My family is from Louisiana.  And that really ought to be enough for this post.  It really ought to explain me. 

My sister is what you might call a Major Leaguer… meaning she is up to her ass in the Junior League of Dallas.  My cousin took a class on taxidermy so he wouldn’t have to pay to have animals mounted. He could just let it age in his garage and then stuff the shit himself.

So you see the paradox that is my family. Yes, I dressed up in a big white ballgown and was presented.  So was my sister.  And yes, we grew up in house where you either shoot it, stuff it or marry it.

I don’t know what I have to say about all this.  I don’t know what it all means. 

I just know that whiskey tastes better in Waterford, but I still pour it into that crystal glass from a plastic flask.  And I know that you don’t keep guns under the bed, you keep them in a special room you have built with special cabinets that have code locked doors and counters tops that are higher than normal. 

And I know that if your kids are going to watch TV, well, they oughta reload shot gun shells while they do it.  I know that its important to learn the seasons… dove, duck, deer… not summer, spring, fall.  I know that men look crazy sexy in camo and 3 days of beard. 

And I know that women should do charity work, that we should volunteer, that we need to go to meetings to plan social events and that every woman needs at least one ballgown.

I guess that’s why you can typically find me at a charity event, in a ballgown, standing outside with a bourbon and a Marlboro light.  After all, I am equal parts of my mother and my father.  I am a little bit debutante and a little bit taxidermist.