Rebuild from Depression Blog

[Note: I light of some reflective blog posts on grief, penance, and more penance, I need you to submit more entries to our Pest or Dinner? contest. Besides, you are running out of time. The deadline is Saturday.]

Last weekend Sander and I attended the St. Patrick's Day Dinner hosted by the Hot Springs Capineros. You never know who you're going to meet at these cozy community dinners. Last week we met Char.

Char overheard me talking to Postmaster Dean. I was discussing his possible entry of a "skunk" in the "Pest or Dinner?" contest.

"Is she serious?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Dean replied.

We squeezed in between them and ate sauerkraut as we discussed hunting, jury duty, and fibromyalgia. The hunting was a much more likely topic of discussion than was fibromyalgia, up here on the edge of the Sequoia National Forest. Char was quite conversant and it turns out she's a moderator on this fibromyalgia website.

Pest

But the conversation meandered and we found ourselves back on the topic of hunting.

"I have a bear on the property that is driving me crazy!"

"Char! That's it! That's your pest entry!" and I began to take dictations.

"The bear is definitely a pest. It drags the garbage around and poops in the yard."

Char described the bear as reddish, 350 pounds, and six years old. Apparently, someone is a bear expert because I wouldn't be able to begin determining the age of a bear. Perhaps it has been pesky since its younger days.

"There are two black bears up there that raise hell too."

Dinner

We had already determined that her husband was a hunter, so I asked the obvious question: "Are you going to barbecue it?"

"I hadn't thought of that."

We began to map a strategy. I recommended they call Dave, a local hunter so rugged that he's in a category to himself.

I emphasized that they should call me when the hunt is on. I hear that bear tastes a lot like beef, just a bit sweeter. It is also officially on the list of depression buster foods because of its vitamin and mineral content.

As a result of the depression buster food list, it has become a little fantasy of mine that I go bear hunting in the forest one of these winters. I keep it to myself for the most part these days because last time I mentioned it, my husband Sander said "absolutely not!"

My plan is to get into a bit better shape so that I can convince Sander that I can outrun rugged man Dave. That might just do it.