Treasures of a Redneck Christmas

As I was wrapping Christmas presents yesterday I thought of this blog and the fact that I had neglected it for the past month. But you know, there is a lot to do before Christmas, and blogging, quite honestly, had slipped my mind. I had too many other things to think about, like what size shot John needed the most and how much of it would fit in his stocking without pulling it off of the mantel. Of course the conclusion was to put the empty shells, for reloading, in the stocking and wrap the heavy shot to put under the tree.

I found perfect wrapping paper last Christmas, so I bought quite a bit of it. I hope I can find something similar when this runs out. Not everyone has gifts that look like they have been wrapped in a duck blind. Of course for variety, I also picked up some John Deere paper with Santa driving an antique tractor through the snow. If you also grabbed several rolls of these last year at your local Walmart, you know what that means, right? You are either a redneck, and proud of it - or married to one and know how much he will appreciate the true style beneath the tree.

Well, with the wrapping done I decided to share with you a few tips for a perfect redneck Christmas.

1. A Christmas tree is not complete without at least one John Deere Tractor and a couple of well placed deer ornaments.

2. Unless you can put a 4wd pickup under the tree, acceptable gifts include, ammunition (be sure to check the caliber), a new shotgun or rifle, a camouflage ice chest, a mounted jackalope trophy, duck calls, accessories for his boat or pickup, NASCAR tickets and cast iron cookware. (of course you will be the one to use this the most, but he'll appreciate his vittles bein' fixed in the right pan). If you decide to give clothing, you should look for heavy flannel shirts, long underwear and warm socks.

John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson DVDs make great stocking stuffers. My hubby likes the hunting and fishing DVDs too, but make sure they are redneck made and not some city dude that decided to open a guide service for other city dudes.

You can never go wrong with a Cabella's or Bass Pro Shops gift card. Yes, I said gift card. Unless you absolutely know what he wants, he will appreciate being able to pick it himself. When it comes to hunting and fishing gear, what one man loves another loathes, so don't take any chances. Plus, the gift card gives him an excuse to go all the way to the city to shop, if you're lucky your nearest location is close to an outlet mall or new shopping center and you can ride along. Just don't ask him to shop with you. No worries - he will be perfectly happy to drop you off and you will have plenty of time while he browses the bargain cave in search of the perfect redneck treasure.

3. Don't get too fancy with Christmas dinner. Smoked pheasant, duck or other game birds are fine. You can't go wrong with ham or even a nice brisket. It's just the side dishes that kind of drive him crazy. Mashed taters with gravy, vegetable dishes with normal descriptions, like casserole or pickled work well. For dessert a pecan pie, from scratch is highly recommended.

4. He will probably go hunting if the geese are flying, so be ready to kiss him goodbye at sunrise. It's a great way to start the tradition of letting the kids get you out of bed at 4:00 a.m. on Christmas morning. They are happy because they have been laying awake for an hour anyway. He is happy because he gets to go hunting and YOU are happy because you have the rest of the morning without interruption to get things ready for Christmas dinner.

I hear my redneck man creeping down the stairs, so I am gonna run get breakfast for him before he heads out in the cold. I'm not even sure what season it is, but I'm sure some critter or other will be finding it's way to our table this week. I will share the rest of the redneck Christmas tips over the next three days. Don't forget to watch for our complete menu and photos from a redneck Christmas day.

Be Blessed,

Pamela

Lessons from an Easter Ham

They say you always go back to your roots. I always thought that was only true for people that grew up near those roots. I guess not. I grew up in suburbia. Our idea of the country was driving to the lake and camping...in a travel trailer with only one bathroom.

We lived within walking distance of the mall, although we never walked. Except one time in sixth grade when my friend Johnna and I walked the mile and a half to shop without permission. We were in big trouble when my mom found out. Walking that distance was far too dangerous.

I know how to hale a downtown taxi, ride a city bus and toss coins in the toll booth without coming to a complete stop. I know which fork to start with, which to end with and what to do with foods like escargot and calamari.

Growing up, I never thought I would embrace the roots that my parents had left 1800 miles behind us before I was even a year old. Stories of farm life, hunting and dirt roads were distant memories for them and fairytales to me.

Then I met John “Redneck” Sonnenmoser. Happily, my life changed and over the next several years my sophisticated life evolved into the freedom that comes with simplicity and the peace that is found in a walk through the woods.

Of course, I have learned a lot of lessons as a redneck's bride. One of them involves a request for an Easter Ham, a spring pig and a less than happy butcher's wife.

