Tag Archives: life

36. Wrangler Jeans: Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Wear Levi’s

7 May

Why do Southern people love Wrangler jeans? No, I’m asking you: why? Ok, I’ll admit to admiring the way they hug the backsides of bull riders. But, honestly, I think any jeans would do. Even Walmart brand, if there is such a thing.

Wranglers are supposed to be tough, the Clint Eastwood of jeans. So maybe folks feel more macho with that lasso-esque label on their butt. Still, this doesn’t explain why women wear them. Then again, maybe it does.

I can’t recall whether or not I’ve ever actually owned a pair of Wranglers. I’m sure my sister would remember. She has an uncanny talent for recalling anything you’d rather forget. I do distinctly remember trying on a pair once. This was at Mildred’s, a sad little clothing outpost not far from where I grew up. I can’t remember anything they sold apart from the aforementioned Wranglers. Underwear? Neckties? Ball gowns? Help me out, Richland people…

I never considered myself the Wrangler type. I mean, I’ve yet to attempt roping a steer. Heck, I haven’t even chased after a greased pig. I think you kind of have to earn Wranglers, in the manner of a Boy/Girl Scout merit badge.

When I was growing up, getting caught in Wranglers knocked you at least two rungs down the social ladder. In my mind, anyway. I didn’t even want folks knowing I occasionally wore Lee’s. (eek! now you do!)

I was all about Chic jeans (pronounced like “small yellow bird,” not “oil baron.”). And Jordache (with requisite comb in the back pocket). And my personal favorite, Gloria Vanderbilts (although my dad claimed he couldn’t afford those fancy Gloria “D.” Vanderbilts. Perhaps because he wasn’t John D. Rockefeller?)

Now that I’ve been an ex-pat Southerner all these years, I kind of think I ought to get myself a pair of Wranglers. Embrace my heritage, you know? But where would I even find a pair? I’m guessing Nordstrom doesn’t carry them.

Do you wear Wranglers? What do you like about them?

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35. Four-wheelers or How to Drive without a License

6 Apr

Photo by Denise
Flickr Creative Commons

All-terrain vehicles used to be known as three-wheelers till somebody decided an extra wheel would make them safer. What really might make them safer is if folks didn’t drink a few six-packs before taking them out for a spin. Or let their five year olds loose on them. But, hey, as long as they stick to the woods or the yard, fine by me. It’s not like people get killed or even maimed on them. Not that many, anyway. Not anymore.

Apart from the rifle, four-wheelers may be the best thing that ever happened to hunters. No more pre-dawn, miles-long treks to the deer stand. Just hop on your four-wheeler and go. No more dragging your sad-looking deer carcass home by the antlers. Just secure it to your deer rack and zip back in time for, well, Miller Time.

A little known fact about me: I used to have a three-wheeler. An even littler known fact about me: I wrote an extremely persuasive letter to my dad to secure said three-wheeler. (Which included compelling arguments such as “EVERYbody has one!” and “Do you want me to be the only girl in seventh grade without a three-wheeler??”)

Back in the day, I loved racing around the yard on my bright red three wheeler. Tumbling down the hill wasn’t all that much fun, but it beat sitting around watching ice melt. Maybe the best part was riding with my little sister, hitting a bump and sending her bouncing off the back. Ok, I wouldn’t be laughing if she’d really been hurt. Not too much, anyway.

Sure, ATVs have the tendency to tip over and pour the rider out in the manner of a short, stout teapot. They may not have seat belts. And nobody EVER wears a helmet. But they’re way safer than, say, bull riding or sassing your mother.

Do you have a four wheeler? What do you use it for?

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19. Frito Pie: Easy, Delicious & Low-Cal (2 out of 3 ain’t Bad)

29 Jan

It’s no secret that Southern folks are fond of casseroles, preferably those involving cream of something soup, but there’s one Southern delicacy y’all yankee types might have missed out on: Frito Pie.

Frito Pie doesn’t have a crust, and you won’t encounter any Cool Whip (one hopes), so I’m not sure how it came to be known as “pie.” (But then my mom’s cranberry “salad” features not one item commonly found in a garden, so I figure Southern recipe names are sort of arbitrary.)

Do not be tricked into accepting a soggy substitute such as “Doritos Casserole” or “Tostitos Stuffing.” Frito Pie can only be made with the crunch-retaining magic of Fritos. I must admit, it was a sad day when I discovered Sonic no longer traffics in Frito Pies. Chili-cheese tater tots will suffice in a pinch, but they lack a certain something. Namely Fritos.

Since you’re unlikely to encounter Frito Pie east of Texas or north of Tennessee, I’ll give you the basic recipe:

Frito Pie

Some chili

A bag of Fritos

Tons of cheese

Put the Fritos in a casserole dish. Top with chili and cheese. Bake at 350 degrees till nice and bubbly.

You could also add ground beef, onions, and jalapenos if you wanted to be extra fancy.

