Tuesday, October 23, 2007

My Redneck Weekend

I went to my sister’s this weekend. Normally a visit to Rittie’s means eating lots of good food, watching slightly embarrassing teen flicks, and playing with the wee bairns. However, this time “family” was in town and with them an accompanying sense of duty. People who have traveled thousands of miles need to be shown stuff—local color type of stuff.

What do people do in old steel town, USA when family comes to visit? The overwhelming answer to Rittie’s question was: a visit to Cabella’s, the “World’s foremost outfitter for hunting and fishing.” The retail store boasts of “a conservation mountain, featuring hundreds of museum-quality wildlife displays in natural habitats.” Conservation Mountain?! What with every dead animal boasting of the hunter’s rank and the size gauge used? The wee bairns initially loved it—wee bairn #2 especially, as she loves any and all animals, dead or alive. Wee bairn #1 was especially enamored with the inflatable snowman wearing a bright orange vest and packing heat. However, when we moved into the room with the “Wall of Fame” (plaque upon plaque of mounted deer heads) even wee bairn #1 was disturbed. “I don’t want the animals to be dead mommy!” And then when he saw the wax figurine of “woodsman” he thought that he too had been killed and stuffed. “Look mom, a dead man!” We topped off the experience with a side of road kill sold at the onsite buffet.

Next we drove to Crystal Caves. The drive was quite beautiful—through the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country. The trees were changing color and red barns and stone houses dotted the landscape. It truly was picture postcard perfect. However, the cave itself was a little underwhelming. The tour started with us sitting in a moldy, dank basement on metal chairs watching a poorly executed film projected on a wall. We then followed the local expert through the cave where he pointed out such rock formations as: Abraham Lincoln, a beaver, a turtle, and Jack Frost--none of which looked anything like the objects he named. We finished off the day by eating at Texas Roadhouse where the red lighting gives the meat more color than it actually possesses and where the music is played so loud that you can’t hear the wee bairns screaming for their food—which is not necessarily a bad thing but prohibits any conversation with anyone else.

However the weekend was cemented permanently in my mind as a keeper when I wore my sister’s maternity clothes, complete with maternity nylons, to church the next day as they were the only ones that fit me, and I had forgotten mine. There is nothing that makes you feel less sexy than wearing maternity clothes, even if the clothing in question is a fitted black knee-length skirt.

Some people look down on me
But I don't give a rip
I'll stand barefooted in my own front yard with a baby on my hip
Cause I'm a redneck woman
And I ain't no high class broad
I'm just a product of my raisin'
And I say "hey y'all" and "Yee Haw"


Retail Worker #48721093 said...

Gretchen Wilson?!? Ok, I watch me a little too much CMT on occasion but I draw the line at Gretchen Wilson.

I fear what backwoods Maryland is doing to you. Whatever you do stay out of West Virginia. :D

Lady Susan said...

RW--I only just now listened to the song. I knew about it by reputation only and looked to see if any of the lyrics would fit this particular post. I too am glad that you draw the line at Gretchen Wilson. Don't worry, I think my backwoods Maryland corruption has been minimal. ;)


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