More often than not my husband Mr. Rogers, receives not only sympathy but lots of "man-vites" from his less than estrogen filled male associates.
It is not uncommon for the whole family to go out to dinner or grocery shop and have observant bystanders shake their head in dismay or remark "All girls?" in a joking , but oh so fearful manner.
To which my husband will respond "Yeah, all girls, every one", and then shove a 12 pack in the cart.
One man asked him once "How do you do it man. I mean all the talking and drama?"
To which he responded " I took up hunting when the first one reached puberty- it helps to kill things....and keep it legal."
About the time Happy Mouth was diving head first into the teen years, Mr. Rogers was invited to go hunting.
Now living in the south you may stereotypically assume we all know how to fire a weapon-
well I'm here to tell you assume away
because you would be correct.
(for my animal lovers out there -all I can say is we eat what we kill-and the circle goes on)
So for the past five or six years Mr. Rogers has hunted away twice a year with some friends;
to which the only qualification needed for friendship is the required twenty-five word exchange.
I swear men are so weird ; what kind of lexical budget is that?
Anyway, in addition to hunting, golf is always present
(and the actual means to our marriage-that's another story) and fishing has become the latest free time passion.
Why at a nearby lake just this morning he was casting away for hours.
I made a quick visit to see if he and Forrest needed lunch and I was taken in by the story of
the 8-10 pound bass that had " gotten away."
As he told and retold the story over and over..
the fish got bigger and bigger
Forrest only agreed enthusiastically every time and added how "Awesome" dad was trying to reel him in.
"Well that's great," I say "When do y'all want to have lunch?"
I am now being stared at like I am a Cyclops.
"I AM catching this fish, then I'll be in" he seethes.
Wow-- well that is just to obsessive for me ,
especially since all the fish he catches he throws back.
"Your sure?", I say.
I now back away slowly...... very slowly....
in fear of bodily harm.
I may have to rename Mr. Rogers, Captain Ahab
because he is certain to hunt down his Moby Dick in madness.