Gretchen Wilson

Okay. I talked about Gretchen's "Redneck Woman" song once before in this blog. I have to say, now that her album is out, I like her even more. I dunno if it's living in Texas, if the water just eventually makes you like country music and women who know the difference between a 15 round clip and a rifle, or whatever, but I like girl country. I just burned a CD from Rhapsody which included Gretchen's entire new album, plus such cool country diva songs as:
Tanya Tucker's "Texas"
Dolly Parton's "Romeo"
as well as artists whose name currently (in my martini drinking state) ex-cape me.

And I'm totally and completely thrilled.

I got a hit to my blog search terms looking for info on how "Gretchen Wilson is not southern." Well. Apparently, as is no secret (it's posted on her website for christussake) she was born in Illinois. And lived there till at least 15. But then lived at least for awhile in Missouri.

I'm here to tell ya. Now, being born north of the Mason-Dixon may preclude me from ever being a native Southerner. But I know how to use "fixin'" and "all yall" in a sentence correctly. And I married a Texan. And I plan to birth me some babies here in the South one day. AND I lived in a trailer park for entirely more time than I care to recall. And I can make a mean batch of beef enchiladas with Chili, as well as "Chicken Bog" and "Beignets" and other various southern food. So Southern doesn't mean born there. And as I discovered when I lived in Washington state, there are bars way up north that you could lift up, pop down to the deepest part of Mississippi and it would not be out of place. Redneck is a state of mind. And while I don't always qualify (I do, after all, appreciate Tiffany's and Moet Chandon, as well as Sushi and Brie) I always love where I grew up. And when I go up north, they always say "You talk funny. Where are you from.?"

To which I reply: "That, my friend, is a long story."

And a reason why I have a certain affinity for Ms. Wilson. More power to her, and I hope she makes enough money to swim in diamond jacuzzis (although that would be impractical). If I weren't going to Alaska when she comes to my hometown I would SO be at the concert. Two-steppin. And wearing my ostrich skin boots. And some tight jeans. And yellin'
yyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee haw.

Just so's you know.