Because....

People have asked me why I write. Several have mocked it, mocked my topics, my style, my country taste. It’s all good though. Because I don’t care. I write for me and for whoever wants to read it. If you don’t like it, don’t read it and certainly don’t complain about it. I’m not asking for critics who have nothing nice to say.

I write because of imagination. Because I believe everyone has a story and every place has a fascinating history. I write because I know people yearn for entertainment and amusement and knowledge. Because they have for centuries. From the great stadiums where the English flocked to hear Shakespeare’s tragedies and from the time of the original troubadour who told in their songs stories of hero’s from lands afar. Those things haven’t changed much over the years. People haven’t changed and human nature hasn’t either.

 I have a fascinating imagination that I cannot lie about. My thirst for books at a young age took me places outside of the small world in which I had lived and showed my people and places far more fascinating than that of good ol’ Jersey County. I have stories I love to share-I came by the nickname Gabby at a young age and by honest ways- and so I have taken to writing them.

The last few months I have wished I had kept a journal of the previous year of my life. Wrote everything in such detail as it happened everyday as so that I would never forget the life and love I had been given through Jason. But I hadn’t and as I fear the memories will fade I find the words about him hard to come by as tears destroy the pages and the ink that I have put down.

I write because I find there is stories that need to be told, average people who need to be immortalized by pretty words and most importantly because I can escape into the stories I have written. No longer am I a scared little country girl fearing more than anything the night but strong and bold Kyra Summers who had overcome her own demons far better than I could ever hope to do. I become Avaleene Reynolds the moonshine runner tougher than any Duke. Joe Hamlin the hunter who lives a hard man’s life in a hard man’s profession in the treacherous west that Texas knew following the War between the states.

Writing gives me freedom; release from a world of boundaries a world of pain too great for most to handle.   

I feared publishing my work, few knew I wrote or ever wished to become a “writer” known by publication. The amount before that horrible night I could count on my fingers and toes. Most of them knew because of the strength I had in Jason believing in my dreams.

When he died I became center of attention and everyone knew my name, my face, and my heartache. People remember more devastation than they would ever remember the good. More than 2,000 people came through his funeral line at the showing and mourned his death. Many who did not show gave me their condolences. That was many more than who would ever have congratulated us on the wedding we had been quietly planning for.

In Jason’s death I found myself thrust into a center of attention I never wanted to be a part of for any circumstance. And I found myself unable – and unwilling- to write. I still remember, sitting on my bed, where I am right now, and telling a friend I had no idea how to get through this.

He had been perhaps the first person, over two years ago, that I ever told I wanted to be a writer (and most likely the only person who hasn’t read anything I’ve ever written, ever liked my writers page on Facebook or been remotely supportive of me as a writer since publication but whatever- jackass) anyhow... he told me I had to write. Sit down and even if I didn’t write about Jason write about something. Because when I did write about Jason and did put that out there to the world that it would help somebody who had also been cursed by heartache similar to mine.

So I did. I wrote and I sold articles and then published my book if only to prove that he was an arrogant jerk and wrong yet again (because he is always wrong and I am always right). But it helped. I was shocked to discover that I was able to write and able to finally push through on perhaps my only last living dream-being a writer.

Today, three months and two weeks after Jason’s accident there are only three things I find release in. Busting my butt at the gym until I can no longer move, seeing his friends who loved him so greatly and take care of me still the best they can, and writing.

I’ve got a lot of useless stuff to say to the world. Writing lets me put it out to the world and lets you decide if you want to listen.

FFA- Friends Forever and Always

President’s Day week-for four years this week meant everything to me- from my Freshman Greenhand days till my Senior banquet it meant one thing National FFA Week. Future Farmers of America. It meant muddy trucks, fundraiser lunches, blue and gold and country attire days. Even though I hung up my jacket almost a year and a half ago some things haven’t changed.

We were laughed at, for being yes, a favorite mocking and mature nickname, the Future Faggots of America. We were laughed at for our black skirts, our panty hose and heels and our dress scarves and corduroy national blue jackets and being able to recite our Creed from heart.

We were mocked by students and teachers alike for being so serious, we weren’t a real club, we didn’t do anything and we certainly weren’t an athletic club so we had no real standing with most schools and our classes weren’t for “booksmarts” as some teachers had said . Clearly, these people had never even wondered down the CTE (career and technical education) hallway, because we had more real world experience and skills than anyone just playing ball and just hitting the books.

