Gone Country

Perhaps you’re a fan of the country music?

 

I am. Well, I should clarify. I was a hard-listener of country music from the Garth Brooks-era up until I got married. Then, sadly, I must report I married a man who thought ska was more intriguing to the ear than steel guitar.

 

For the sake of marital harmony, we agreed to disagree and compromised on the contemporary Christian music station. It gives us the opportunity to mock the songs of the 80s and to sing along with worship songs we love.

 

(We recently discovered we have a crush on Chris Tomlin. I said I would have his love child, then realized that’s not only wrong, but extraordinarily wrong within the context of religious music, became sheepish, and said no more about love children.)

 

Tonight we drove to the Big City and listened to country music all the way. I have a few observations.

 

First, Taylor Swift is not country. I don’t know what genre she falls into, but it’s not country.

 

Second, there are a lot of songs about drinking alcohol on the country music station.

 

I never noticed this because I never had children while listening, but I am now a tad bit concerned I’m going to hear one of the absolutely not-of-drinking-age children burst out in songs of adoration toward fermented beverages.

 

“California’s full of women, whiskey, and gold…”

 

” So bring me two pina coladas, one for each hand…”

 

“So it’s, one round with Jose Cuervo… “

 

“Red Solo cup I fill you up…”

 

(I have a vision of my almost-five-year-old Dos visiting California, dancing freely in a corner, burping softly and falling to the ground, spilling the pina colada out of her red Solo cup. Her older, six-year-old sister, sitting somber and severe on a barstool with a pyramid of shot glasses in front of her, muttering about the alcohol content in Cuervo and whether the gold in the bottle of Goldschlager could be recycled for profit.)

 

(This is why I tell the girls I feed them coffee so they never grow up. I already have scary visions of them as children. Why would I ever be ok with them growing up?!)

 

Anyway, the real point of my story tonight is that we listened to country music on the way to the Big City and it made me happy. It also made me think of the song, “Gone Country”:

 

She’s gone country, look at them boots
She’s gone country, back to her roots
She’s gone country, a new kind of suit
She’s gone counrty, here she comes

 

Not too long ago I had a dilemma of whether I could pull off wearing a really comfortable pair of cowboy boots. (I still haven’t pulled the trigger on that purchase.)

 

This weekend we have immersed ourselves in the lore of rabbitry.

 

I grew up in a basically self-sustaining family. We were self-sustaining before it was trendy to be self-sustaining. We simply didn’t have extra money.

 

We wore homemade clothes. We raised livestock for food. Had a garden. Conserved on fuel costs. My parents raised goats because the volume of milk production was more manageable than for a cow.

 

I grew up and went to college. Living in residence halls for the last decade of my life while working in student affairs really cramped my ability to live a life with a deeper understanding of the food chain.

 

That’s starting to change. I’m going country, back to my roots.

 

We’re looking into raising rabbits. I would say we’re pretty committed to the idea, we just have to get the hutches ready and we’ll be off into the realm of meat production.

 

There’s a decent chance I’ll be posting about the rabbits before too long… including the random facts I never realized. For example, do you know one pair of breeding meat rabbits produces up to 300 lbs. of meat annually on a well-managed breeding schedule?

 

300 lbs.?! I feel like I’m on the Oregon Trail! Next thing you know I’ll be shooting at the eagle trying to carry Bubby away and nursing Tres through dysentary.

 

But at least we’ll be near California. Because we’re all about the women, whisky, and gold in this family!

 

Do you have any experience with raising livestock?