It’s that time of year … when I get to watch as many chick flicks as I want and plan evening menus that are NOT based on the likes and dislikes of my pickiest eater: Hubs.
Gun season, baby. It rocks.
That’s not to say I don’t miss my spouse when he vanishes into the woods. I do.
And he misses me, as evidenced by his frequent phone calls during his visits to south Arkansas.
For Hubs, absence truly makes the heart grow fonder. Over the years, he’s left many a sweet message on my voice mail during his hunting expeditions.
When he returned last Thursday from hunting, however, he was indignant.
“I left you a message, and you never called back,” he said.
“There was no message,” I insisted.
A few days ago, when I wandered back to the newspaper’s photo department for a chat with Moody Mom, one of Hubs’ fellow photographers said everyone was enjoying Hubs’ hunting stories this year.
I’d already heard the one about the deodorant — (Hubs borrowed my very fragrant Secret, which he blames for scaring off a buck) — but not, apparently, the one about “The Phone Call.”
It seems that Hubs did indeed leave a loving message for me on voice mail. But it wasn’t my voice mail.
You can imagine Staton’s surprise when he listened to a message in which Hubs declared his undying love.
Staton also is a photographer at the newspaper. So he shared the message with the entire photo department, who found it quite hilarious.
One has to wonder if Hubs will ever feel comfortable leaving messages again.
More stories from the deer woods tomorrow!