When the Homily is about Immunology

The Redneck Bachelor Weekend

[WARNING: Do not try anything of what you are about to read, we are trained professional rednecks and you likely are not and even if you were you'd be even less likely to admit it. The creator of this blog accepts no liability for you being more stupid than him or for you being a worse shot or for you be less able to handle your ale or for you just being less lucky]

My wife and fellow Logger Steve's wife went up to Canada to attend an Orthodox Christian Militia Crusader Camp for preparation of our retaking of Constantinople, after all 500 years of occupation is enough. Kh. Frederica I hear is a crack shot with an AK.

Steve and his boys came to our side of the pond and so we two semi-responsible parents set up our own sort of survival camp. Actually, we were blessed with nice weather on saturday, proving once again that Northwest meteorologists earned their degrees from an online school based in Indonesia. Anyway, we therefore spent most of our day outside.

A side about the chicken ranching duties. Them doggies are doing better most everyday about getting outside. On saturday I did the duty of roundin' up and chasing em out...and yes, "Rawhide" was playing in my head. By Sunday though, fully half of them came out on their own. As the sun sets we then reverse the process and again "Ride em in...RAWHIDE!"

So, my wife poses this profound philosophical question: Why make a dump run when most of what you have to take is flammable? Therefore, with the help of a chainsaw, kerosene, and a number of dysfunctional lighters we got ourselves a right roaring bonfire composed of the remains of varies articles of furniture and other stuff. After the last of what needed to be consumed was placed into our little gehenna, we sat down in camp chairs and tended the flames by popping the caps off of some Snow Caps.

And, not being satisfied by this alone, Steve went and got his pistol and we began popping caps at a variety of targets we set up along the edge of the forest. So there we were, sitting in camp chairs, tending our bonfire, drinking beer, and shooting at stuff. Now before you get all "judgy", know that we were indeed wearing ear protection, and being too lazy to move I used my hand as eye and face protection from Steve's spent shells that kept plucking me in the head. I'm sure we were quite a sight, if only I had an old Chevy Turbo 350 tranny to kick my feet up on.