Satellite Elk

Wayne here.... and filling in for my everloving wife. I hope each of you will forgive her for having me intrude on you personal, time consuming, word conveying, time of blogging space. Here we go....
Chea recently left me (and not for what most you think she should leave me for:) to go visit Wendy in the beautiful mountains of Flagstaff. Anyway, after work I found myself in an empty house with no girls (girls camp), no wife, and of-course no meal. The later being the only constant:) I then began to search for a manly video to help pass the time while I soaked up the last portion of my gravy coated chicken from El Pollo Fatto. I soon realized that I've seen every video twenty times and the evening entertainment was turning rather bleak.

But then it happened! Over in the corner of my bedroom, in the midst of my overused DVD's of Barney Fife, I found a gift from a full time hunter/brother-in-law. It was an unwrapped DVD of his killings.... I mean hunting expeditons. Mind you, I've never really been a man... I just try to pretend and play the part. But as this story goes.... I spent the next hour watching, learning, and realizing how skilled some of our relatives our. Do each of you realize that the satellite elk are not the ones your supposed to blast? Satellite elk way are too small! NO, YOU MUST SLOWING AND QUIETLY WORK YOUR WAY PAST THEM. It is then and there (if you are lucky) that you will find bull elk that are bigger than houses. If you are so skilled and your hunting trip is successful.... then you too will have these magnificent creatures mounted and growing out of your walls. This should be everyone's goal.
I share this with you not only to bore you, but to tease and help you realize that we have a pretty good guy up North, who is part of a very special family. I hope he realizes that I not only write this to make him laugh, but to also thank him for everything they do for family. Privately and Publicly. Smile my friends.... life is too short not to laugh, give, and in my case... watch a video that makes me feel like Mr. Burns (The Simpsons) without his shirt on. Thanks for pretending to care. I'm sure I'll never write again..... Love and stuff,

Wayne