Well, two Sundays ago, the little sign up sheet went around. They needed rolls and salad for the party. I wasn't sure if I was going to go but staring at that blank sheet I felt like there might not be any rolls or salad if I didn't. I signed up for rolls (I wanted my house to smell like rolls and they are a special occasion food at our house.). I don't really take note of the date. Monday rolls around and I am sure I missed it some time the last week, but my faithful neighbor gives me a reminder call. (She is bringing rolls too-copycat) I note Friday at 6:30.
So, 5:30 rolls around and my kids are starved. I give them all a piece of cheese and pray it is enough to hold them over. I leave the house at 6:20 in denial that is will take me that long. I get to an empty parking lot at 6:25. As I circle I spot an open door and 4 cars parked n the back. I walk inside with my rolls in hand. I walk into the gym where a few tables are set up. I am 5 minutes early, after all. I get a strange hello and a, "glad you could make it." There is no food except my rolls on the table. I find the table that is not only all the way in the back, but it is close to an exit. The room has about 10 tables, each one has a picture. I start to look and after the first two are of hunting parties, I start to wonder. The next table was a picture of a young girl holding antlers in one had and a handgun in the other pointed at the head of the deer. I am thinking to myself that I must be in the wrong place, and just as I am about to pack up and leave my neighbor, and more importantly the food starts to show up. My kids are crazy hungry and attack the food. After fixing plates for the kids that need help, and finally getting my plate most of the kids are done and on to desert. All of the food looks a bit iffy. I instantly grabbed one of my rolls, and what I thought was chicken enchiladas, oh and salad. A lady comes to the table and asks my kids what they think about eating bear. Yeah, I know, bear meat. Then it all comes together. The hunting pictures, the not quite right looking meat, the tag and picture next to a crockpot full of meat that says, "This bambi shot by such and such." I am afraid to ask, but quite curious. Those enchiladas I had been eating-pheasant. The mystery noodle dish I eat after Hazel put it on her plate and then decided she didn't want it-bear. The chili I ate (just the beans because any meat in chili kind of grosses me out)-venison. Then it happens. The feeling of disgust passes through my body, and I am suddenly alive. I just ate some bear meat. That's right Tom (who had soup), I had bear meat. I decide I am going to try it all. The second time I went to the table there were more choices and they were clearly labeled now. I at deer-not my thing, elk-I liked it, and bear-my favorite of the three, but it might have just been seasoned better. I couldn't help but think how this would never happen in Las Vegas. I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I tried to steal a photo copied picture of one of the kids shooting a deer for proof, but I turned my back or a minute and my table was clear.