Look! It’s a Deer Dildo!

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Deer whaaaaa??  photo credit

How well do we know one another?  Well enough for me to say deer dildo? Probably not. But this is essentially social  media, and I’m known for social media oversharing, so, HAPPY EFFIN’ NEW YEAR.  Here I come.

To ME (and my husband and kids and mother-in-law and brother-in-law) it’s not a scandalous term.  It’s more adjective than noun (though I still would NOT encourage you to google it):

He hasn’t slept in 72 hours.  He’s deer dildo.  
She needs more fiber in her diet.  She’s deer dildo.
He shouldn’t have had those 12 diet cokes.  He’s deer dildo.  (I’m looking at you, POTUS)
It’s Holt-speak.  For going bananas.  Or losing one’s marbles or being off one’s rocker.
Of course, there’s a story behind it, which you will now be subjected to.
Something like 30 years ago (this would be a really rough estimate– and if I were to ask the three people I know who were there, I’d likely get three different answers), long before I was in the picture; my husband went on a road trip with his mom and brother. Also along for the ride were mom’s boyfriend and brother’s girlfriend.  Stops on the journey included Disneyland, White Sands National Monument, Carlsbad Caverns, and the Grand Canyon.
At least that’s what I’m told.  It is possible that multiple trips have combined into one over the decades.  Details of the entire endeavor vary greatly based upon who you talk to.  I’m not judging, because really, I can’t remember yesterday, let alone non-salient details from 30 years ago.
My husband’s version of the tale is that while visiting White Sands National Monument, after multiple days of traveling together and enduring teenage attitude and familial bickering and less than stellar dietary choices and lots of less than pleasant smells and a HELLUVA lot of proximity, my MIL saw a muffler laying on the side of the road and began laughing maniacally.  No one quite knew what was so damn funny about a muffler, and some became a little concerned about mom’s psychological well being.  But, once she got her laughter under control, she pointed at the muffler and said, “Look, it’s a DEER DILDO.”  Insert more maniacal laughter here.
When folks who were there tell the tale, they don’t include the italicized details from the previous paragraph.  I suppose those would be artistic license on by part, based upon my own experience of traveling with my family.
And yes, I use it too much, but I urge you to recall the scene from the money pit.
Tired.  Done.  Over it.  Done with the bull shit.  Punchy.  Bananas, bonkers, completely off rocker, and unable to find even one single marble.
I’m guessing the deer dildo episode was not part of the scheduled itinerary.  That guess is also based upon my own experiences of travel with my family.
As I draft this, I’m on a plane to New Mexico, where we’ll be visiting White Sands.  Which may or may not have been the site of the infamous deer dildo incident (other versions of the story place it in Alamosa or the Great Sand Dunes of Colorado).  Per usual, I have all sorts of Rockwellian visions of what a perfect family vacation we’re going to have.  Just the four of us.  Seeing beautiful sights.  Getting out of the Minnesota sub zero temps.  Exuding blissful laughter as we sled down the sand dunes.  Simultaneously being in awe of the Carlsbad caverns. Uninterrupted family dinners.  Long meaningful chats about the meaning of life.  Family discussions of Sherman Alexie’s memoir.  A family book club, if you will, where we’ve all read and appreciated a book and are eager to talk to one another about it.  Maybe some board games at night.  Family sing-alongs as we cover lots of miles between our scheduled stops.  And probably a campfire with kumbaya.  Why the hell not?
In reality, if we’re dealing on a spectrum with my Rockwellian version on one end and deer dildo on the other, I’m cautiously optimistic that noise canceling headphones and sertraline will keep me just this side of deer dildo.  Really, though, who knows?  And what the hell does it even matter?
We’ll be together.  Temps will be well above zero.  We’ll laugh.  We’ll yell at one another (probably more of that than laughter).  We’ll make memories.  And perhaps come up with a better descriptor than deer dildo.
Just kidding.  There could never be a better descriptor than deer dildo.