Remember those bloody bags? The contents? The sinister agent in my dream, Lee?
Well, Lee stopped by yesterday. I was awake this time. Although I admit I was napping when he came a tapping at our front door. I asked him in, hesitantly. He presented me with a box half-filled with frozen protein. I took an incredulous step backward.
The baleful stare of my dream was gone, replaced by a warm, neighborly smile. “Brought you some moose.”
So those weren’t people in the bags after all.
I lifted the flaps and looked inside. Pounds of breakfast sausage, ground meat, and steaks. “You brought us so much.”
“Nah. Processed four hundred pounds. Caribou’s coming next week. I’ll bring you some.”
Breakfast this morning:
Even the sound of game meat crackling in the pan is different than commercial pork or beef. The smell is beyond compare. One day you’re foraging, weeks later you’re being foraged. Life in the food chain. I prefer my place at the top.
Later, Lee stopped by again with his little granddaughter. She was pink head to toe. Superwoman! She didn’t have a bag but Happy Wife was the first of the night to treat her anyway. Chocolate covered kid’s protein bar. Left over from the bike tour this summer. Stingy? Oh, stop it; it’s all we had for goodness sake. The peculiarity of our location keeps trick-or-treaters away. I don’t think we’ve had a one in any of the five years we’ve lived here and I kinda doubt there will be very many out tonight at 28 degrees. And it’s breezy. Superwoman was shivering standing in our doorway. You think maaaybe her parents might have suggested the Bigfoot costume for its practicality over pink tights and a paper thin cape?
“I want PINK!”
“Okay okay, settle — we’ll get you a pink Bigfoot.”
Dog sitting today. Buddy. A fine beast overall but he’s kinda clingy. Why, not even a quiet moment of erudition can be enjoyed without him hovering, watching your eyes consume every sentence:
Mood (mine): Edgy.