If you are a man and you stand back and be objective - hard to do - sometimes you just have to marvel at how our internal emotional machinery works. I have no doubt in my mind that not one, not one single wife out there really understands why ten of us guys are giddy with the prospect of driving fifty miles out into the cold harsh desert, miles from no where, set up a camp where we are almost guaranteed of freezing and chase little quail through the desert. Up and down through hill and dale.
My friend Charlie wondered if the recent rain would scatter the birds away from their natural water sources. I looked at him in wonder. "Charlie," I said, "do you really think we're going out there to hunt?"
Witness the last few days. e-mails flying back and forth. Phone calls, then another and another. Who is bringing what? Do we deep fry the turkey on Thursday night or Friday night. Is one turkey big enough for ten guys. How much Velveeta is needed to feed ten guys Carol's special goulash? Who's got lunch. Charlie wonders how much bacon is needed. Brent says he's got all the paper plates etc. Jim's bringing lunch up Thursday. And on it goes.
We're like kids in a candy store. Ain't men nuts?
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