My Noxer hubby decided to take one last camping trip this past weekend up to McCall, Idaho. He planned several hikes and I asked him to pull all but one of my McCall boxes for some serious winter maintenance. Because of the snow in McCall most of the boxes become unavailable and it was either leave them till spring or bring them home before the first dusting. Since he was going to be camping very close to the trails he agreed to pull the boxes for me.
Now I will say at this point in my retelling of his adventures that he is sometimes a good sport about my Letterboxing addiction (oh, I mean hobby). But many times he gets wound up with negative juju about my boxing needs. We have struck a delicate balance between what he is willing to help with (put up with) and what he can’t control rolling his eyes over.
Being a relatively good sport this weekend (I was thrilled) I printed him clues to 12 boxes that I needed him to bring home from McCall. Of the 12 I mentioned that a couple had been reported missing but asked if he would give it the old college try and take a look for them anyway just in case a less experienced boxer just happened to miss locating my treasures.
He just so happened to be looking for the last box that he had on the list. The box was reported as missing but he was willing to give it his all to ensure that no box was left behind accidentally. He reached in one end of the log (with gloves on I might add) and turned up empty handed. He went around to the opposite side of the log and repeated the process. Thinking that maybe one more try (from the original clue instructions) he would ensure that the box was indeed missing. He returned back to the other end of the log and reached in again to root around one last time. WHAM! All of a sudden he realized there was a painful sharp pinch in his posterior. And then immediately WHAM again - another sharp pinch. He bolted up thinking that maybe a snake had bitten his bottom from behind as he was bending over on his hands and knees while reaching into the log. Upon further inspection he realized that he had some sleepy bees on his gloves when he pulled his hands back out and determined that he had actually disturbed a large bee’s nest. The bees appeared to be sluggish in the cold morning air but not so sluggish that they didn’t follow him from one end of the log to the other and attack. Oh, my goodness!
Now I realize that this is not funny in the least. But, as he told me the story and then showed me the damage by dropping his shorts and displaying 4 bright red welts on his bottom I just could not stop the giggles. I know it is just awful for me to laugh but I could not help it. I told him that it was because of all the bad karma that he had expressed over the years about Letterboxing that it was finally letterboxing revenge coming back to bite him in the ass. Yes, I know I am so bad. Now every time I see him scratching his itchy bee stings on his bottom I get the giggles and have to look away. May, I am just going to pay the price for this one day. Someone stop me now!
Anyway I have to say he was an amazing sport about the injury considering his total lack of love for Letterboxing. I doubt I will get him back on the trail any time soon but at least we know in a pinch that he was willing to go the extra mile and then some to ensure that no box was left “behind!”I do apologize for the lack of injury pictures. The one above was from one of his recent hikes. I just can’t understand why he was not willing to let me photograph his letterboxing injuries for the artistic sake of my blog. Can you hear me giggling again? Oh, I am so bad – I just can’t help myself!