From my most humiliating experience Freshman year in public speaking (first time ever speaking in front of people, Mr. Goetten’s 6^th hour shop class, all boys Juniors and Seniors, horrible flashbacks) to walking across that Illinois State FFA Convention stage to receive my State Degree a month after my high school graduation and everything in between, I lived to serve.

Most people see the FFA for what it is based upon, agriculture, the center for our little (haha) club. But our family is so much more. The Association prides itself on leadership, teamwork, personal growth and being America proud. Our colors are chosen by those are nation chose to live by, our flags fly proudly, our pledge said proudly hands over our hearts and our hearts belong to the America we work to serve and live our lives to feed.

Through my CDE’s (career development event) I learned how to judge livestock on its conformation and its ability to serve us for food, how to judge meat and milk products based on its quality for our intake and nutrition, how to tell apart weeds and seeds, how to run a business and how to run a meeting according to Roberts Rules of Parliamentary Order, and how to give a speech to a room full of people without panicking. I learned how to serve my school, my community, and strangers all through my service to one association.

I went in a bratty kid and came out-well an older kid but a little less a brat- and came out with connections of friends all over the state, friends who have continued their service to agriculture at a political and spokesperson positions. Who as college aged students are across the country and running with the “big boys” and playing key roles in agriculture at the public level and caring for us plain old run of the mill farmers.

Being a FFA member didn’t just meaning being an aggie it meant being a family. FFA doesn’t just mean Future Farmers of America; it means Friends Forever and Always.

Follow Up to the State of the Union

My follow up to the State of the Union Address, that I just finished reading the text of via The New York Times website - http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/13/us/politics/obamas-2013-state-of-the-union-address.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1 – will be short and not-so-sweet. I have been mortally embarrassed and yet not shocked by what Obama reported.

He reported to us nothing that most of the general public did not know. He did not offer valid solutions, truly inspiring and hopefully words as we have come to respect and love from many of our former Presidents. But perhaps people just do not speak in such pretty language to give such a nation strength no more.

Obama did not offer us solutions to our immigration or gun control or many other pressing subjects that we need action from in the highest form of our government. Rather he tooted his own horn about issues that- while hold some or great importance – he has claimed to have “fixed”. The economy, please don’t make me laugh. To many I know firsthand including my household is without a job.

His fix to the healthcare solution. I’m 19 years old and had taken time off from college because I choose to work, had I choose to stay in school I would have been in great debt I’m sure and yet his “joke” of a solution is too expensive, and still doesn’t cover anything for me. For a simple doctors visit I will pay almost 80 dollars, the excludes no medicine, and no tests if needed. Just because my father was injured in a work related accident and put on disability when I was in middle school, and that insurance no longer covered me once I turned 18.  

He did not mention how he or the rest of Washington will handle the 2^nd Amendment debate; although he addressed the situation he did not address a solution. But I won’t be the first to tell you, that they will pry my 2^nd Amendment and my gun out of my cold dead hands.

Obama gave us no hope, and still ended his speech with God bless America. A man who is, to my understanding- not of a religion where he has the right to use those words. A political ploy and a slap across the face for Christians and American’s who believe in one true God. It’s one thing that we allow any religion to be practiced in America – we are the home of the free- and that should be allowed. They want to take God out of my country though that was built by good Christian men- that is something that is just wrong. But to allow the countries “Great Father in Washington” disrespect our religion? Gives me great question to our morals.

What do you think about the State of the Union Address? Did it meet your standards? Or do you find me totally incorrect? Opinions are always respected and welcome.

What Will Obama Say?

In a few hours President Obama will present his State of the Union address. Some people anxiously await what our President will have to say while others aren’t looking forward to it. Many will believe most of what Obama says is utter B.S. some will believe what he says is golden and that he is doing the best job anyone can for the country. Others will be angry and-some-are rooting for his impeachment. (One day I will go into all the reasons why some Democrats, Independents and Republicans would love to see our historic first African American President hit the streets despite his recent re-election.)

There a few things I look forward to hearing with the State of the Union (not in any particular order).

1. The Unemployment Rate- Currently 7.9% (a rise in January, although the economy is showing signs of improvement. Okay??)  

