Saturday, July 13, 2013


I realize that I haven't blogged in many moons.  Blame it on the ADD.  I blame it on having 16 jobs and no time to breathe, much less write!  But now I only have ONE job and it is AWESOME!  Hence my SHOUTY CAPITALS!  Alas, here I am, feeling inspired again to write about things that you don't care about.  YES!  Today's topic is: Rednecks.  And more specifically, how I have become one.  In case you don't know, I recently moved out into Nowhereville, Colorado.  I had a small stint in Somewhereville in between moving called My Parent's House For Almost a Year, which was great for all the reasons you'd assume.  But we finally found a house and we got a great deal in a little town (totes adorbs) called Peyton.  Yes, it has a zipcode, no your phone won't be able to get you here once you cross Stapleton Drive because you will lose reception.  It's not like the city part of Peyton, either.  It's like 10 miles away from that, where someone could kill you and no one would know, or at least where said killer would take your body to dump.  Wow, that's graphic and not even what I was going to write about.

I don't hate it here, not at all.  It's super pretty and there's all this SPACE (good and bad - I'll explain soon) and the children have room to frolic, although they just stay inside and play Playstation.  And the dog can run for miles and miles, although she just sleeps on the kitchen floor all day and poops inside for no reason.  And I have all this beautiful inspiration to paint landscapes and plants and bones like Georgia O'Keeffe, but I just stay inside and take naps and watch Game of Thrones in my bed because that show is freaking AWESOME.

City chickens gone country
You all know that I am not one to judge (insert laughter), but Rednecks, like the real, mullet-wearing, #tanktop, #momjorts, etc., etc., are just, well... judgeable.  So I do.  And then today the slow realization has been dawning that I, too, am becoming a Redneck, and it's happening quite quickly.  I've only been out here for a few months, and here I sit unshowered with just a bikini top on, my stomach hanging over my #jorts, fatly spilling graham crackers crumbs from my mouth as I eat them straight from the box while I type.  You are welcome for that visual.  I also literally have a red neck from "tanning" today.  "Oh, tanning's not Redneck," you say?  Well, I don't have a lawn, so I put my lawn chair on my husband's trailer and covered it with bath towels to lay out and grab some sun today.  And he moved said trailer to my preferred tanning spot in the back yard by hitching it to the bucket of his John Deere tractor and backing up.  I read my book alongside the sounds of chickens clucking and a plastic bag waving in the breeze.  And a chainsaw.
Tanning Beds, White Trash Style.
I drive by the ol' Pop-A-Top Saloon on my way to work and no longer sneer.  Ok, maybe I still sneer a little.  The broken car in the driveway being used as a cup holder for my PBR?  Not judging it, doing it.  That's extreme and not all true.  But there is a broken car in my driveway and the other day we had friends over and there were like 9 cars in front of the house and it looked totes white trash.  We also roasted marshmallows outside in the fire pit with those friends.  No sticks for roasting?  No problem.  Here is some wire we found on the ground.  Is that the specific flavor of... tetanus?  There was a sick ass snake outside the other day and OMG I hate hate hate snakes and the only thing I could do was flap my arms scaredly and tell my 8 year old to shoot it (which he did because he, too, is becoming redneck).
And did I mention that my house is actually a trailer house?  Welllll it iiiiisssss!  Here's what I've discovered about living in a trailer house: I don't really give a crap.  We don't have grates on the vents.  The doors are off the hinges in multiple rooms.  Probably not gonna fix.  Everything I own is still in an open box sitting on the floor.  There is an entire room that smells like cigarettes and piss that we need to prime and paint so the kids don't have to sleep in the office anymore.  Ooooorrrr we could just close the door.  I don't know why living out in the middle of nowhere allows me the mindset to just not care.  But I do think it has something to do with the SPACE.  There is just so much of it!  It's as if it doesn't matter that there is a huge outside trash pile over there, and then another one 6 acres down.  The huge trash piles actually look tiny from my window in my bedroom, which is where I am anyway watching Game of Thrones.  And it's not like I'm going outside to walk up to the trash piles, because that's just silly.  Is my mind becoming free as I slowly begin to not care what people think?  Or am I just disgusting?  That was rhetorical; please don't answer.
Home Sweet Trailer
This is an inconclusive blog.  I am without conclusion.  Allz I can say is I am on my way to becoming accustomed to always feeling like I'm camping; it even smells like camping here (not the outhouse smell, the fresh rain on dirt smell, calm down).  Let me leave you with some pictures of the Adventures of City Girl in the Country!
Sooooooooo cute!  These are the neighbor's cows.  
Sunset over the neighboring trailer and beer holder - I mean truck.