 |
| Fuzzy Self-Portrait |
Great White Hunter hit testosterone-laden woods very early this morning, for opening day of deer season. He was quiet as a church mouse and did not interrupt my REM dream-sleep, upon arising at 5:00 a.m. There are advantages to having extra, empty-nest bedrooms. Problem is, he was bored by 7:00 a.m., already feeling cramped in his - ahem - tree hut. And thus began my day, with his first incoming photo and text, "Thank you 4 the coffee." Gratitude for my having set up the pot. Okay, that's sweet. Then, "No deer - just a moth." Followed by, "A woodpecker has joined me." Et cetera. After #21, I responded, "I'm trying to read. NO MORE!" No big deal; he just continued on to 44 of the same with Bri, who resided in a heated hut several miles through the woods (a right turn by the bear scat and several steps to the left of the huge hemlock tree). When their chatter subsided, Dawn factored in with 3 more photo-texts of Chloe at gymnastics. Moral of the comfy, cozy saga: May Bucky R.I.P. Who would believe?