2. Immigration. (Illinois now grants drivers licenses and the like to illegal immigrants. We can’t support our own citizens. Why support illegal immigrants? Let’s see what Obama has to say for that!)

3. This isn’t one I look forward to him addressing although I have read many will - the climate – not a major concern next to some of these other problems.

4. This is my major issue! 2^nd AMENDMENT! This is the big one on the State of the Union I look forward to hearing more about. With Sandy Hook shooting, the ex-police officer on a killing spree and all the other things you have been hearing on mainstream media I look forward to the President explaining how he and his affiliates are going to take away my right to defend my person and my family.

5. The war. As long as soldiers are deployed and are meeting resistance in the combat forms there needs to be concern about our men and women.

6. South Korea and their nuclear testing. Today on the news I learned about South Korea’s third nuclear bomb underground testing. What is America, and their United Nations, going to do about this? This is ridiculous and must be dealt with. If America tends to stay one of the strongest nations- and I pray we do- this will be something that we cannot allow. The nuclear weapons that we launched on Japan during WWII was the first mistake and America cannot allow other nations (including ourselves) have this kind of power over other human beings with such weapons.

                (This brings me around to the second amendment again, we can’t have guns and ammunition to protect ourselves but South Korea can have nuclear weapons! Come on America put on your big boy panties’!)  

Maybe America will get positive answers with completed promises. But mainly we will probably get the run around. No answers. No hope. And a bunch of lies. Either way it will be an entertaining speech.

A Short Rant on Coyote Hunting with GPS

For as long as I can remember I have been hunting coyotes with my grandfather. He had been hunting them with fox hounds since my mother was a young girl and that hadn’t changed by the time I came around. In the years that I can remember hunting we have owned at least seven different dogs. I have loved everyone and enjoyed listening to every dog run.

It’s not about killing the coyotes necessarily, at least not for me. It’s about listening to the dogs run and a good coyote giving chase.

When my grandfather started running dogs there was no such things as tracking collars and dogs ran free and were just expected to return home when they were done or return to where they had been set loose.

Those days were gone by the time I was hunting. Our trackers were (and still are) huge antenna trackers with heavy box bases. For most hunters, gone are those days too. New GPS trackers allow dog owners to track their dogs within the feet and signals don’t bounce of hills and hollers (a serious problem where I’m from) or allow telephone wires to interfere.

But when you are chasing dogs around the countryside and in pickup trucks it cuts out on how much you have to get out of your vehicle. It takes out the guessing game as well, when you have a constant update GPS that keeps telling you where your dogs are heading and exactly where they will come out, it makes hunting a little like cheating.

More than likely if you can tell where your dogs that are running are exactly heading it makes it easy to tell where the dogs prey is.

Perhaps considering that “cheating” is taken out by the fact that I don’t have the resources- a high enough Cabela’s credit card limit or just the ability to let go of close to a grand- it’s a good possibility that everyone who owns the latest technology enjoys it immensely.

GPS makes it easy to catch dogs when it’s time to round up and go home. It also helps to keep them off of main roads and off of properties they aren’t supposed to be on.

Like everything that modern technology is supposed to do, GPS makes things “easier” in life. However hunting isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was easy it wouldn’t be something that most people would enjoy. (Well hunting could just be a wee little bit easier or I could be a lot better!)

 

A Futuristic Illinois

I can’t honestly tell you who came up with the idea to break up the states in the way that they did or how that decided to do it for that matter. I know part of it was geographically. Rivers run this way and that ways, so those are easy boarders. Some of it was by the way the United States acquired the land.

However, I as a young citizen of Illinois see that this is not working. I grew up in a southern part of Illinois, not far from Saint Louis and fifteen minutes from where the Mississippi meets the Illinois River. I’m a country girl by nature and a farmer family by trade.

My state government however is made up majority of people who do not understand my needs. They don’t  understand my need as a lower middle class citizen to protect my home by the Second Amendment. They don’t understand that I don’t want their aide. They don’t understand that I still want to work; I still want to be able to make a living and care for myself and my family.

Maybe my beliefs are old fashioned for Springfield but I have an idea that maybe Washington needs to interfere with.

