Case in point: today we had a conversation that consisted of the following:
- The state of the flooded creeks in town
- Selling the purebred purse dogs they breed
- My stepdad's professional fishing activities
- The woodland squatter under their house
- We think it's a skunk.
- Cat food is better for trapping skunks than dog food (don't ask me how I know this)
- She needs to call the neighbor to shoot it if she traps it while my stepdad is gone.
At least she hasn't gone feral enough to pull out the shotgun and shoot it herself.
Her mix of redneck and Yankee is kind of adorable. She's sent me phone pictures of the cows in the back yard, for example, as if they are something novel, and a few weeks ago she sent me a picture of the fiberglass owl (pictured--normally used to scare off birds who might nest in inopportune places) that my stepdad pulled from the lake the previous day while fishing. Which they put in the back yard, of course.
You can't make this shit up. And you see why I have to write about rednecks.