Yes, there is a dead elk in our garage. Brian finally killed his first big game animal. He brought it home late Thursday night and hung it from the ceiling of the garage. (I wonder what our renter living above the garage thought about that.)
And then Brian decided he needed to be a man and cut the elk up himself. Let me tell you how thrilled I was at the prospect of seeing my kitchen turned into a butcher shop and my Kitchen Aid mixer used to grind up 200 lbs. of elk burger...and all this only a few hours before throwing a party in our kitchen (a football party, not a hunting party). Lucky for me (sorry, dear) Brian came down with that stomach bug we've all been dealing with this week (yes, I got it too). Yep, after hacking up the thing in the garage he got too nauseas to finish slicing, grinding, and packaging. So the process came to a halt before it trespassed too heavily into my kitchen. Hooray! I was able to quickly clean things up (with the help of my brother, thanks, Jacob) and get the house ready for company without having to scrub out too much blood.
But now we're stuck with a garage full of dead elk. Brian swears up and down that he'll get it done. And I'm swearing up and down that I won't touch the thing. I don't mind raw meat so much, but 200 lbs. of it? No thanks.
We took some great pictures when the skin was on but the camera lost them and I'm not going to post pictures of, um, the current state of affairs. I don't even want to go in the garage--thank goodness its detached from the house.
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