But first here’s what spawned that idea. I have always been a history buff, always proud of where I came from. I was a United States citizen and I was from the great state of Illinois who gave the world one of the best men Abraham Lincoln (The President, not the Vampire Slayer) and then this questionable yet history book making (only because of Lincoln) man named Obama. I was home to farmers, the world tallest man, and other cool things on a small scale.

By high school, I realized what a joke that was. Politician after politician was being indicted with corruption charges yet nothing was being done. Tried, possibly convicted, short stupid sentence. (Note: I was in high school during the Rod Blagojevich incident).

Finally when I was a senior in high school I got to set down in government class. Ah what a joy Mr. Gracey’s 7:30 a.m. early bird class was. Once you got worked up in government class you were pissed off all day long. And I got worked up a lot.

I remember one day after discussing God only knows what at least one other classmate and myself realized how easy it would be to just “fix” Illinois. Separate Chicago from Illinois.

Two years later, I still believe this is a real possibility. It has been suggested by some of my fellow Illinois citizens we even start a petition.

It’s not that we want to just kick out Chicago. We don’t hate them. We hate the fact that Chicago has the population and the money to have a pull in the Illinois General Assembly.

I’m not Democratic or Republican but General Illinois knowledge dictates that Democrats will, on almost every case have the ruling hand when it comes to the Assembly. But that hasn’t been working. There hasn’t been an even balance enough to get anything accomplished.

America has states for a reason. Because policies that work here in California might sound ridiculous to people in Delaware. That’s the problem in Illinois. What is good for Chicago isn’t good for a good chunk of Illinois. Chicago has a higher population, more varied ethnic groups, crime rates, variations of ideas.

Not that this isn’t a problem among the rest of Illinois just not always in such intense ways. Most of Illinois is still blue collar Americans. Many of which have agriculture based families and business who make their living from the land.

A project that would be high priority in Chicago such as programs to help keep children from gangs would sound ridiculous for most of Illinois because we don’t live with that problem day to day. While to average Chicago people dealing with agriculture problems would sound ridiculous to them.

Yes I understand all states have their rural areas and major cities. But my point is there are so many differences between Chicago and the rest of the state the irreconcilable differences could be cited on the divorce papers. There is no middle ground with Illinois General Assembly. Chicago needs one thing and Illinois needs another.

The best proposal for the new state lines is that everything North of 1-80 be Northern Illinois and everything South be Southern Illinois.

There are too many opportunities that the separation can help fix to go into in such a short time but the ideas the same. Some things just don’t work out.

I find it’s a good idea. Some others will, some more won’t. Just some marriages can’t be saved and must be ended for the good of the couple and the good of the family Illinois and Chicago needs separated for the good of each other and the United States in general.

Feel free to give me your thoughts and ideas.

One Smart Guy

The video I will discuss below will not be found on mainstream media. However it needs shared and its message needs heard. Pass it along.

 I have always believed in the 2^nd Amendment and my right to protect myself as well as participate in the sport of gunned hunting. Just today I safely and legally took to woods and fields to hunt coyotes with my families bolt action .22 Magnum rifle.

With all the gun bashing by Washington, and to be quite frank, other outspoken people who don’t know the facts or the have enough common sense to own a gun safely themselves. But these are probably the people that text and drive and blame Apple and Honda for the crash.

It’s the same concept. Same idea. Guns don’t kill people, dads with pretty daughters do. Well that’s not a good example. But you get the idea. If guns kill people, forks make people fat, cars make people speed, pencils’ misspell words and Washington makes politicians stupid. Well the last one can be debated.

When I saw this video had been shared to my Facebook newsfeed I was intrigued. Of course “Sandy Hook Father Owns Congress” as a title was sure to grab my attention. I’m not a revolutionist I believe the American government despite its current pathetic state is still the greatest in which to live under. But having a good hearted average American tell the rich politicians how we average Joe’s will not be treated is pretty cool in my book.

While the wake of the Sandy Hook Tragedy, and yes lets clear this up right here and right now, there was a tragedy, little innocent children did die and there should be no one even remotely convinced that this is an entire conspiracy theory when little angles were taken to heaven cruelly. (Did the government possibly tweek some things to have the tragedy help their own agendas? Probably but that’s not the point.) Anyways, some people believe that guns should be banned, especially people whose children where in the school that day.

