Yeah, sorry. That's when I use my big girl words and boot them out. I am always wearing muddy jeans and a baggy sweatshirt (as in, I could have a camp out in some of them), so I really feel out of place too.
I'm thinking about posting "Dumbest things a city slicker has ever told you" thing. One of mine would be:
Me: Don't poke your fingers in the cages (for the 999,900,000th time)
Them: Yeah, the chickens will give you rabies.
They weren't laughing. Also, somebody asked me what kind of rabbit my silkie was.
I think it's so cool that you make your own clothes!
I can't believe that lady got freaked out at your son having muddy water on his pants! Comon! That mud was probably a lot cleaner than whatever they touch on their outings to the mall.
Don't let them get to you. They're just potholes in the road of life.
I am a continuous mass of flour dog hair, chicken poo, mud, and probably a twig or two stuck in my hair. I figure, once they can homeschool a 7th grader, sling a hammer, wield a skill saw and bake a delicious batch of chocolate chip cookies all in the same day - then the silly sorority girls who look at me funny at the grocery store can judge. Until then, Phooey!