• A to Z Challenge,  Hunting

    The letter W.

    Hi, I’m Julie. I’m married to Scott. We have two daughters, Emma and Kate. We are the Burtons. Unless it’s September through December. Hi, I’m Julie. I’m married to Christine. We have three daughters – Emma, Kate, and Elle and two sons – Wyatt and Lane. We are the Burton-Bentons. The letter W. Wife. I met Christine years ago at a Eric Church/Kenny Chesney concert. We ran into each other in the parking lot of Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City. We realized we were neighbors, of all things. She told me my house was on the way to school and she could tell I had a husband who hunts. She said her…

  • A to Z Challenge,  Hunting

    The letter S.

    I have to hand it to the man. I’ve been writing on this blog for eight years. The majority of those blog posts are starring Scott, my husband. Scott doesn’t care what I write about on my blog. Or doesn’t know. Scott doesn’t read my blog because “I live the blog.” He’s right. He hears “blog posts” from me every day. But that doesn’t stop me from putting him in the center of some classic posts – The Jockstrap, Men Get Epidurals Too, and The Rack. I think he’s the funnier one of the two of us. He’s the easier one to talk to and he has a quicker wit when put on the…

  • Hunting,  NaBloPoMo,  Womanhood

    The white marlin.

      You could pass this picture off as three men holding a white marlin. No one would question it. Just three friends showing off their giant fish before releasing it back into the ocean. A weeklong “man-cation,” as they say, off the coast of the Dominican Republic.  Really, bulging veins? I can tell you pictures aren’t always as they seem. It was an epic battle in the open sea. A battle against a woman and a white marlin. And the men called her Hercules.  ___________ Wait, don’t go! Find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

  • Hunting

    And that’s why the birds fly.

    “Girls, when you see birds flying in the sky, Bailey is chasing them because she can fly now.” November. The month of thankfulness. The astrological signs of Scorpio and Sagittarius are in the spotlight. The air in November is chilly but it’s welcome by most. The crisp air feels good against the remnants of the summer heat. Ask any hunter what their favorite month is and November will be high on their list. The deer rut begins in the November. November also brings thousands of men and women to reach for that orange vest in their closet. It’s pheasant season. Ask any retrieving dog what their favorite month is and November will sparkle in their eyes. November 10, 2014 – at…

  • Hunting,  NaBloPoMo,  Oh Emma Oh Kate

    The history of Dick.

    Google search: Why is Dick’s Sporting Goods named Dick’s? Dick’s Sporting Goods was founded in 1948. The sporting goods store is named after its founder Richard “Dick” Stack. Google search: Why is Richard named Dick? In the 12th and 13th centuries everything was written by hand and Richard nicknames like Rich and Rick were common just to save time. Rhyming nicknames were also common and eventually Rick gave way to Dick. Dick, of course, is the only rhyming nickname that stuck over time. Richard’s Sporting Goods would be a fine name for such an establishment in 2016. But no, we are left with the name that stood stiff as board through nine centuries. Dick. Me:…

  • Hunting

    The Bachelor.

    As a blogger, I can see a lot of things. I can see how many people read my blog. I can see how you found my blog, such as Facebook or Twitter. I can see how many read my “About” page (that tells me you’re probably a new reader). I can see which pictures get downloaded. I can see which country you live in – United States, Canada, United Kingdom are my top 3. I can see how many times you watch a video. I can even see what google term you used to find my blog. The only thing I can’t see is you. Are you male or female? Are…

  • Hunting,  Travel

    Dear Scott, part 2.

    Dear Scott, By the time you read this, you made your way down a mountain. Welcome home! You’re alive! You have stories to tell, of course. You have real mountain man stories to tell around suburbia’s fire pit of cushioned chairs and small decorative pillows. You found a handgun on a trail in the wilderness. You returned to camp greeted by two sets of eyes staring at you. The scratches on your face are from walking into trees in a pitch black downpour. Lightening cracked and exploded trees in front of your eyes. Temperatures dropped to below freezing. You only had a small fire to dry out your cold, soaking clothes. The earth shook…

  • Humor,  Hunting

    Dear Scott, part 1.

    Dear Scott, Here we are. Day 4 into your wild backpacking adventure in Colorado. I wonder if you found your prized bull elk yet. I can’t wait to watch you provide for our family by filling our freezer with elk meat. Also, an Instagram picture for you to reminisce with our future grandchildren.  I already have so much to tell you when you come down to the real world with wifi, cell signals, and my honey-do list. But don’t worry about that. That’s part 2. This is part 1. We’re fine, Scott. We’re fine. 96 hours of single parenting later, I am a completely sane individual. I can’t complain, really. The kids are at school for seven…

  • Fitness,  Hunting

    An elk runs my fitness routine.

    There’s an elk roaming a mountain in Colorado right now. He’s 11,000 feet above me. It’s a bull elk. His antlers tower four feet above his head. He eats grass and flowers. He drinks from the clear, cool mountain streams. His surroundings are majestic, a wilderness untouched by man. There are no roads. No trails. He screams a bugle into the thin mountain air, challenging another male for his prize of getting laid. They always want to get laid.  This elk runs my fitness routine. I will never see this elk, not alive anyway. I don’t have the desire to shoot an elk. I’m content with killing my meat with a swipe of…

  • Hunting

    Ticks and Johnny Boy.

    Scott: What are you doing? Me: Taking a selfie with a lady bug. Scott: Why? Me: I don’t know. I was trying to take my mind off the blood-sucking ticks crawling up my back. I was also trying to take my mind off the boob sweat running down my shirt. Or maybe it was a line of marching ticks. As Scott’s wife, being an outdoorswoman is a requirement. Even if I didn’t tag along on Scott’s Polaris Ranger adventures through the woods, I would still wake up in bed with a tick stuck on me because Scott brings the outdoors home in his beard. And I don’t mean he brings home roses. Well, maybe rose thorns poking my…