One would assume after reading my post about the coveted sheep head that lives in my kitchen, that if “said sheep head” were to miraculously go away I would be ok with it. Some might even say ecstatic (probably as ecstatic as the day the beer fridge finally moved into the garage).
Well my friends, my sheep head dreams have come true.
The only sad part of this story is that I had to actually touch the coveted head as it came down. And if there’s anything worse than having those eyeballs staring at me all day, it’s touching them. But I did it for the greater good of my wall.
Hoorah Hoorah, right?
Of course! But…there’s more to this story. You don’t think The Hubs would just willingly take el Sheepo down for no good reason do you (FYI: a ranting post from the wife is apparently not a good reason).
I’d like to focus your attention to the behemoth that now lives on the east wall of my kitchen.
Allow me to introduce you to Monsieur Big. (An affectionate play-on-words with Mr. Big from SATC. Except a whole lot more redneck. And my Monsieur Big will most certainly not be building me a custom shoe closet or be able to rescue me from Paris anytime soon).
But don’t let that fool you because obviously I have my own “Big” problems to worry about.
I mean, look at this thing. LOOK. AT. IT.
It’s HUGE. It’s extending into the window area above because it’s so big. It’s overpowering the previously thought more-than-ample-space provided. Basically, it’s the new head of my dinner table – praytell – do I make a place setting for Monsieur? Because it’s not going away. Like, ever.
I know I said that about the coveted sheep and trust me; if I had said that Monsieur could be neighbors to el Sheepo, we’d be well on our way to looking like the next “Rocky Mountain Visitor Center” or worse yet, local taxidermist. Nevertheless, I know The Hubs was less than thrilled with my idea of a compromise, which went something like this: “If you want to hang the rack
in the mother-loving kitchen of all places, you have to take the sheep down.”
Pause. I’m not sure why the Sheep is Mexican and the Elk is French. It just turned out that way. But I think it has a nice ring to it. Now we just need a Canadian Antelope and we’re all set. Just kidding Hubs.
Again. I get it. Really. I do. Even an untrained eye could probably see that this is a big bull. Any hunter would (and should) be proud of such a harvest. And the cherry on top of this already gigantic sundae? The Hubs got it during archery season. You know, with a bow and arrow? All Robin Hood style. It’s not like you can shoot across a ridge and kill something with a bow and arrow, you need to be close. Like under 40 yards close. Do you realize how hard that is? To essentially sneak up on an animal (that has senses a million times better than you), call it in (lure it towards you) and wait (with your bow drawn) until it’s close enough that you can probably hear it breathing in order to get a good and ethical shot?
Combine this with the fact that The Hubs has been hunting since he was knee-high to a .30-06 (a rifle…30 aught six for those non hunting wives), and bow hunting for at least the last six years. And this is the biggest elk he’s ever taken.
So I get that it’s a big deal. I mean look at that thing! I get it until I’m blue in the face.
That doesn’t mean I have to like living with the heads he brings home.
Because I’m still not sure where elk racks and sheep heads fit into my decorating style. Truth is…they really don’t. But I’m learning to live with the fact that regardless of whether they fit into my style, they will be a part of it. Forever. I guarantee you The Hubs and I will be 90 years old moving into an Assisted Living home and he’ll be all….
Hubs: “So where does the sheep head go in our new digs?”
Me: “Are you kidding me? There’s no room for the head! No more sheep! Give it up! Besides, I’ve spent the last 50 years with those bowling ball eyes staring at me and there’s just no room anymore!”
Hubs: “Damn it, do you realize how hard it is to get a sheep tag in Montana?! It’s a coveted thing! If the sheep goes, I go.”
Sigh. You know it’s true. So we’ll be two 90 year-olds lying side-by-side in twin beds watching Soap Operas all day with el Sheepo hanging above The Hubs bed and Monsieur Big above mine. I can see it now.
So…I guess I’ll just take what I can get. And by “get” I mean “taking the sheep down.” In reality I didn’t really gain much here other than that. Do I like the rack in its current location? No. Do I think it’s totally asinine? Uh huh. But do I think the rack can have a home someday in a future house? Yes…in the appropriate location.
Oh, and I can just hear all of you nice wives out there: “shouldn’t The Hubs get some say in what goes on the walls of our house!?” Well folks, that’s a tricky one. Because 50% the material he’s brought to the table so far has had eyeballs. In my book that’s grounds for disqualification.
For now though, you can picture me doing a short-lived happy dance in my kitchen with no one…not even el Sheepo….there to witness it.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ll start to feel lonely….