I have lived through some terrible losses but however I could not phantom losing a child especially in that way. Yet, if my child had been killed or in the lock down that day the first thing I would do would most certainly not be handing my guns over to the government. The police are wonderful but it is not possible to protect every man, woman and child every moment of every day. Therefor I would most likely place my guns and ammunition (make note that I currently only own guns of a sporting nature nothing that resembles military or home defense weaponry) where it could be easily accessed so that I could protect my children and they would feel safe.

Applause for Bill Stevens for feeling the same way. Not only does what he state that the politicians have the right to protection why don’t everyone? He mentions how illegal and asinine the legislation to ban guns is as stated by the Constitution. Applause to Bill for standing up for Newtown and the children in it by knowing that lockdowns and 9-1-1 isn’t always enough.

Sometimes you really have to fight fire with fire.

The youtube link to to video is posted below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhXPlCjr0Vw

Pain in Tomorrow

I already warned you, and in case you didn’t read the warning see it now (first blog post), that some things that will come up in this blog might be depressing. This post just might end up that way.

I remember a time when tomorrow was filled with excitement. It wasn’t all that long ago. Just shy of three months now, (God has it really been that long?). When tomorrow meant picking paint colors, turning in loan papers and spending time snuggled up on the couch or in bed watching My Name is Earl and King of the Hill reruns. But that was before November 15^th. Before the accident. Before my life was shattered.

I recall standing by the grave and saying I wanted no more tomorrows. There just would never be a happy day without him. Not tomorrow.

But that was a lot of yesterday’s ago. Too many and yet there are still too many to come. I try not to think of where I’m supposed to be, in a trailer on a nice little lot in Hadley Landing down by Fowler Lake and just off the Illinois River. I try not to think that I wouldn’t be up writing this right now but I would be curled up next to him, engagement ring on my hand. I try not to think about how happy I’m supposed to be.

This weekend while standing in the local bar and having a blue moment a friend wrapped her arm around me and said “You know what I told you. We just think about today and pray for tomorrow.”

It sounds simple enough. Don’t think ahead, as I have been trying so hard not to do, just live for the moment and pray for the next. That’s the only way to get through when you got to dig in your heels and level off with the world.

Things have started to even back out amongst the group of friends that stood by me so supportively in my darkest hours. They are moving on with their lives; new jobs, weddings, and babies. Those things that are supposed to make someone happy but instead just make me sad.

Learning to live and breathe only for today, only for this instance, is perhaps the hardest thing you will ever have to do. Tomorrow is another day, another challenge, another fight. Enjoy the moments in today and be as happy as you can be, because there’s enough pain in tomorrow.

God Made a Farmer

To start off I’ll say I’m a Chevrolet girl but that Dodge had won some significant brownie points last night at the Super Bowl with me. As a grandchild of a farmer, a forever national blue and corn gold jacket wearer and a lifetime believer in the FFA and the American farmer I give kudos to makers of the commercial. “So God Made a Famer” narrated by Paul Harvey is a beautiful speech that touched the hearts and souls of millions of American’s everywhere. Yet some people still find farmers frivolous and are still running their mouths about things they don’t know.

Do people not know without us there is no food before you? That we give life, our all to be worn and tired and broken and never rich just to give your family the needed nutrition to survive? Ridiculous people.

I was shocked and proud to hear the voice of Paul Harvey come across my television as Dodge showed pictures of real farmers working hard to give us all a better life. 2012 was one of the hardest years for farming since the Great Depression. The rainfall levels were that of the dustbowl and our crops withered and died before our eyes. Dust covered our cattle and water had to be pumped to our herds and our precious hay had to be fed almost all summer long when our stock is used to green pastures to meet their needs.

At the end of my life, when my body has failed, I pray that I have served my agricultural community enough that pretty words like these can be used in reference to me. Never has a Super Bowl commercial hit me in the heart the blur my vision the way Dodge did this year. I found myself thankful for Dodge for representing the unsung and un-respected backbone of America.

Paul Harvey, whose speech was originally given at the 1978 Future Farmers of America National Convention took America by storm then as it was delivered in the a Carter area where talk of God was little. Now 35 years later the condition is only worse but still that’s why I’m proud God Made a Farmer.

The pieces of the 1978 speech used in the commercial is below.

