Why Is There A Dead Warthog In My Garage?

This morning in much anticipation I went out to my garage in search of holiday decorations.  Today is our annual holiday family fun day which includes a trip to the valley to cut our tree down, hanging of the lights, cookie making, and an eggnog (& whisky for the big kids) tasting to finish off the day  We are a bit late this year due to the Chef's lack of days off but I let Catcher play hooky today and Biggie is back to her old smiling crazy pants self.  Good to go. Or so I thought,

Back to the garage...

I stepped into my super messy cluttered garage this morning to find myself face to face with this guy:

and then after further investigation I found this guy:

Ummmmm.  Really Chef?  Really?

Found items for The Greenhouse Tavern

Our garage had become the collecting ground for found items for the new restaurant.  We have some pretty badass antique furnituyre, some floor stuff, a really coool mantle that I found at a garage sale...but we also have a rule.  No scratch that.  I have a rule.  Wait for it.  Wait for it.


That's it.  That's my only rule.  The Chef can do anything else he wants.  He can serve brain, he can make chicken feet, I don't give a damn.  

But taxidermy freaks me out.  Big time.  Not to mention birds, stuffed birds.  Oh shit.

And after all of this, I have yet to find the Christmas lights...