- May 11, 2010
- 35,100
- 36,694
- 1,097
Just remember: when society falls apart the PhD brains will need us folks who know how to grow, process, and cook our own food.
I'll send the hubby over to help with the fridge. Would you like a plate of fried chicken, Polk salad, mashed taters and some iced tea?
I've always been the country chick in my ultra modern city family. I was the one who raised a chicken in my bedroom. So it was no surprise when I married into a clannish mountain family.
And I've embraced my country life and expressed my wholesome lifestyle in some rather interesting ways. A few years back my sister called to let me know my mother was placed in a nursing home. Horrified, I quickly packed and loaded the only truly reliable vehicle we had at that time. Let me tell you those knobby tires on my Jeep hummed a nice tune the entire trip to Florida.
Of course Florida is famous for sudden thunderstorms and we ran into some rough weather which quickly evaporated. I decided to take a short cut and navigated through some rather primitive terrain. Thank goodness for safety belts or I may have accidentally tossed the hubby. I stopped for gas and noted the Jeep was rather dirty but didn't have time to clean her. I gave the windshield a quick squirt and drove on.
My hubby and I arrived at my sister's million dollar home. We cruised along the development trying to find the correct house. The massive tires grumbled along the asphalt and slung bits of debris. I studied the perfectly manicured lawns and began to plot a devious plan. Slowly, I edged the Jeep toward a brilliant green yard. The hubby gave me the raised brow and a stern verbal warning so I guided the Jeep back to the center of the lane. Still I plotted. My mind works in strange ways when stressed.
I found my sister's house and parked the Jeep in her driveway. We climbed out and did a few quick stretches. I noticed the neighbors looking through the windows. I looked at my Jeep and smiled with pride. The vehicle was encrusted in Florida's dirt. Bits of palmetto bush stuck out like stray strands of hair, and water dripped from her like sweat from a horse. A huge clump of dirt fell from her undercarriage as if she took a massive dump on the perfectly clean drive way. The hubby and I were dressed in blue jeans and plaid cotton shirts. The Rednecks had arrived.
And with typical redneck pride I hitched up my jeans and shouted, "Hey! Madelyn! Where do you want me to put the pit bulls?"
My sister was so embarrassed but her husband (a country boy) laughed so hard he could barely walk out to welcome us.
Despite my rather flamboyant arrival I have to note I was the first one to arrive to help with a family crisis. And when it comes to family we rednecks stick together.
I'll send the hubby over to help with the fridge. Would you like a plate of fried chicken, Polk salad, mashed taters and some iced tea?
I've always been the country chick in my ultra modern city family. I was the one who raised a chicken in my bedroom. So it was no surprise when I married into a clannish mountain family.
And I've embraced my country life and expressed my wholesome lifestyle in some rather interesting ways. A few years back my sister called to let me know my mother was placed in a nursing home. Horrified, I quickly packed and loaded the only truly reliable vehicle we had at that time. Let me tell you those knobby tires on my Jeep hummed a nice tune the entire trip to Florida.
Of course Florida is famous for sudden thunderstorms and we ran into some rough weather which quickly evaporated. I decided to take a short cut and navigated through some rather primitive terrain. Thank goodness for safety belts or I may have accidentally tossed the hubby. I stopped for gas and noted the Jeep was rather dirty but didn't have time to clean her. I gave the windshield a quick squirt and drove on.
My hubby and I arrived at my sister's million dollar home. We cruised along the development trying to find the correct house. The massive tires grumbled along the asphalt and slung bits of debris. I studied the perfectly manicured lawns and began to plot a devious plan. Slowly, I edged the Jeep toward a brilliant green yard. The hubby gave me the raised brow and a stern verbal warning so I guided the Jeep back to the center of the lane. Still I plotted. My mind works in strange ways when stressed.
I found my sister's house and parked the Jeep in her driveway. We climbed out and did a few quick stretches. I noticed the neighbors looking through the windows. I looked at my Jeep and smiled with pride. The vehicle was encrusted in Florida's dirt. Bits of palmetto bush stuck out like stray strands of hair, and water dripped from her like sweat from a horse. A huge clump of dirt fell from her undercarriage as if she took a massive dump on the perfectly clean drive way. The hubby and I were dressed in blue jeans and plaid cotton shirts. The Rednecks had arrived.
And with typical redneck pride I hitched up my jeans and shouted, "Hey! Madelyn! Where do you want me to put the pit bulls?"
My sister was so embarrassed but her husband (a country boy) laughed so hard he could barely walk out to welcome us.
Despite my rather flamboyant arrival I have to note I was the first one to arrive to help with a family crisis. And when it comes to family we rednecks stick together.
