A drop in the bucket (list).

Naturally, the “best week ever” was followed by one that was less than inspired at best. Seth took off Wednesday for his first hunting trip of the season, with the Injured Military Wildlife Project of ND. It was his first trip home since he got blown up, and his first trip of the season, and he was beyond excited. I’m generally a rabid supporter of couples having time apart to pursue separate hobbies and goals and just get some alone time, but the timing of this one was all off. I battled moral outrage over the fact that I hadn’t gotten to do anything (other than the wedding circuit) with Seth since last summer, and now as soon as he was back on his feet he was off on adventures while I stayed home to work and battle traffic. The week, as far as marital bliss was concerned anyway, was doomed from the start.

I count among my many flaws a shamefully strong aversion to anyone having fun without me, and this was no different. It was compounded by the fact that I, possessed of a deep wanderlust and a miles-long bucket-list, had not been able to take a real vacation in a year. It was starting to chafe a bit. A firm devotee of the bucket list, I had elicited Seth’s on a dinner date more than a year ago, and knew that killing a mule deer in North Dakota was high on his. He got one his first night of the trip, in velvet no less. I still haven’t heard the details, but it seems that it was epic, and he had the rest of the week to bum around, shoot prairie dogs, and hang out with his parents, who made the long drive to Dickinson to visit him in his hunting cabin. I was thrilled for him, but… well, just “but.” He contacted me only a couple of times, and it was with the brevity and interest level of someone who has better things to do. I tried to tell myself that I’m sure I’m the same way when I’m off adventuring, but the “’who’s counting,’ my foot?” voice in the back of my head reminded me that it had been so long he wouldn’t know.

Still, the man did deserve a vacation more than just about anyone I know, and I tried to be excited for him. I was excited that he got a bucket list item checked off, and that Tony and Jayne got to spend time hanging out with him in their home state. And, because I was starting to hate my own internal snarling, I bought tickets to Vancouver Island for the long weekend of his next hunting trip, and made plans with Missy to take a road trip to Tofino and stay in a yurt. Things were looking up.

Seth got home Sunday night, and Leslye and I were on the couch nursing sunburns and sore muscles from our triathlon and alternating between Miller Lites and powerade. He was beat too (having endured a long trip which involved TSA confiscating his properly-cased rifle), and we grilled dinner and watched football and were in bed by ten. There was no reason to dwell on our “off” week. We figure we’re in this for the long haul, and are going to have those sometimes. We tacitly agreed that we’d do better this week, and that we’d sleep in and start Monday off right. And so we did.

Here's to the ebb and flow of life, and relationships. And the new velvety antlers that will soon make an appearance in our man cave. Look out, wildlife. Seth the Hunter is back!