Nothing says redneck like shooting raccoons out of a tree. Not that I care what anyone thinks anymore at my age, but I've tried to avoid the housecoat and curlers in the front yard and listening to country western songs because it's just never been my thing really. I've caved to the new country songs because the lyrics are just too funny to pass up. I mean let's face it. How can you not get sucked in to a song that goes,
"Son of a gun she's fun to handle, and she packs a punch like a roman candle. She's a pack of black cats in a red paper wrapper, My little darlin' is a fire cracker......"~Josh Turner
or
"I could go for a tipsy tailgate kiss, Baby tast the moonshinin' off of your lips, I wanna see that want ya smile, Still got me hooded been hooked for awhile. If you got a bottle you ain't opened yet, And an empty spot beside ya in ya bed, If you got some room for a little regret, Let me know girl I've already left...." ~Cole Swindell
It's just too good too pass up and I end up talking with a southern drawl with my kids who think my country girl impressions are hilarious.
I usually make it a point to live life to the fullest because well, I had cancer. AND, you never know who's gonna throw you under a bus. Life is too short for just one music genre. Although....I have spent the last umpteen weeks feeling sorry for myself. Why? because I chose to. Life is about choice and if you choose to sit on your ass and be a speed bump, well, you might as well own it. I only have myself to blame, and if I choose to be a speed bump, well dammit, I'm gonna be a damn good one. Sometimes you just have to go to the bottom of the barrel before you can bubble up to the top. I think part of my angst was related to the fact that all good things come to an end, including summer. Having spent the summer of 2015 on the Pro Leisure Tour, there is a certain depression that accompanies reality and responsibility. My kids are back to school with an insane soccer schedule. My oldest daughter has thrown Middle School volleyball into the mix just to make me completely insane as if her "A.P" Algebra class and volunteering for the school field trip isn't enough. In the meantime, I picked up a job at a local Physical Therapy clinic to help out a friend. My husband is back on the road and life has settled back into it's degree of "normalcy" if you can ever call our life normal. And I picked up a distraction over the summer that creeps into my psyche from time to time and railroads my productivity.
Last night, the hubs and I had some conversation time. 3 raccoons were treed in our front yard at the ungodly hour of bedtime causing our cats to meow incessantly and the dog to be a hyperactive nightmare. Nobody was going to get any sleep with these three hooligans so close to the watering hole. Chalk it up to the fact that our kids keep forgetting to feed our animals in the morning because we are running out the door to get to school since everyone's alarm is set to a different time zone and nobody's internal clock is set to anything. Given the opportunity, we'd all sleep until 3, and every morning it's a scramble to not be last in the car. But I digress....
So no shit, there we were, getting our California redneck on by shooting raccoons out of a tree in the dark (because you just can't make this shit up). I tell my husband I'm depressed due to the fact that I can no longer conform to a society of ignorance, a bunch of caddy bitches who insist on dress coding my daughters for EVERY possible infraction, and a bunch of soccer idiots who insist on scheduling 2 and 3 games in a day on the weekends because no one else has anything better to do with their weekend with their ski boat inconveniently placed in storage.
My husband asks me to point a flashlight up in the tree. I am pessimistic that my husband is going to hit anything in the dark.
"How depressed are you?" he asks.
"Depressed enough to give your mother custody," I chide.
He fires a round into the darkness.
"That bad?"
"Yep, the Pro Leisure Tour ruined me."
Another round. He thinks he hit one. I am skeptical.
"Then don't come off," he says.
"Whaddya mean?" I ask.
"Stay on tour. Plan some trips around the soccer schedule. Fall is the best time of the year anyway."
I am flabbergasted by this revelation. Really? I can keep playing? I hadn't really thought of extending the tour but it sounded great to me.
POP! He fires another round into the darkness. Suddenly, we hear branches breaking and finally, THUD! A raccoon hits the deck. I am astounded. My husband beams with pride.
Now for all you animal lovers, don't get all righteous on me about raccoons. They are vicious. There is a serious overpopulation of them in our area, being near a river and they wreak havoc on garbage cans, feeding bowls and small animals. We have had an unbelievable epidemic of raccoons. We've tried trapping and relocating and it seems like they always find their way back to our house, hole up under our porch and terrorize anything bigger than a small dog. Raccoons, possums and skunks all fighting for real estate at our house puts the chaos into an already chaotic life. I don't need a screechfest everynight because all the forest critters are vying for the best sleeping spot. Fewer raccoons will not result in extinction and a quick death is best anyway rather than dying a slow death of starvation and forest fire smoke . If there were enough foxes and coyotes to take care of the problem, I'd be reluctant to shoot them out of a tree, but even the foxes and the coyotes are afraid of the raccoons. They are a menace.
5 more rounds into the darkness and still nothing. Instead, the remaining two scramble for higher branches. I'm really thinking these raccoons are not coming out of this tree tonight.
"So where's your next destination?" my husband asks.
I'm thinking somewhere warm. Texas? Grand Canyon? Moab? Zion? But it might be nice to depart the drought for a bit. Seattle? BC? There's also the issue of funding. I used my grocery budget to fund a couple of trips, and the Rogue adventures took their toll in food, gas, and Dutch Brothers coffee drinks. I need to settle at home for a bit to catch up on finances. However, I'm pretty stoked on the possibilities and the fact that the husband threw it out there makes it that much sweeter.
BAM! More branches breaking, wood pieces coming down into my eye while I'm looking up with the flashlight trying to get a glimpse of beady yellow eyes staring down at me. Suddenly, I can't see and i'm afraid a dead, bloody raccoon is going to land on my head. I run for cover. Sure enough, here comes Rocky. He hits an outdoor table and does a triple lindy onto the deck. He's dead. One remains and I am seriously impressed with not only my husband's aim but the learning curve on reloading. He shaved minutes off of his usual time.
I ponder my options. So many options for volunteering, projects, travel, visiting friends and once again, I'm overwhelmed.
POP! The third raccoon is hit but decides he's outta there. He heads down the trunk of the tree. Marek reloads and shoots him again. The raccoon waddles toward the wilderness at the edge of our property and disappears into the dark. I am flabbergasted. 3 raccoons out of the mix. What's next?
Well, first, our cats are going to live another day and get a good night sleep.
I realize that there's so much ahead that I didn't even realize that I never really left the Pro Leisure Tour. My kids are engrossed in soccer which means I get to go to sunny Visalia, CA one weekend in October. <read sarcasm> But then there is Phoenix, where my dashing husband will display his talents at his company's big blowout event. A friend is getting married in Santiago, Chile and given the earthquakes and flooding, I'm fairly certain that will be anything but dull. We return for State Cup Championships and San Francisco Ski Balls just long enough to pack for Mexico before Thanksgiving, San Diego for Thanksgiving and a Premier level tournament and before you know it, I'm back in Park City giving a lecture to a bunch of basketball players, with my OTHER best friend from High School.
So much life ahead. My depression fades away nicely and I am back to being myself. Next stop: Retail Therapy!
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