"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."
Where do I even begin? I got sick a few days before New Year’s Eve and ended up ringing in 2026 sick. Is anyone surprised? Because I’m not. I was down for a full week with a terrible case of strep throat—and I don’t even have tonsils. My doctor basically said I’m just prone to strep… because of course I am. Just my luck. Let’s back up to a few days after Christmas. My husband goes on his annual hunting trip every year, which is usually why I end up ringing in the New Year alone. But this time, I decided to go with him. We packed up the Frenchies, Bruno stayed with my sister, and we headed west for a long weekend of hunting. He always brings a couple of deer home, and that meat lasts us through the year. I know hunting isn’t for everyone. We don’t kill for sport—we hunt for food, and we use every part of it. This was actually my first time going to truly hunt. I’ve been out to the land before to shoot guns, fill feeders, and hang around camp… but I’d never gone hunting until now. I...