on his ride. 

Hubs also started making beer. Boy, is it tasty! I reap the benefits of that one...well, I reap the benefits of his tight spandex too. 

Moral of the story is, hubs brought home this flier the other day: 
I love the painted nails.
Yes, that is right. Gun club. Hubs has brought me shooting once when we were dating. I liked it. Now because so-and-so's wife from work is taking a how-to-shoot-a-gun-and-not-break-a-nail class, he was going on and on about how I should take it. 

Funny thing is, I think I will. Marrying a logger or just in general, a conservative man, has opened my eyes to another world. Guns for instance. I like the feeling of protection since Chris leaves so early for work. However, it has been two years since I was shown how to shoot that pretty pistol in my closet. I doubt I would know how if need be.

And here I was wanting to sign up for a cooking class. Hmph.

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