A little more study for that spelling bee next week, "Son". Made a mistake with rhubarb when Mom was a young bride. She knew how much I liked rhubarb pie so made me two one day. I ate the first one in usual young man style. I ate half the second one the next day and left the other half in the fridge for a bit too long. Mom asked why it was still there and I made the mistake of my life when it comes to pies. Nobody with life experience was there to give me a kick or explain how important the answer would be. I simply said, it doesn't quite taste like grandma's rhubarb pie - which was true but not that big a deal, unless you are a young bride who believes her "man" hates her baking. End result - not a single rhubarb pie for me for forty years and counting. Oh Mom will bake, but rhubarb remains a reminder of how one must very carefully assess a question from our better halves. I can't even trade her one of my lemon pies for a rhubarb baked by her. I'll assess whether or not to mention more shotguns in the "extended" family. I think I need to build the brownie point bank for a bit. Enjoy the Claybaugh.
I went a little early for the dog hike today. The gazillion snows are now a bazillion. Actually saw three young guys heading into a field to try their luck. They would be attempting to take a few after lift-off from the temporary lakes. I think I would set up where they go for dinner rather than hope for some pass shooting; however, with a bazillion birds, I imagine they did okay.
Cheers
Jack
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Hunt ethically. Eat heartily.
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