One Step Closer

I am one step closer to becoming a full blown, all out, through and through hill billy country bumpkin redneck country girl.

Jim went out and killed one of our chickens today. (Enough said?) And no, I didn't help... I didn't even watch. But when I saw him walk by the kitchen window with a body in one hand and a head in the other, I wasn't as thoroughly disgusted as I thought I would be. Is that a bad sign? (Anyone see my neck turning a little red??)
I certainly was not raised this way and I definitely had major aversions to even the thought that this would be going on in my backyard, but our kids are being raised this way and I'm kind of glad. (Another bad sign?) Dixie and Summer even wanted to watch it all happen. I was initially opposed because I thought for sure it would traumatize them and give them nightmares, but they seemed so excited about the idea (especially Dixie, who assured me she needed to learn how to do it just in case she had to do it when we weren't there to help her (who's child is this??)) so I allowed them to stay and watch. And to my surprise there were no traumatized tears, no disgusted faces, no nothing. I glanced out the window later and they were just playing around and having fun like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I didn't know if I should be proud or appalled.
And now, I have a chicken sitting in my freezer that just a few hours ago had been squawking away in the yard. Yep. I feel like I've crossed a threshold.
And before anyone feels the need to ask... yes, we are planning on eating the chicken.
Country.