So according to what's in my fridge right now tomorrow night we are having fried dew worms with sautéed deer carrots topped with caramelized onions and crispy cheese. It’s hunting season and my fridge is the first place you can recognize that. Unless you see the pile of carrots at the end of my driveway that we learned the hard way is best to keep it out of the dogs reach or it becomes the all-you-can-eat carrot buffet and a certain furry creature ends up kinda chunky by December. Our fridge contents are kept at a bare minimum and the kid’s bar fridges are kept empty to take what is still in the fridge at a moments notice when a body needs to be put in the big one. Last year when we built our new house I bought our appliances in Mississauga and they don't seem to understand the concept of needing a fridge that can hold an entire deer and look at you funny when you ask if it is big enough. The lady that I bought the new freezer from was equally as confused when I asked her how big it was and how many deer it would hold. They just don't seem to know any practical knowledge in whatever country that is south of Barrie.

In this family everything revolves around hunting and rule number one in this house is: we don't book $h!# in deer season. The kids know to make as little noise as possible in the mornings and when they get home they can only have lights on in rooms that are on the side of the house where the baits aren’t. Until half an hour after sunset the house is dark and silent. Today I completely re-shuffled two bedrooms worth of furniture to be able to see any deer at two of my baits- including stacking two of the mattresses so I can see one while sitting in bed. Yesterday I woke up and had the overwhelming need to open the curtains-only to see a spike horn at a bait. There are no words for the panic that ensues when a deer is spotted and I am trying to round up everything to get out there at it. There is a lot of running around and quietly screeching at anyone in the house “don’t (insert fancy word here) move”. This year that also included freaking out at the dog who was also going crazy because mom suddenly went insane and she didn’t know why.

We occasionally do this really fun thing at work where one of us goes through the overstock of firearms that are supposed have an identical one on the rack and calls another person on their cell phone while they go through the rack to see if there is one of each SKU actually on display for sale. This is smarter than when we did it by screaming back and forth. This 5-minute task takes a few hours and is also the reason I’m filthy for the rest of the day and why my knees hurt like “crazy” right now from trying to see the bottom of the shelves. I recently admitted the overstock and empty box racks are too full (short me can’t reach the top with a stool) and we are now in the process of renovating the tool room to be able to take the empty boxes. Please cross all your body parts along with us that a government change will reverse the ridiculous laws being placed on legal hunters and allow me the confidence required to add another essential building onto the existing armoury that still continues to expand despite our lack of space.

A lot of last week I spent at moose camp for bow season. I personally don’t hunt but I bring cookies, loudness and humour. 15 dozen chocolate chip cookies they ate in 6 days was the final count. The weather was not so nice and everyone ended up soaked at one time or another. The hill on the property was slippery as can be and almost everyone left there black and blue from “falling”. One hunter ended up stabbing themselves with a broad head then later got terribly lost (in a bunk bed- wobbly pop may have been the cause). I went down one night in my mustang convertible and passed two snow plows. I’m not saying I wasn’t the guilty party, but there was no snow on the road. Between me and the plow- someone was crazy, but I think we’ll just call it a tie. There are a lot of other funny stories I just can’t completely tell you. There was a sandpaper injury, a vandalized window and some sort of squirrel problem but those stories will forever stay where they happened. That’s how you know you did it right-when there are more stories you can’t tell than ones you can.

Like all kids, mine try to get days off of school constantly. One missed the bus this week because the bus was legitimately late. I’m not saying I forgot to go back home and get them (they’re old enough to be home alone) but around 2:30 I admitted the fact they were getting a free day off. In this house the only days you get to skip school without being deathly sick are in deer season. The first week of November is-and always will be a holiday in this house. Go to school or don't it's up to you-just get your work done. I only go to work some of the days and it will always be like that.

So now, as our bodies have all survived the cuts, bruises, liver damage and other afflictions (often requiring antibiotics) from moose season and we approach deer season I wish you all my following traditional wishes. May this time be spent with friends and family alike (and some we don’t like as much). May your aim be true and accurate. And for the love of absolutely everything-may whatever happens at deer camp stay at deer camp.