Hell and High Water

October 23, 2006 at 7:50 pm (AZ, Beading, Black Stone Cherry, Crazy Shit, Memories)

I posted over at MySpace yesterday and I was too lazy to post it here and upload pics, so ya’ll can meander over there and check it out if you so desire. Http://www.myspace.com/nannerpeach.  And since I don’t feel like changing names around and if you read my MySpace blog you know that AZ’s real name is Steve. And if you didn’t, well, you do now.

* It snowed today. SNOW! Not drizzle frizzle sorta snow, but SNOW! What? It’s not even NOVEMBER yet! Nate said, “Momma, we may have a white Christmas.” I said, “Dude, we have a white Halloween.” Wind chill is 33 degrees! Brrrrrr….

* However, it is hunting season. Yes, I am hunter. I’m sorry if you think killing Bambi is wrong. Killing Bambi controls population and disease. I don’t squirrel hunt unless my parents want some because I can’t stand the smell of it cooking and I hate the taste of it, so, Rocky is safe around me. I do have Bullwinkle’s antlers in my living room though. My mom is not into the “rustic” look, think more Martha Stewart. When my Grandpa died I inherited my father’s relics from his time in Alaska with the Army, namely, Bullwinkle’s antlers and a bear rug, with snarling face and all. Sadly, where it had hung on my Grandpa’s wall for … 30 or so years, it had dry-rotted. Nate hangs stockings from Bullwinkle’s antlers during Yuletide.

Anyway, last year, I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn. The year before that the strap on my gun broke and it went barrel down in the copious amounts of mud I sloshed through. I was on my way back to the farm to clean the barrel when… yeah, out steps this GORGEOUS 8 POINT and I’m standing there with mud in my barrel. Yes, there was a fleeting moment when I thought, “It’s only mud… and that’s an eight point buck.” Whoever said “discretion is the better part of valor” can suck my rosy nipples.

I’ll post more about my experiences, thoughts, and comments about hunting later. Some are quite humourous.

* Did I misspell Faberge’ in my last post? I think I did. I hate that cuz I’m a geek!

I know your hiding places
I know your every move
Cus’ girl I’ve been lonely too
I’ve seen a million faces
Been to a million places
But girl there’s no one quite like you
(Chorus)
And I’d walk through hell and high-water
Wash away with the tide
I could lose a damn war all by myself
If you were on the other side
So in the morning when the rooster crows
Pack your bags and get ready to go
If you’re walking through hell and high-water
Please don’t do it alone
I know you feel let down
I know you’ve been turned out
I wish I’d been there for youWhen the night-time comes around
And you feel like an un-lit town
Just know I’ll be there for you

(Chorus)

One of the many things I like about Black Stone Cherry is a certain maturity to their lyrics. This song figures out things it took me and other people years to catch on to.

It’s nice to know that somewhere in the world, someone knows the places you hide, the things you do when life is not so good, and they don’t let you languish alone, even if they can’t be right by your side. Sometimes it is really enough to know they would be there, if they could.

One of my greatest personality flaws is my inability to let people into my inner sanctum. People who read my writing probably have a better window into me, the real me, than my everyday acquaintances. It’s very hard for me to lean on people in time of crisis. I’m very much a hermit. I may write about it, but getting me to talk about it, verbally, one to one, I’ve been told, can be a frustrating ordeal. It goes back to “When the Weight Comes Down” and “Shooting Star.” You can want very much to have someone there for you, and not know how to reach out for it.

I know in my case, I have had my hand smacked quite viscously a few times and it also goes back to, it’s not really that you may not trust them, but don’t trust yourself. It takes a lot of courage to be vulnerable and I admire people for that. Frankly, I suck at it.

Every so often, my friend T-Bird reminds me, “You know, I like to feel like more than a place for you to watch football, sleep on the couch, and eat. It’s nice to feel needed sometimes beeotch!” She can say that, she watched me squeeze my son out. She also knows when shit is bad, I watch football, and sleep on her couch and I eat, cuz I like food. Told ya’ll that. (If it’s not football season, her old man and I drive her crazy by watching non-stop Behind the Music on VHI or “When KISS Ruled the World” or she joins us in watching any variation of “Law & Order” while yelling at the kids to stop bouncing off the walls) She very gently reminds me by a swift kick in the ass that my friends can be there as much for me as I am for them.

I would also like to take up for myself and remind HER that other than having Nate, I have lived by myself for over 11 years, except for that one year or so of insanity which was worse than living alone, and you don’t get sick days or vacation days when its just you. You do, or you die. My parents live about an hour away, and for most of Nate’s younger years, she lived in Detroit. Not exactly like I could step out of my door and be there in five minutes. My brother lives 2 1/2 hours away, Beanie lived in Philly, and Steve was engaged. Were it not for the gentle persuasion of my neighbors at the time, I may have gone stark raving mad since Nate didn’t sleep for the first two years of his life, I worked full-time, sometimes overtime, and there were still times Nate ate and I didn’t.

That’s the way it was. I did, or we died. There’s a lot of side things that go into that about Nate’s dad and my parents etc. etc. But, it doesn’t mean anything now, other than, it’s a very hard habit to get out of. And let’s not forget those lingering abandonment issues. (Yes, I’m well aware of my issues) I admitted this to Steve recently and he said, “You know, you need to work on letting people in your life.” I responded, “Maybe it would help if people stuck around a little longer.” Touche’

This is too long and I’m rambling. I guess I could have just said, “This song reminds me that it’s okay to let people in.”

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13 Comments

  1. Seamus said,

    Glad you thought better about the presence of mud in your barrel!

    Letting people into your life isn’t aways easy is it?

  2. kenju said,

    You can ramble anytime you want, but clean the barrel, please.

  3. LisaBinDaCity said,

    Squirrel does not sound tasty to me. Much as I hate the little buggers, (they tore up my Mother’s roof – repeatedly,) they still sound kinda gamy…

  4. Charmed said,

    Well, I have to say that squirrel does the same to me, so does rabbit. Can’t stand to smell either of them cooking, much less eat them. Yuck.

  5. Celti said,

    Chris got a new shotgun & we’re going to have us some Bambi this year!

    Letting people in is important, but every time you get burned it becomes more difficult. We become jaded and it’s a constant battle to overcome that.

    I’m glad I let you in, Nanner. You’ve never made me regret it.
    *hugs*

  6. brighton said,

    I have trouble letting people in too, sometimes it just seems easier to shoot them…

  7. Vince said,

    I’m all for shooting Bambi if he’s tasty. And you actually eat what you kill. Hunting for “sport”, that is, just for the sake of killing, is wasteful.

  8. Zelda said,

    Discretion is the better part of valor.

  9. mrsmogul said,

    SNOW??????

  10. blackpunkin said,

    What happened to MY comment????? GAH! The only thing I can remember is telling Brighton I had a gun and asking Zelda if Jethro was going to watch… GAH!

  11. Jeanette said,

    😆 at Brighton. Sometimes it is easier to shoot them, for sure.

    🙂

  12. Zelda said,

    😆 Sure. He can suck mine at the same time.

  13. Inanna said,

    Jeanette… no doubt!

    I LOVE YOU ZELDA!!! *suck* *suck*

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