Lounge lazily in front of the Grizzly all morning while hubby disassembles the venison from the bones.
Disappear from the house for 3 hours while hubby first grinds the venison, then shops for spices.
Wear out all the children playing “Dog Pile of Love!” Game until all giggles are out of them. Put them all to bed.
Begin measuring spices, mixing, bagging and labeling different sausage recipes. One by one, older children creep out of bed begging to “help” with sausage making. Conversation degrades into imitations of drunken, belligerent sweat shop owner and Dr. Who, leaving all of us laughing so loudly we threaten to waken FlyingBoy.
Fall into bed exhausted, swearing to each other that we won’t leave sausage making until the last day of hunting vacation ever again, knowing full well that it is one of our favorite family traditions.