Full Disclosure...or another Confession

I'm so not a politically correct PETA lover, Green Peacer, or Hippie Doobie Smokin' Flower Power believer either. (Although, I really am a Tree Hugger if that helps.)

Just thought you should know all this before the Political Drums start vibrating in my ears. I'm liable to put my foot in my mouth a time or two, cause a ruckus in the comment section, have to apologize a few times for my behavior or attitude, or God Forbid vow my undying love of this great country we are blessed to call home.

Just thought you should know this about me beforehand.

That. And FIL sent this picture to me today to remind me of my past...Yes, that's me 20 years ago. Nature Killer. Which of course led my brain down the whole PETA, Green Peace lane.

And made me miss Idaho.

How do you like my Coors Light hat? I wasn't even legal yet. 20ish if I recall correctly. Big Shooter was away at college. I'd just had all four wisdom teeth pulled and it was Opening Weekend of Hunting Season. I told my future FIL, "No. So sorry. I have dry sockets. I can't go this year." That was back before cell phones. So thirteen minutes later when I called back and couldn't reach him or Big Shooter's momma (Who should be there. She didn't partake in the bloodletting.) to tell them I'd been taking pain meds and didn't know what I was saying because, "Oh course I was going! Miss out on getting up at 4am, drinking coffee with a bunch of Good Ole Boys while they made our game plan, hiking up and down mountains, always riding in middle b/c my legs were shortest so there was room for the gear shifting required when gunning up a steep, treacherous path on the side of a sheer cliff? No way am I missing out!" I freaked. Had they really left without me? I packed for a hunting weekend in under 14 seconds and arrived at their house approximately 4 minutes later than that. Therefore, I cannot accept responsibility for the hat, hair, giant shirt or anything else really. I think the only thing I put in my little Chevy Chevette (yes, really) was my rifle, ammunition and my boots. Seriously. What else could a girl possibly need?

To my girl readers: Yes, it's real. Yes, I shot it. No, I did not gut it. There were always too many Good Ole Boys who worried I'd knick the wrong thing. And, trust me, you don't want to knick the wrong thing. Eeewww.

To my guy readers: Yes, I know it's not a real buck. I found those antlers while hiking up over yet another ridge. And why yes, she is as big or bigger than your average white tail down here. Thankyouverymuch.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Wow. Your family still welcomed me after all my silly antics...I'm not sure if that's meant as a compliment for them or sympathy.