Meatpacking District

Dear Laney,

Your dad went hunting yesterday morning with Cedar's dad, and called us from the top of the mountain on his cell phone to let us know he appreciated the bagel sandwich we had packed for him, and that he had bagged a deer. You know, pretty much the way I imagine Davy Crockett and his wife did things.

I was smart enough this time around to not go inspect the contents of his truck bed, and instead to wait until he had cleaned and brought in the generic-looking segments of deer. At that point, I could pretend that he had just come from a big meat sale at Winn-Dixie.

I didn't intend to participate in this process, called - appropriately enough - "processing," but then I noticed that your dad's system was to put a chunk of meat on a piece of freezer paper, and then wrap it like a present. If there is one thing I LOVE, it's wrapping presents, a.k.a. The Best Part Of Christmas. Also, I love labeling things with a marker. I was able to overcome my squeamishness by pretending I was doing a Martha Stewart craft project.

Despite our impressive-looking final product, your dad and I will not be going into the deer processing business any time soon. To help us figure out exactly what we were wrapping up in those packets, I had to do a Google image search for "Venison Diagram," and tape it to the kitchen cabinet so we could follow along. Again, exactly like Davy Crockett and his wife used to do in the olden days.

To file under "You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up," the whole time your dad and I were in the kitchen working on the deer, you were in the living room watching an episode of Go, Diego, Go about Diego's efforts to rescue a whitetail deer.

Your dad and I felt so dirty. Sorry, Diego. You missed this one.

Love,

Mom