Okay, maybe Georgia and Alabama too.

According to this article, the state wants to help make it easier for you to buy a gun for Grandpa this Christmas, and so they have provided a tax free day for the purchase of your own "weapon of self-destruction".

From the article :

"The so-called "Second Amendment Weekend" is thanks to a little-debated amendment legislators tacked on this summer to a tax break for energy-efficient appliances."

I flew home from Denver this morning and a sudden drop in temperatures required them to de-ice the plane before we took off from the airport.

Now here's the thing. Who came up with a term like "de-ice"? Leave it to those darn airline folks to find weird ways to say things. I mean they ask us to "de-plane" when they could just say "leave".  Isn't de-icing just warming up the plane? It looked to me like they sprayed us down with a load of anti-freeze before we took off.  What happens to that stuff when we hit the atmosphere? Does the anti-freeze stick to the plane? Why don't they just install heaters that can heat up the wings and keep the ice from forming? If they can hook up propane heaters to double-wides there must be somethin' similar for airplanes. And who decided that a tiny bag of peanuts qualifies as a snack?

And while we're at it, we had some great food in Denver. Last night we had something called "Jonah Crab". We were in the middle of the country with no body of water anywhere in sight - so where does the crab come from? And what did Jonah have to do with it?  Were these crabs caught in the belly of whales?

And finally, how come everyone thinks all southerners come from Texas? That state must have some dang good PR firm working for it. 'Cause everybody thinks we all got birthed right there in that one state. Or maybe they're hoping that Texas has some kind of a fenced in camp where they can keep us rednecks safely away from the smart people.  Not sure. 

This is the danger of letting us rednecks out in public. We started wonderin' about stuff. That's just dangerous.

It was pretty interesting to listen to the results rolling in from all of those red states that are my birthplace. But what struck me was how the reporter kept referring to them as "Confederate States."  He also mentioned "Union" states which my husband and I assumed related to the Civil War position taken by the states on the East Coast.  But come to think of it, he might have been referring to states that are heavily unionized. It wasn't clear. Either way, its pretty weird to think those historical divides are still predicting election results in member states. 

It is nice to live in a state in which the decisions of the majority match your individual voting preferences, but I wonder how many people decide where to live based solely on the politics of a region.  I certainly know how it feels to be in the minority where your vote is outnumbered every year.

I think it was telling that Indiana supported Obama - it says volumes about a state that was the birthplace of a movement that fostered racial animosity.

Maybe there is room for moderate rednecks or even bluenecks in this country. Hopefully we can all come together now to start building a nation of star-spangled- and striped- necks that all work together.

Best I can tell, the purpose of going to a desert resort is to sit by the pool. If you have a strong desire to be by water, why wouldn't you just go to the beach?

I just got back from a trip to Palm Springs. I spent most of the time in air conditioning and had a few minutes to relax by the pool but still.

Why do people want to go on a vacation to a desert? We were in a fancy enough hotel but it seemed like its entire purpose was to make us forget we were in a desert. It even had a fake lake with boat rides that went into the lobby of the hotel. And this is exactly what they do in Las Vegas. It's an entirely simulated city with most of the attractions having to do with water.  

So next time, I'm going to go stay at a cheap hotel at the ocean and pretend I'm at a desert. I might wait a couple of hours to drink anything so it's more realistic and I'm good and dry. Then I'll turn up the air conditioner real high and go sit by the pool, all the while imagining I'm in a desert.

Don't let on that I told y'all this.

But it's way past Labor Day and I'm wearing white. I even went out in public in my pretty-as-you-please white pants. And I even went to a nice place, the Target not the Kmart, so that makes it worse.  I might a been OK if today was Big Lots day.  But I had to have a hankerin to go to the fancy Target in Dublin.

And if that weren't trouble enough I was wearing my white pants with a pair of shoes that don't match my handbag. Whatever y'all do, don't tell Mommer n 'em. They already think I've gone Yankee, what with livin' out here on the West Coast 'n all.

The natural disasters out here are pretty wimpy.  Sure we have our occassional earthquakes but I think they're fun.  I mean I paid good money at the Myrtle Beach amusement park to ride a roller coaster, and out here they're free.  Sure, occassionally the quakes cause your doors to get just a tad off kilter, so the locks don't fit the holes just right.  And there is a need to use your chewed up Bubble Yum as adhesive under your finest Flintstone glassware, but I figure that is helping save the environment.  That gum doesn't have to be recycled.

And it is a little bit disconcerting when you're watching a Dukes of Hazzard rerun and the walls start to shake. It's not really scary until you suddenly realize that you didn't buy that sensaround sound system for the trailer.

But I'm tellin' ya. You people in Texas, Florida and Louisianna have got to be gettin' sick of the hurricanes, floods, high winds and the like that keep making your homeland targets.  I'm just letting y'all know, there are oceans that don't involve hurricanes and even though you might have to live in a tiny little one room shanty out here, it's a lot safer.  But bring your own grits, fried okra, and hushpuppies - it's slim pickin's out here in that regard.

