American by birth
Southern by the Grace of God
I love my Southern roots. I have some wonderful memories of visiting our relatives in Mississippi when I was younger. There were warm nights of sitting on the porch and eating watermelons directly out of the garden. I drove a tractor (nearly killed me and my great-uncle, but I drove it). My great-aunt gave me a coffee tin of flower seeds from her enormous wild flower garden. I even got to see the small little shack my grandfather and his six siblings were all born and raised in before it was torn down a few years later.
The other day I found the show BBQ Pitmasters on Netflix. The Southern food, Southern accents, and Southern eccentricities has reminded me of my roots. In fact, it's really hard not to listen to the accents and not let it slip into my own speech. (The same thing happens when I watch movies with Southern characters. Country Strong about did me in.)
So it may not be a surprise when today my mind wandered where it did. It's laundry day. You know what that means, clothes that rarely make a public appearance suddenly emerge into view.
Today's embarrassing moment:
Let's all remember that I have two months left.
It was as I was wearing this shirt that I couldn't help but think of my redneck roots and combine that with my affinity for SNL.
Pardon the quality of this video. Somehow, it's the only clip of this skit online, which is a real shame because it is pretty dang funny.
And there you have it. The absurdity of my day.