And on the eighth day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker." So God made a farmer.

 God said, "I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the field, milk cows again, eat supper, then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board." So God made a farmer.

 God said, "I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt and watch it die, then dry his eyes and say, 'Maybe next year,' I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from an ash tree, shoe a horse with hunk of car tire, who can make a harness out hay wire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. Who, during planting time and harvest season will finish his 40-hour week by Tuesday noon and then, paining from tractor back, put in another 72 hours." So God made the farmer.

God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bales, yet gentle enough to yean lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-comb pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the leg of a meadowlark."

It had to be somebody who'd plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed, and brake, and disk, and plow, and plant, and tie the fleece and strain the milk. Somebody who'd bale a family together with the soft, strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh, and then sigh and then reply with smiling eyes when his son says that he wants to spend his life doing what Dad does. "So God made a farmer."

A Little Tease

I thought I'd post a piece of my lastest work in progress "Killer Joe". Let me know what you think and if you want more!

 

Clint thanked her and tucked the envelope back into his vest pocket and headed for the stairs Joshua on his heels.

“I don’t really want to catch him with his pants down. Shouldn’t we just wait?” Joshua asked. “He’s liable to kill us if we interrupt what he paid for.”

“Chances are Joe isn’t going to come down through the main saloon and I don’t want him sneaking out ...on us,” Clint said even though he himself wasn’t pleased with the prospect.
 

They reached the outside of the door and Clint un-holstered his gun and reached for the door knob.

 

“You stand watch out here.”

Joshua nodded and put his hand on his own piece.
 

Clint turned the door knob and pushed it open. He glanced first at the bed and didn’t see anyone in it.

“What the hell do you want?” he heard Joe say and he swung around in the opposite direction.
 
Clint turned to see a woman standing up in a ceramic tub. She was dripping wet, dark hair falling down her front past her breasts, a Colt piece in her hand aiming it at him.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Clint said and looked away even though the woman herself looked unembarrassed but a woman in her trade probably wasn’t ashamed. “I’m looking for a man named Joe Hamlin. The woman downstairs said he would be in here.”
 

“And what makes you think you haven’t found him?” the woman said and he heard her release her hammer slowly and he turned her see her place her gun back on the side table and retreat to her tub.
Clint gave her a puzzling look.

“No one ever said Joe was a man. It’s a good illusion though Anderson,” the woman said and it started to sink into Clint. Killer Joe Hamlin was a woman, this woman to be exact. “Shocking isn’t it? That one of the most feared men in the area isn’t a man at all?”

My Introduction and Warning

This is not a blog about just one thing. Not about writing, or movies, or music. It’s not about business, or sports or love. It’s a little bit of everything because this blog is about LIFE. Moving Up is about my struggle, my happiness, my fight to enjoy the climb but one day reach the top of the next mountain.

I was the small town girl who loved hunting, fishing, farming, western movies, music and books. I feel in love before my first day of college and was helplessly giving my life to someone. That worked fine for fifteen months, until my grandparents walked into my house with news that would shatter my world. Jason, my everything, was killed in a work accident.

The blog isn’t even entirely about that. Like I said before, this is a blog about life. My open diary, my open portal to the world to share everything I know about life, God, love and pain in hopes that God forbid one day, it might be able to help someone else’s broken heart.

You will find random things will be posted on here. Book reviews, because I should warn you, I’m a writer and author of a book you better read and adore Summer’s Ridge. There will be music reviews and play list suggestions, because I love country music it’s the best medicine for a broken heart, trust me. There will be random stories I want to share but have really nowhere else to publish them.

There will be posts about farming, animal farming included and hunting. I’m an animal lover though, you can’t appreciate the sport of hunting or the profession of farming and not. However if you a save the animal person and think the Second Amendment should go, leave this site now.

I will rant, I will rave, and I will probably tick some people off at some point. If you’re easily offended about health care, social security, politicians and the constitution and have I mentioned my right to bear arms as a lower middle class citizen? If so then ignore this blog too. Respect my beliefs and my 1^st Amendment right to freedom of speech and I’ll respect your right to hate all things our forefathers gave us.

But if you’re a red blooded redneck country folk or someone who shares similar beliefs, we should get along just fine, just fine.

I enjoy entertaining you.

Sincerely,

Kendra Plunkett