Every small town in the south has an amazing main street. They reflect the history of the place. Some of them are filled with discount shops that offer great deals on polyester pant suits and pleather shoes.  But here it's a whole new ballgame. There are designer boutiques on every corner. Talented artisans selling amazing works of art. Lots of weird hangy crystally things to help you hypnotize your chakras into a blissful state. I think Dawn detergent is the only thing powerful enough to find its way through the greasy coating that has my chakras covered. But I digress.

There are great restaurants with quaint outdoor seating. I love that downtown feel.  My hometown of Greenville, SC has done a great job of revitalizing their little downtown. You feel safe when you're there. And there are some great stores and restaurants too -even artists selling their wares.  

But I am amazed that the feeling exists here in California.  I don't know what I expected.  Maybe I thought palm trees wouldn't work in a small downtown. Or maybe I thought front porches only existed in the South. Or maybe I thought people moved faster here, that strolling down a tree lined street didn't fit with the high-tech coffee drinking atmosphere.

But that's where I was wrong.  No matter where you are and what you do, it is always nice to take a leisurely stroll and to just appreciate the view, and to stop and admire those small business people who still manage to thrive in unique shops in small towns everywhere.  

Northern California has some of the most gorgeous beaches I've ever seen.  There's that incredible combination of mountain and coastline that I will probably never get used to.  But there's one big problem.  The water is too darn cold.  Five seconds in the surf and your toes have turned black.  What's the deal?

Why would you waste all that time and energy creating a fabulous coastline and then fill it with cold ocean?

Now, you natives are going to tell me that I should wear a wetsuit.  Have you ever seen a grit-eating twinky lover wearing a wetsuit?  That extra lard is gonna have to squirt out somewhere.

For me, the thrill of the ocean is getting immersed in it, testing your ability to body surf those waves right on to the shore.  If you don't end the day with both knees scraped you haven't tried to ride enough waves. 

During a recent vacation to Myrtle Beach, SC I was observing the relative body-surfing talents of my family members.  Both of my brothers are very athletic but the youngest is "Joe Adventure Race" (yes we have those in the south, and no, there are no pitch forks involved.) So "Joe" has a huge competitive streak and also has a 6 foot something "Joe, Jr" to contend with all of a sudden.   His son has suddenly begun to tower over him and being the competitive sort, ole Joe isn't taking too kindly to being in the second position.  So he and his son are both body-surfing with a vengenance.  Since I had spent much of the day missing all the good waves (my timing is not the best), I decide to just watch them for a while.  It got to be pretty funny.  Ole Joe would line up at precisely the same time as Joe, Jr.  Both heads would disappear under the surf in a flawless surfing maneuver.  Then all of a sudden, I'd see two heads pop up and a series of fisticuffs would immediately ensue.   Joe, Jr. would be hollerin' at the top of his lungs while Joe, Sr would be laughing and ducking to avoid connecting with the blows coming his way.  It seems Joe Sr. kept trying to even the odds by grabbing his son's feet on every surfing attempt. 

It got to be so predictable that I decided to sit on the shore and watch the two of them - each trying to out perform the other.  The funny part is how similar the two of them are.  I can remember the father being exactly like his son when we were growing up.  Makes me feel good (and a little proud) that the competitive one has bred his own biggest rival.   

I'm fixin to head to the East Coast and get some Myrtle Beach clam chowder so I can truly determine if the South has been outdone by the San Francisco sourdough bowls full of clam chowder.  The main question will be whether or not the addition of hushpuppies to the dish will make up for that missing edible bowl. 

I know this for sure, people out here DO NOT KNOW what "Beach Music" is or how to shag (which is a type of dance for y'all not in the know with your minds in the gutter. )  There is an amazing dance called the West Coast Swing which looks amazing but it doesn't have a whole bunch of songs that are made to go with it. 

I know what you're thinkin'.  Here she goes again trying to justify the reason they didn't win the "War of Northern Aggression."  Well, you would be wrong. 

I'm just wonderin what would happen if they divided California in half and let the two different sections fight it out. 

The people in Northern California are a sweater wearing bunch due to the fact that it is cold and foggy when you live near the coast.  So their uniforms would have to be wool and water proof.  Actually, they would have to be made from the wool of free range sheep cause we don't want to make those sheep suffer the embarassment of being hairless.  And we can't use any chemicals to make the wool water repellant, and no red dye number two either.  Okay, so maybe we'll just go with bamboo leaves woven together to cover all of the important body parts. 

So the people in Southern California would all need to have specially altered uniforms so as to cover all of their surgically altered body parts.   And we would need to be sure to affix the proper designer labels to said uniforms, and they need to be appropriately form fitting to account for showing off of aforementioned body parts in their best light. 

Now when it comes time to fightin'  you will need to provide ample warning so that we can give one side time to wind down from the pre-war yoga classes, and the other side time to finish their pre-war stop in the tanning booth. 

And as for the fightin'.  Well it will be more of a contest, really.  There will be the "dis-robing from your wetsuit by the side of the road" timed trials, the "catching the tofu with chopsticks" relay race, and the "identify the offending item for a vegan dinner" competition. 

Eventually both sides will grow tired of the exercise and will head to the closest tatoo parlor for further adornment.