Puddin' Pop

Somewhere deep down... or maybe not so deep... I'm a country girl. A country girl, not a redneck woman. You see, I have no delusions that my upbringing is best bar none, that my manners are superior or somehow by being in the south I'm a better woman and treated better by men. It's nonsense. Country can be classy, and it can be trashy. I prefer to think I'm the former but... best be careful.

A few years ago I went on a retreat with my sorority up into the mountains of North Carolina. It was past Boone from here, a drive forever (felt like forever) long in the cold. We did skits at one point, and I was only a candidate that semester. We asked our big sis's to give us (little sis's) a sort of "nick name" after the skit. Well my big sis, Katie, is much more country than I am and she picked the name... yeah that one. Gaawwn.

Most of the time I'm struck by how country I'm not, rather than how country I am... because most of the time I'm here. I've never milked a cow and I never did figure out how to keep my cowboy hat from sliding off my hair. If I wear boots it's for practical purposes (like walking in mud) and not a fashion statement. I don't wear sundresses and I don't know how to pick out watermelon. I've never fried a chicken, and I prefer veggies (greens like collards) to french fries.

But... I do use odd phrases upon occasion like "fixin" and "reckon" and "yall." I'm not afraid of snakes on the front porch, though I do get queasy about butterflies. I fry apples and am proud of it, and get recipes out of my mom's little recipe box--and know the ones with the most grease spots are probably the better recipes. I did pull out a quilt for the summer. Only thing is... the A/C is running so strong I need more than that to stay warm at night! More blankets, I mean. Nobody get any ideas.