Wranglers.

I obsess. Maybe because I am a pisces. Maybe because I am a middle child. Maybe because I am Mormon. Maybe all of the above. Maybe that will be my next 5 blog entries...
Over a decade ago I read a blog that related a story and as a complete side note to the story it veered to the left on how a) terrible people who wear wranglers are, and b) how taxidermy is of the devil. I may slightly be embellishing the feeling but not much. Everyone has the right to their own feelings. I guess that is called prejudices ya? so why has it ate at me for over 11 years? A couple of reasons; first, I am a social worker. I understand that people are more than the tag on their pants, the art on their wall, or the foundation color they buy at the store. (Which, by the way, if you are going to fight for all people to love with no prejudices, but then are prejudice against a tag on a pair of pants, I think there is a fundamental disturbance) And second; because even tho, I cannot pull off looking good in Wranglers, I ADORE so many people in my life who can, and do!! I AM the person I AM because of Wrangler work ethic and deep down grit.
Perhaps the problem is in the definition. My definition of Wrangler Jeans:  Hard work. Understanding of long hours, real sweat, sacrifice. They are long lasting, steady, sturdy. To me, they mean hauling hay, chasing cows, spending time with my dad and Grandpas, sitting in the front seat of the truck, drinking orange Crush, and my country life.
Then, the taxidermy aspect of life. Anyone who has been in my families home a minute, knows that when you mock this you mock me. Do I hunt? No. Weird that I care right? Yes. It is weird. There are 2 authors on this formentioned blog. I don't know which person, A or person B wrote it. One of them spent time in my home that holds multiple animals on the walls. Ouch. Yes, I am also self-centered. I believe it was a personal attack. (I guess that means I have  6 following blog entries...)
Yes. You should feel sorry for Cody, because in all the memory lapses I do have, there are just as many that don't escape and that I chew on forever. Exhausting. My mom used to say the W on the pockets is for Wonderful Wayne. Love that! :) I guess by writing this out, maybe my mind will shut the door on this memory. And, maybe just maybe it will act as a reminder to be nice. About everyone. To everyone. Just be nice. Just love. And well, maybe it's my problem after all.