The last few dates of our kitchen calendar have been inked with, 'you shall sleep alone.'
Meaning me. She recently broke the news she plans to drive her mother to Atlanta for a medical procedure and afterwards on to South Carolina for our nephew's wedding.
Early this evening she asked if I'd please attend.
Me, attend a wedding. Now that's funny.
I don't do weddings, nor funerals. I attend rifle and pistol ranges, campfires, fishing holes, and any campsite with an old iron pot hung over a fire. I also attend, and will sign the guest book, to any gunshow. If hard pressed I'll attend county fairs, but only if it has a farm animal exhibit. Chickens and cows are cool. I have also been known to attend church, my granddaughter's school Christmas play, and boxing matches. But that's about it. I don't do crowds filled with poodle walkers and especially those known to attract metrosexuals.
Our group meets next week at the shop and I'm sure I can recruit a few, if not all, to attend an early September range session. Perhaps make it a full day with the hours afterwards spent around a campfire with a skillet of bacon and a big pot of hot coffee and maybe even a good cigar.
Not sure though...a couple of 'em have been known to attend weddings and such silliness. One or two even wear those boy scout style shorts in public. This younger generation, I tell 'ya...
My friend and fellow group member, Senior has plans to mow the range grass and weeds to a manageable level. I've agreed to lend a hand as he's kinda busy these days with his late father's estate. We'll see.
Duke will be present on the firing line. He'll of course bring along his wonderful and heavy range bag filled with various morsels. I always set my gear close to Duke's. We're buddies, he and I. He's a sucker for fresh homemade peanut butter cookies. If you place a paper plate filled with the aforementioned goodness, on the bench, he gets very distracted and will often step a foot or so away from his range bag. Just saying....I baked a batch tonight and will whip out another the night before we gather to burn powder.
I should also remind myself to not forget the Tannerite.
Weddings are for chumps.