A (sort of) Newbie Mistake

George and Holli came to visit from South Carolina last week. They brought along a huge batch of homemade southern gumbo for my birthday party. I've never had the real stuff before. It was incredible. It had okra, shrimp and blue crab in it with just the right amount of heat. Yum!

Unlike Dani's stay, where it rained sideways for a solid week, George and Holli enjoyed great weather with uninterrupted sunshine and temperatures in the 70's (20's for us Canadians). That's hot for southwest Alaska.

While they were here, we collected quite a bit of garbage. We would have disposed of it but our local landfill has decided to set its own hours. They're open whenever they want to be, which seems like never. If we happen to drive by and see that it's open, we race home, collect our garbage and drop it off because we never know when it'll be open again.

So our garbage gently baked in our nice warm arctic entrance for about four days. The shrimp, crab and salmon contained within developed a pungent funk. It was starting to get embarrassing and I worried about what Hunter's friends were thinking about my ability to keep a clean house.

So I put the trash in the back of the truck so that the house wouldn't stink and figured I'd drive it down to the dump after dinner on the off chance that someone would be there. If someone wasn't there, I debated breaking into the dump and leaving money under the office door.

But I forgot about it. Completely.

I went to bed that night without a hint of trash on my mind. The next morning happened to be the morning that George and Holli were leaving. We brought their luggage downstairs and were about to load it in the truck when we noticed that one of the windows to the truck canopy was no longer present. The garbage bags that were once piled high in the back of the truck were also conspicuously missing.

That's when we noticed the claw marks running down the side of the truck. By the looks of things, the two bears that are inhabiting our homestead decided to squeeze themselves into the back of the truck and enjoy a garbage fest. The back of the truck was trashed, literally.

Not to worry. Holli and I took a trap shooting class last week and I can now work a shotgun. Hunter and I picked up rubber bullets and instructions on how to use them from Fish & Game so that we're prepared in case our ursine friends decide to make a comeback.

Be one with the gun is what I learned in shooting class.

Didn't think I'd be using that knowledge to shoot a bear in the a**

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