Butterfly, meet tummy

A few more hours. A few more sleepless, bed-turning hours, and if all goes well, I will set out for the Dark Continent. Africa. The Highveld is where I'm headed, for two full weeks of plains game bow and rifle hunting with Uhuru Safaris, a small, family run outfit. The more I read about hunting the continent, the less I feel I understand. It's not tree stand hunting for deer at the edge of Illinois cornfields, that much even a novice like me has figured out.

This is going to be like nothing I have ever experienced. Imagine, if you will, waking up at the crack of dawn. Stealing a march on sunrise, and heading out into the wild, open country on a beat-up land-rover. Stalking stately Kudu as they glide through the mist. racing to catch up with herds of Blue Wildebeest, or creeping up to the Gemsbok - desert warrior. Alright, I give up - I cannot. It's not registering. I'm going to Africa, I'm going to Africa . Say it again - AF-RI-CA!! The mind reels, and refuses to comprehend the enormity of what's about to happen. My wife notes that I've been rather quiet all evening. Preoccupied to the point where I messed up our ritual Chipotle dinner order. Got the salsa mixed up, put guacamole on the wrong order. This never happens to me. I could barely taste my dinner. I'm thirsty and my heart keeps racing for no real reason.

Hello butterfly, meet tummy.

The wait is killing me.