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Where the Field Mouse Scurries.

You know there is a story behind that title.

But first. After Stephen caught some trout, it was up to me to cook it.

~3camp14

I love the taste of trout. I do not like the bones. I come from a very wonderful family of fishermen. My father, grandfather, father-in-law, and husband have always provided me with fabulous boneless fillets of fish to eat. My earliest memories of eating fried fish include a plate with just fries and ketchup. As I started on the fries, small pieces of boneless bites would miraculously appear on my plate. And well, not much has changed in 30 something years other than I do pick out my own fillets now.

However, with trout. It’s a whole other story and I got tired of choking on bones. I ate a couple of s’mores and went to bed still hungry.

There was a little excitement in the tent tonight. Stephen was getting washed up and thought he saw a mouse run down the side of the tent. He said “I just saw a mouse run down the side of the tent”. Keep in mind, I’m already snuggled down in the sleeping bag, reading a kindle book. I have to pat myself on the back for not girl screaming and flinging stuff everywhere trying to escape. I did what any perfectly normal woman would do. Curled in a ball in the middle of the bed with my hands over my head.

Stephen asked me how would I handle it if he couldn’t “catch and release” it back to the grass and had to resort to other measures. “I’ve never been through a possible mouse killing with you. How are you going to deal?” I then ran out of the tent. No way. But then I felt bad leaving him alone and by golly, I’m a grown woman. We lifted the air mattress, looked through suitcases and bags and pretty much took everything out of the tent. No mouse. On one hand I felt better, but on the other hand, what if we missed him and he’s hiding somewhere??

I slept in the middle of the air mattress with all appendages under the bag. No chance for a midnight nibble from Mickey. Ew.

Today,  we pack up for Telluride!

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