Black Friday

This is not a term I grew up hearing. We just didn't use it in my family. I heard it for the first time two years ago in a Wal-Mart when a huge woman backed into me with great force and then yelled at me that I shouldn't go out on Black Friday unless I expected to deal with rudeness. Well, despite the fact that I took her plowing me over in stride, smiling and begging her pardon, I was completely unaware that rudeness was par for the course on a busy shopping day. Consider me educated; now I know.

I should add that I was in the South. My husband was correct so many years ago when he said that Southerners are rude. Now, hold on. Yes, I am a Southerner, and quite proudly so! But we absolutely are innately rude. Don't believe me? Move to the Midwest or New England or to the Rockies for five years or more and then go home and see how asinine everyone seems.

You can't see it while you are still enmeshed in it. I couldn't. But having been gone for many years now and returning, I am appalled by the lack of friendliness and decency that abounds in nearly all public places. There's an attitude of "If I don't know you, you better get out of my way. You are worthless and to be scorned."

I digress; the point was that I don't shop on Black Friday. And good thing too, since deer season opens on November 15th in the U.P., and during the month that follows it's the only thing that matters.

Derek bought me a rifle with a scope, insulated camo boots, a scent-lock coat, a compass - yada yada, the works - about a month ago. I had been saying that I wish we had a shared hobby - you know, something we could do together. I was thinking golf. Apparently he was thinking shooting things. It's all good. I like to shoot rifles. I just don't know how I'm gonna do the first time I have a Bambi in the sights. Now, I could shoot a squirrel, no problem. I hate those jerks. Like I said - we'll see....

Here I am on Black Friday in a beautiful old maple forest way off the beaten path, sporting my new duds.



Well, you can't really SEE the duds. That's what happens when you take a self-portrait; you get what you get. You see, I thought this "doing something together" would be super cool since we'd get to spend the day walking in the woods together. But here's how it actually went down:

We drive WAY back in there. Derek points to a road that shoots off from the main road and says that's the one HE is going to walk. We keep driving. He says he's going to take me up ahead to show me where I will walk, and that we'll meet at the road that runs along the river which he assures me I'll run into "over the ridge and down a ways."

He gives me about 10 seconds of instruction on hunting deer, knowing that I already know how to shoot, and tells me that I will likely see a coyote and possibly a wolf. I ask him what to do in either case. He says "Nothing!" as if I am a daggone fool for asking.

I drive him back to his road and ask a few questions about how we are going to meet up. He man-speaks: Do what I said and I'll find YOU. He is smiling, big. This is much fun for him and he is delighted that I am here with him. I smile too, happy that he's so happy.

I drive back to my road, fully blowing a tire on the way. But I don't know it until later because the road is so crappy that I am bouncing to the roof anyway. There is no way I could have felt the flat tire. I go over one mile until I reach MY road again. I park. I pee. I take five minutes to get my four layers re-tucked and myself comfortable again. It's about twenty degrees and I am regretting not wearing my balaclava, but I think this is going to be fun, even though I feel alone. A coyote howls. It sounds close. Whatever. I can't wimp out.

Long story short (ha ha):

I take about an hour to stroll down my road, walking and stopping and setting down in a couple of choice spots and waiting and listening. It's very loud when I walk. The snow is shallow and the leaves are very crunchy. It's even louder when I sit quietly . I have no idea what all of the animal noises are. I don't really want to know. I am a city girl alone in a place more remote than many of you have ever been or may ever go. A few trees have dead and dried leaves left on them. They are beautiful, but they sound like tambourines made from paper plates and dry pinto beans in the wind.



When I reach the road near the river, I meet up with Derek exactly as planned. Well, he's not there right away, but by that time I was comfortable enough in my surrounding that I wandered into the hills again and sat to listen to the sounds while I waited. When he arrives, he is exasperated: "There are NO deer in here."

We head back up my road to the truck, chatting about what we'd seen and about the pretty forest. When we see the flat tire, Derek tells me he thought he'd heard a gunshot as I drove away earlier. I still don't understand why I heard nothing.



Amazingly, we have cell coverage. You can't get two bars when you're ten feet outside of downtown (marked by the one flashing light), but drive to the top of a ridge twenty minutes away and, by golly, you'll get four bars! Every dude in town is home lying on their couches with their hands in their pants, so we have plenty of friends who can't wait to come help us. Red wins the toss-up. He's got an air tank, which we need since the spare is flat.

I stroll around taking pictures while we wait for Red to arrive.



I LOVE birch trees. Do you think this picture would look cool in the office?



We got just a tad bit of snow again on Thanksgiving. The trace or so from last week and the week before had long since melted. I wonder when the first Big One is going to roll in. The lake is still so warm. Oooo.... It's just WAITING to dump on us.
Eh, enough weather hype.



This is the "I am still smiling despite the flat tire and no deer" smirk.

On Saturday Derek got his buck when he went out alone.
I'll let you know when I get mine!