by Katie on December 29, 2016

So, right after our ten-day Thanksgiving trip to Texas, I was supposed to meet Brandon down south to spend a weekend hunting. And tent camping. In the snow.

The night before my departure, I was desperately holding onto the possibility he would find and kill a deer on the evening hunt. But as my luck would have it, he did not.

Mind you, I am not opposed to hunting. Or hiking. Or camping. Even tent camping. But once the temperature drops below a certain level, and for sure anytime snow is involved, there are lots of places this mama would rather be. Under my down comforter being chief among them.

But, being the good wife I am (or was that day anyway), I set off the next morning prepared for a frigid night beneath the stars.

My mother-in-law came over before daylight so I could make a last minute run to the store for provisions sans children, where I made sure to place a bottle of wine in my cart. I mean, if I was going to be in a tent in freezing temperatures, I may as well try to get warm from the inside out, right?

After stocking up, shipping our dear children down the road (for the first overnight away from the baby) and packing all my insulated overall hunting pants, I set off at the precise hour I needed to meet Brandon at our proposed time in town.

And he was two hours late. But that’s really neither here nor there. I just felt like mentioning that after I drove four hours by myself to meet him in the freezing mountains, he wasn’t anywhere near on time. I’m not bitter, promise.

Anyway, when we met, we began changing gear over between our cars when he said, “Where’s your hunting pack?”

“Uhhhh…you don’t have it?”

“No, I don’t have it. Come on, you’re joking. I know it.”

Only, I wasn’t. I really wasn’t. I had left to go hunting for the first time in 13 months and left my pack at home. Granted, I did legitimately think he had it. I thought that was what I remembered us discussing before we left for Texas 12 days prior. But I also legitimately should have checked for it before I left, being this was the one hunting trip I was going on all year.

[I keep saying I’ll have my life together when our kids get bigger. I hope that’s true.]

So, there I was. Setting off on a hunting trip in the snow covered mountains with no hunting pack. No binoculars. No chance of success. Or even survival.

But by golly, I had wine. And I’m pretty sure I voiced that enthusiasm.

Probably so, considering the added events that I realized on the drive down that I had failed to bring a corkscrew for said bottle of wine. But when the guys were late coming in that day to meet up, I had to make a(nother) quick run through a grocery store with a friend (whose husband had been accompanying Brandon for the previous eight days). When I told her how I had packed a bottle of wine but no corkscrew, while we were standing in the middle of a grocery store, she so very smartly asked, “Why don’t you just buy one?”

I’m telling y’all, it was really not my day. Not at all. In fact, basically all I had to offer Brandon when we finally met up was that I had arrived and was willing to camp with him.

The rest of the story only serves to further prove how “not my day” it truly was.

So, Brandon and I made a quick evening look after we got our camp set up that afternoon. As it grew dark, he worked on the fire, and started pressuring me to open my wine bottle. Looking back, this was probably a good move on his part, being as he hadn’t showered in eight days and was forcing me to share a tent with him.

Anyway, I started trying to get it open with my grocery-store purchased corkscrew. But my efforts were to no avail. I had literally just purchased the same bottle a couple of weeks prior, so I thought I was just having some corkscrew operator error issues.

I finally enlisted Brandon’s help. He was a little too eager to get that bottle open for me, in my opinion. Nevertheless, he prevailed. Mainly because he took the foil wrapper off first and make the profound realization the bottle I was desperately trying to open with a corkscrew had a twist top.

I told you. Not my day. (But, I also told you, I swear had just purchased the exact same bottle and it definitely had a cork.)

So, yeah…maybe I’ll try that whole uncovering the top of the bottle method first next time. But the important part of the story is that we indeed got my bottle open, I indeed survived the frigid temperatures, and we indeed have a good friend who loaned my his hunting pack and binoculars so that I could actually hunt after driving all that way.

And it was a good time all around. Especially after we got that bottle open.


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