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15. Shotguns: For Weddings and Whatnot

12 Jan

While the back window Confederate flag isn’t quite so prevalent these days, it seems that plenty of Southern folks’ pickup trucks are still equipped with gun racks. It’s not often you see a Dixie dweller charged with “carrying a concealed weapon.” In fact, you’ll be informed by bumper sticker which pickups are “protected by Smith & Wesson.”

Why all the shotguns? For one thing, one must be prepared at all times to bag a 10-point buck. And you never know when one will appear in the driveway. This is not hyperbole, people. I’ve seen it happen. Ok, I’ve never actually seen it happen, but I did hear it happen right outside my parent’s house.

While many Southern people enjoy shooting wildlife, many just enjoy shooting in general. Not a Christmas goes by without the men in my family outside trying out their new weaponry. Although I think my dad’s become a bit gun shy since shooting a hole in his dresser years ago.

My most unsettling run in with a shotgun took place when my sister and I were driving to our annual Christmas party. We took a wrong turn in the backwoods and were greeted by two gentlemen packing heat. They asked where we were going and we said, “Uh…Scott’s house?” They said, “Scott Williams?” (This was our first time meeting my friend Karen’s then-boyfriend, now-husband, and we had no idea what his last name was.) We said, “Uh…yeah?” Then they told us which way to go, but never did loosen their grip on said shotguns.

Every Christmas night, we go back to Karen & Scott’s place and are VERY careful not to steer off course. Something tells me those guys don’t believe in second chances.

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8. State Fairs–Carnies and All, Y’all!

7 Jan

At the first state fair I attended outside the South, imagine my distress upon ordering a corn dog and being served something that could have come from the grocery store. Listen up fair food vendors, when I order a corn dog, I want y’all to HAND DIP that weenie. And then brush on the mustard for me. Don’t provide a giant jar of off-brand French’s and expect me to coat the thing myself.

Um, where was I? Oh yes, state fairs.

When I was a kid, we could never enjoy the good fair stuff (rides, games, food) without first trekking through the livestock exhibit. Now maybe this would be exciting for a kid from Manhattan or Los Angeles, but by the tender age of five or six, I’d already seen my fair share of cow patties. Still, we had to tromp past all manner of familiar farm animals and their assorted aromas. Whee! I’m still not sure why this was a requirement, unless it was to teach me the lesson that is still ingrained 30 something years later: “You are responsible for where you put your feet.”

I’ve been to all kinds of fairs and festivals in California and Seattle, but I am still partial to the Mississippi State Fair. Perhaps I’m peering through the rosy-hued lenses of nostalgia, but I really do think Southern state fairs are better. Why? In a word: food.

At any fair, you’ll find the same rickety rides operated by dentally challenged carnies. You’ll find the same rip-off games where you’re lucky to win a goldfish that won’t live to see next Tuesday. Livestock is livestock wherever you may be. But the food? Hoo boy, where do I begin?

First, there are the free biscuits. Let me repeat: Free! Biscuits! With cane syrup that’s made on the spot while you watch (that is, if you enjoy watching mules walk in circles for hours, but you’ve gotta do something to pass the time in the long-ass free biscuit line). You’ll find the usual collection of fried stuff on sticks, but in the South it just tastes better. We’ve perfected the art of deep frying. And, yes, it really is an art. There are the aforementioned hand-dipped corn dogs (affectionately known as “Pronto Pups” which sounds a lot better than the “Krusty Pups” you find in Puyallup, WA). If you’re lucky, you’ll happen upon some “skating rink” style pizza. Of course, you’ll encounter all kinds of barbequed delicacies. And you’ll even find Mississippi-style Chinese food. Yum!

What you most likely won’t see are: Gigantic turkey legs, fried Twinkies, or anything made of tofu. Admittedly, I’ve not been to the fair in a while, but I’ve only run across the aforementioned offerings outside the South.

And the highlight of the event? No, not the gorilla woman or two-headed cobra baby. You can’t really find a good freak show these days. The highlight is the State Fair Taffy. Beware. It is highly addictive, and you will never find any other taffy that compares. Lord knows I have tried.

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6. Hugs, The Handshake of the South

17 Nov

Try a European-style cheek kiss on a Southerner, and you’re liable to get yourself slapped. Much like the word “aloha,” hugs have dual meanings. Hug hello. Hug goodbye. And if you do something nice for a Southerner, they will jump up and “hug your neck.” Don’t worry, they don’t actually hug your neck (which could be confused with, uh, strangling). It’s just an expression.

Now in a business setting, the handshake is standard. Please don’t go hugging clients or potential employers. But if you’re meeting a relative or even a friend-of-a-friend, you may quickly find yourself in a spontaneous embrace. This does not mean they like-like you. Heck, they might not even like you at all. But they will hug you all the same.

If you’re of the frostier, non touchy-feely persuasion, don’t call attention to yourself by trying to avoid the hug. Just close your eyes and think of England. It will be over soon. Of course, you’ll want to slip away from the gathering unnoticed to avoid further friendly fondling. Then again, you might learn to like it.

Are you a hugger? How long do you have to know somebody before a hug seems appropriate?

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