And I'm a Whole Lot Southern

You won't see any cusswords here. But you will see a creative way of talking and from time to time, some downright funny expressions- I hope . It is because of how I was raised. OK, so you know I'm a little bit country and a little bit cowgirl. Well, I'm gonna tell you right now, I am a whole lot Southern. And. Proud. Of. It. And here's why. I grew up in northeast Alabama. Now some of you out there might have some misconceptions. When you think of Southern folk you have visions of greasy mullets, doober-stained bottom lips and brownish green teeth- and that's just the women! The men you probably think of, wear skullets (said greasy mullets with a big fat hole in their hair), thread-bare wife beater t-shirts so thin you can read through them, and they pride themselves on burping the entire alphabet after drinking just one Pabst Blue Ribbon. (Shoot, no big deal there, some of us little adolescent gals could do that after just one Banana Moon Pie and an icy RC Cola.) Ah, but I digress.

Truth is Southern folk are good people. The men put their women on a pedestal, respect them, love them and know what manners are, and it is ingrained in them as second nature. They know that a gentleman stands up when a lady enters their presence. They know that they NEVER go through a door before a woman. For those of you that just don't fully understand that , this includes all kind of doors, doorways, archways, alcove areas, dog-runs, enclosed porches and pass-throughs....every kind, any kind, doesn't matter what kind- wood, glass, metal, bamboo, screened, automatic, handicapped, saloon, trap, do you get what I am saying here? If a lady is present, SHE goes first. If you are on an elevator, make way for the women first. If you were on a bank heist and you blew a hole in the wall, your lady partner goes through first. Tarzan always put Jane on the vine FIRST. He may have been raised by a bunch of apes, but even HE had manners.

Not long ago, I walked up to a table at a social function where several older men were seated, and they all got up. And some of them, it was not easy physically, even as I protested that they needn't bother. Those precious, sweet gentlemen who would not have had it any other way. One even had a hat on, and he doffed his hat to greet me. My mother always said "You can always tell when sombody's had good raisin'." She's right. (Momma, you are ALWAYS right.)

It never ceases to amaze me at the lack of good ol' fashioned manners with some of younger men that I run onto these days. I stepped on an elevator this morning and two guys entered with me. When that elevator door opened and I thought that Cletus the Cowboy was going to knock me down beating me out the door. "Hey Wild Bill, where's the fire?!"I don't know how in Helsinki he could move so fast seeing as how he was wearing a Bonanza Hoss hat so big the Derby gals woulda been green-eyed jealous, and a that belt buckle- he had to have made from that from a table saw blade. If he woulda bent over, that thing woulda cut him clean in two and made him half the man he thought he was to begin with. His Wranglers were so starched they woulda stood alone in the corner. They actually creaked when he walked! Thought it was his boot leather amking that noise. Who knew denim could be so musical? Anywhich, he was in an all-fired hurry about something, and being polite wasn't it. And the dude right beside him didn't exactly graduate from the Prince Charles Grace and Charm School Emporium either. He just fjumped right on out behind Cowboy Cletus. And pe-yew...I am pretty sure he drank his breakfast....."Hey, smooth move Hasselhoff- you born in a barn?" I bet Cletus and you have the same middle name and that would be IDGIT. Guess I have a thing about that. Same thing goes for car doors. Even if you are married. Especially if you are married. Just do it. Might getcha some unexpected sugar.....I'm just sayin'...

My dad always showed me the proper way a man should treat a lady by the way he treated my mom. I passed those things down to my kids, as did my hubby, Big Sugar. (HE IS THE BEST.) So you can imagine how well I liked one young boy who decided to date an unamed daughter of mine (who now likes to blog. ) That boy never once acknowledged my presence. Never a "Hello Mrs. Seaton". Never even looked in my general direction. But he would slouch his lazy aspiration on my nice sofa, eat my food and prop his dirty besneakered feet up on my new glass coffee table. Oh. Yes. He. Did. So when he showed up to take the unamed daughter and apple of my eye to the prom, I volunteered to pin his flower on his tux lapel.

HC, I mean, Daughter went to get her purse and I stepped right on up into this disrespectful little goathead's personal space. I was about 2 inches from his face and I held up that long stick pin, so he saw it really good. As I patted the little worm on his shoulder, I said reassuringly, "You don't need to be afraid of her daddy. But you should really be scared shatless of me." (I smiled, innocently...) "You know what I do for a living? Hmm?" ( I started pinning on the flower) "I'm a nurse....yeah, that's right, a registered nurse." (He STILL had not made eye contact with me. I was staring him down with nary a blink.) "...nurse. And I am reeeeally good with needles." (I leaned in a bit, whispering right by his ear) "....and I've killed before".......(leaned back and looked him in the eye, smiling again) "I'm fairly confident that you will treat my daughter as if I were right there watching your every move." That boy's goozle (Alabama term for Adam's apple) was bobbing up and down so fast, I thought I was going to have an aneurysm trying to keep my composure!

Said daughter came in ready to go and I was all bubbly and sweet, "You two kids have fun, now, and be careful. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt...heh-heh...all kinds of CRAZY people out there, ya know." Now that I remember, he had the sweetest little nervous laugh walking out the door. Funny how you recall those things. Don't you know she was home early...I don't recall him coming 'round much after that. Hmmm.........Now how 'bout that?!