No Ordinary Jamboree

So there I was, sitting right where I wasn't suppose to be on Friday night.

And there HE was, sitting where he wasn't suppose to be Friday night.

Thank God we were home when we were suppose to be elsewhere. Thank God the sitter wasn't here alone with the kids.

It was 11 pm, an hour I normally sleep. I was looking through etsy-damn etsy and its distracting ways- when I heard a rumble sort of noise and wondered WHAT THE HELL Geoff was doing in the garage.

Rumble, boom. BOOM!!!!!

Does he seriously need to be working in the garage this late when the kids are in bed?

CRASH! BOOM!

I take my eyes off of this cute knit hat with super long ear flaps and fuzzy soft looking yarn that would look so cute on a newborn when I notice Geoff is in his office ACROSS the house from the garage. As in NOT in the garage. As in, NOT making the noise.

"Geoff?" I timidly ask as I walk toward the laundry room. The noise is loud, getting louder. Something in our garage is bigger than a breadbox and I don't want to play 20 questions to find out what that "something" is.

"Geoff, seriously, GET OVER HERE! Something is in our garage!"

Used to my overreactions when seeing something as small as a mouse run across the road, he doesn't move.

The noise got louder.

"Geoff, get over here! Meaning NOW!!!!!!!!!"

He walks over, the noise gets louder, I yell "BRING YOUR GUN!!!!!!!"

Hearing "gun" he walks a little faster, hears the commotion and then runs toward his gun.

Meanwhile I lock the door and push my weight against it, because you know, I'm hardcore like that.

Geoff returns with his gun in hand and I can tell he's nervous. This is no ordinary 'bird got trapped in our garage' noise.

He opens the door slowly, gun leading the way.

And there it was, a black bear sitting on the hood of our jeep like he is always there on a Friday night and what the hell is our problem?

And after 29 years of my life wanting to see a bear, can you guess where my camera was?

In the car. In the garage. With the bear.

True story.