Hipster, Vegan, Redneck, Bohemian, huh?

I love to read blogs.  Have since I had a livejournal account way back in the day.  I had a livejournal account when you had to get an invite from someone who was already a member. 

I'm positively geriatric. 

It's amazing the types of bloggers there are out there, but it seems to me that a lot, not all, fall into that hipster, thick glasses wearing, secretly listen to Taylor Swift's "22" (hey, you know you dance around like a lunatic when that song comes on too. Guilty pleasure? I think so) , and seem to own every vintage crinoline known to man. They are vegans that only eat locally organic produce, have chickens in the backyard, and home school their children. They are all about the urban homesteading movement, bake their own bread, and turn their compost bins once a week. They sew the entirety of their wardrobes, and take shoe cobbling classes at night. I could go on.

And in the words of the immortal Seinfeld, "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

But, it's exhausting. There's no way I could ever keep up with half of what some seem to do. And while I admire them, love what they do (why else would I read their blogs, really?), they are not me.

I've tried to find some bloggers out there like me. Either my google-foo is failing me or they aren't out there. Looks like I'll just have to forge my own path.

What am I then? Definitely not vegan. I grew up on a farm raising beef cattle. I love steak. I don't see anything earth shattering about "urban homesteading" because that's just how I grew up. It didn't have a specific name back then it was just "life." I grew up eating home raised eggs and beef and chicken and fish we caught out of our ponds. We raised vegetables, canned said vegetables, slept under handmade quilts, and wore handmade clothes before the internet made it cool. I could go on.

I was blessed to grow up around both sets of my grandparents and several of my great-grandparents. Throw in a couple of great aunts and uncles. They were around during the Great Depression and World War II. I know how to do stuff that my friends are constantly amazed I know how to do. Doesn't everyone know how to can pickles, sew, make biscuits, put patches in blue jeans, etc.?

What am I then?

I guess I'm a little like Ruby Thewes, Renee Zelweger's character from Cold Mountain.  ( I was told one time in college I was like her and honestly it's probably the truth, though I would rather be Scarlet O'Hara - on second thought I'll stick with Ruby.)  I can cook, hunt, doctor, whatever needs doing.  I get stuff done.  ( That sounds incredibly country, but oh well.  I am what I am.)

I'm also a gypsy and artist at heart and would rather be roaming the back roads taking pictures than home cleaning, probably the only thing I miss from the pre-baby days.  Those days will be back soon enough.

Then there's the large part of my heart that's cowgirl.  Tough, independent, romantic, horse-riding woman that's more at home in the saddle than anywhere.  Horses don't care if you're introverted, they don't talk much either. 

I'm also a momma (poor child, she's either going to think I'm the coolest momma ever, or the wierdest momma ever), wife, and daughter. 

I'm my own person.  Just like you my friend.  And you know what?  We're awesome. 

Hope your day is beautiful as always my lovely.  Until next time. 



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