The camo pajama game


“Heaven forbid! When are you going to take off those pajamas so I can wash them?”
My Sweet Al wears his favorite camouflage pajama bottoms all year-round — to take out the trash, work in the garage, even to work on the cars. But at this time of year, he just won’t take them off. Is this what it means, “Be instant in season and out of season?”
If you’re a hunter, apparently this is how things are. A hunter is always ready to spot a deer or elk, even if only wearing concealing flannel. Not yet hunting season? No issue. For my Sweet Al, always be prepared.
He and our son were on the way to the dump with a load of stuff. I said, “You can’t go to the dump wearing your pajamas, what if someone sees you?”
“It’s OK, it’s just the dump. Besides, I may see some game.”
When did we get so old that it doesn’t matter what we wear and have complete confidence in why? For my Sweet Al, it’s all OK. He is dressing for the deer. Evidently, when you live in wildlife country and even if you just have to pop into town, anything in camouflage print is appropriate attire.
Unfortunately, Al’s obsession is not limited to just what he wears. I have had to restrict him from driving because he is too preoccupied looking for deer, turkey or whatever is in season. No problem there and nothing he can’t justify. As long as he is dressed in his gear — or pajamas — he is focused with his eye on the prize.
Al doesn’t hunt like he used to, but it doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it. Last year, our son-in-law called and offered to take him hunting. My Sweet Al cleaned his gun and sharpened his knife. He had a wild look in his eyes, a smile on his face and his trigger finger was twitching. He had hunting fever.
Like a schoolboy going on his first date, he was up all night trying on his camouflage clothes. And, of course, he had on his camouflage pajamas. Apparently, there is a hunter’s code. A hunter has to look the part, even if he doesn’t shoot his gun.
He is a hunter and he will die a hunter. If he wants to wear his pajamas to the dump, I guess it’s fine. At the end of the day, does it really matter? In between deer and elk stories, I get to hear something I could never see: my Sweet Al’s happy heartbeat.
Final brushstroke: We live in a place where we see wildlife every time we pull out of our driveway. It is also hunting season. Don’t sweat the fever that comes with it as it doesn’t last forever. So, whether your man is clad in camo or flannel, give him a sugar pill and indulge his crypsis ways. Just be thankful that he asks you how he looks before he leaves the house. Things could be so much worse.