Rachael Clemons

Ten Thousand Turkeys

In honor of Father’s Day, I present a “flash back” piece dug up from my pre-vino vault–Vino Ramblings: High School Edition.

This has nothing to do with turkey hunting...but it makes me chuckle

You know those old men who sit around telling stories about a ten-foot, one-hundred-pound fish that they almost caught? My dad tells those “big fish” stories to whoever will stop and listen.

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The Real American Dream

I recently visited The States to see my baby brother and sister graduate from high school. No, they aren’t twins, so that’s out of the way. My brother is going on to run track at Bethany College in Kansas majoring in who knows what. My sister, who graduated as class president and valedictorian, is going to College of the Ozarks “down south” to be a biology teacher…honorable, but ambitious? Eh. Then again, who am I to decide if a dream is too big or too small? Am I following any of my “dreams?” Are you?

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Airport Saga: Part I

Once upon a time, I would pass the time during layovers by tweeting about stupid people and annoying mishaps throughout my transit, always ending with #AirportSaga. It was a big hit, but that was before I had this website and have more than 180 characters. You’re welcome.

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My Dog Thinks I’m An Asshole


Deployments are hard on everyone involved. They’re hard on the service member, on their family, spouses, children, and in our case, their pets. Not because Henry misses Justin all that much when he’s gone, I really don’t think it affects him one way or the other. No, deployments are hard on Henry because they’re hard on me, and he is the one who has to be my sounding board. Which is why I’m convinced that my dog thinks I’m an asshole.

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A Ramblers Guide to Traveling Abroad

As I’m packing for my latest Euro excursion, I’m having mini flashbacks to previous trips when I was embarrassingly unprepared. As I’m crossing off my packing check-list, I’m writing it all down for you, my readers, because I care about your wellbeing. For if your demise were to come upon you, who would be left to read my mediocre blog posts?

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10 Reasons Why My Husband is My BFF For Life

1. We keep each other humble every day and we always set realistic goals for one another.


2. He gets to hear all of my poop and period stories and he only complains a little bit. I also only hate him for 30 seconds post Dutch oven. We have a code word for when we have to “two” and peeing is referred to as “making pee pee.”

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I’m Not Celebrating Easter

It’s Easter Sunday, and I’m sitting in my Italian villa all alone…with the exception of Henry and his girlfriend, Coco. I’m not incredibly distraught over it, since you sort of learn to deal with detachment from family holidays when you marry a service member and are stationed a transatlantic flight away from home. That being said, when my sister passed the iPhone around during festivities today, I couldn’t help but feel a strong pang of homesickness; it had less to do with my lack of chocolate and jelly beans, but more with the faces that popped up on my computer screen.

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My Dog is an Asshole


My husband, Justin, believes in grand gestures. (And he’s damn good at it. Lucky me!) He surprised me with Henry at the most inconvenient time in both of our lives, and I ended up living in a not so ideal living situation to best accommodate Henry’s needs. Of course my life changed; you can’t do whatever you please when you have someone depending on you, which I didn’t mind one bit. Henry is resilient and has pretty much rolled with the punches through several moves and even more puppy sitters. Henry is the true love of my life. You can even tell my husband–I don’t care, he knows it. He’s always there for me, especially when Justin is deployed, and he listened to my vino ramblings way before I put them to paper. He really is the best pup a gal could ask for. However, there is never a rainbow without a little rain, right?

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Radio Ruined My Life

Attitude is everything at The Boot.
Attitude is everything at The Boot.

People think it’s so cool when I tell them my last job was being a radio personality for a country music station. I try not to be “that person” who cannot take a compliment, so I usually say something along the lines of “Yeah, it was neat” instead of throwing the bundle of complaints that flashed through my skull at the mention of my previous employment. Not that it didn’t have its upsides, but now, being far away from it, I can officially say that radio has ruined my life.

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