Roots and Wings

I started a post about work, but decided it was best to think about other things. Otherwise, my brain might implode. However, since I am presently at work, this will be difficult.

People keep interrupting me! Can't they see that I'm trying to goof off here? I will not post about work, will not. If I post about work, I end up sounding alternately like a mewling harpy or a heartless mercenary. Nice, eh?

Dude. I'm even starting to write Canadian. July 1st, I will be out of here. No more embarassing co-workers or oxycontin-seeking time-wasters. Yeah, my neck hurts too. Unfortunately I don't have TennCare and am not "allergic" to percoset. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

So, my husband is Canadian, and I'm moving there. Canadians are like Yankees with manners. Sorry northerners, but y'all are pretty rude. I can't get decent service north of the Mason-Dixon, even at freaking Cracker Barrell. That's not to say all Yankees are rude, but there sure are a lot of them.

I know, I know, what about our rednecks. Well, yeah. They used to bother me, and some of them still do. But more of them are bathing now, and some of them painted the cars on blocks. So, you know, progress. Plus, come on folks, this is my home. I can't help but love it. Even if some of my neighbors are a little eccentric.

Unfortunately, I grew up in the "ritzy" end of town, please note here that my neighborhood was built way before the west end was "ritzy," but you get the general idea. Therefore, I did not live in a trailer, own six hound dogs, have a brother/uncle named Cletus, or have scabies for friends. As you can imagine, my life was very unfulfilling until I went to college.

In college, I lived with a Bassett Hound, which is like an apartment-sized, low-rider hound dog, used coffee filters for toilet paper, and, of course, ate Ramen noodles for three meals a day. So it was almost like embracing my heritage. Really, though, there's a lot of cool stuff about Tennessee.

First of all, the Smoky Mountains are gorgeous, and I fortunately live about 45 minutes from them. Despite the fact that SEC College Football is more popular than the Baptist churches on Sunday, the college's mere presence makes for some cool nightlife. Plus, bluegrass music, James Agee, Cormac McCarthy, barbeque (no barbeque in Canada, wtf!?), the blues, rustic cabins, tobacco and therefore smoking sections aplenty (possibly the only upside to RJ Reynolds), and last but not least, the immortal David Keith.

So, as you can see, the Big Orange valley kicks a little bit of ass. Plus, when I visit up north, I'm like a celebrity: "Pleeease tell us what a corn pone is again." Actually, my husband's friends make fun of him for adopting the incredibly versatile "y'all." But they do enjoy my folksy euphemisms, such as: "He don't know his ass from apple butter!" and the ever-popular, "She's been rode hard and put up wet." I think it's possible to both embrace the 21st century and appreciate my heritage. Who was it that said you can have both roots and wings?