I was planning Easter dinner for my husband’s huge family and asked him to stop by the butcher and pick up a ham while he was in town. When I pulled into our driveway from work there was a very odd looking cage on the back of his pick-up. As I got closer I noticed that there was a rather large hog in the cage. I asked him if he was planning to take the hog to the butcher the next morning, but he said, “No, you are.” Knowing nothing about hogs, I was a bit nervous but he assured me all I had to do was get it there and the butcher would do the rest. He was wrong.

The butcher didn't have the type of load-out used for a pick-up and a hog is not in the habit of leaping from the tailgate. So, we pushed, we pulled, we tried to lure our little piggy with some nice scraps from the butcher's own table. Nothing worked. We tried to chase him off the truck and down a makeshift ramp we made by removing the tailgate and leaning it sideways from the truck's bed. But, the hog seemed to have a much higher degree of stubbornness than our clever plan could outwit and he stopped on a dime at the very edge of the truck.

The butcher's wife was growing impatient with our delima and with the city girl who had been sent to deliver the hog. "Didn't you know you needed ramps?" she asked in an ever so accusatory voice.

She must have noticed I was close to tears because she quickly added that she was going to give my husband "what for" the next time she saw him. "He should have taken care of this for you," she said in a newly sympathetic tone.

It took over an hour of failed attempts to separate the hog from his comfortable stance in the pick-up, including the use of a cattle prod, before we gave up. "I think I have a rifle behind the seat," I said in the most brave, country-girl voice I could muster.

Our butcher must have seen the queasiness in my eyes. The thought of trying to shoot an animal was bad enough, having to miss the gas tank and bystanders made it an overwhelming task.

"Well, I can shoot it off the truck," he said as if it were the most incredible idea either of us had ever had.

His wife and I went into the office to start writing our order. Moments later the hog was hanging in his shop. And I had chalked up life lesson number 485: If you are a carnivore, your meat was not always wrapped neatly in plastic and on display at the grocery store.

I was not very happy about our ham by the time it was over. In fact, it was a good thing John wasn't home when I got home or the second most heated argument of our marriage might have ensued. (The first was about margarine, I'll tell that story another time)

While I was fuming over the whole pork problem, God showed me the wisdom in John's redneck thinking. For nearly the same price we would have paid for a fancy ham we had several meals worth of pork chops, ribs, roasts, bacon and yes, ham. He was providing more for our family than I had asked for or imagined and all it required of me was a little trip out of my comfort zone.

I had to submit my thoughts of a honey-baked, spiral-sliced ham to his thoughts of filling the freezer with meat. It was not a cruel joke on his city girl wife, but entrusting part of the provision God had given him to his redneck bride.

When John came home that night, I threw my arms around his neck and thanked him for being such a great provider. Then, I lightly punched him in the arm and relayed the dramatic saga in detail...the butcher, the butcher's wife, a cattle prod and a redneck's bride.

Oh...and the angry butcher's wife...took pity on this city girl, becoming a dear friend and sharing our love for writing.

Ouch..that had to hurt

Sometimes city folks romanticize the redneck life. They jump into it without first learning the things that redneck guys call common sense. Things like the distance a rifle scope should remain from the bridge of ones nose...

Check out this video to see what I mean.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BGC8Tpa99E

The Time of the Great Hunt

It is the time of the great hunt that will feed farm families through cold winter months.

Deer season.

That means my wonderful hunter gatherer husband, is heading to his tree stands in search of the perfect buck or doe. Of course the thirty point buck would be the ultimate prize, but the freezer doesn't much care what the deer was before it met zip-lock bags.

This morning as I got ready for church, John was loading his hunting pack with shells and stuff that makes him smell like a rank animal in the forest. He was cammo from head to toe, layered, of course, with fluorescent orange. Rifle slung over his back, he slipped out the front door before I could hug him. My scent would apparently mess up the hunt completely, so there is no contact allowed once he is ready to hit the forest.

After church I made chili, a must on cold fall evenings, but we won't see him for supper until well into the night. Hunting is forbidden after sundown, but the good ol' boys will gather at some shanty or other to tell their tales of the buck that got away and to complain about the city folk that make it tough to hunt on our own land.

I keep saying I am going to join the hunt some day. I have even purchased my deer tag. It sounds like so much fun. Being out in the woods with nature, tracking the animal through its own habitat, bringing food home. I know it would bother some gals... the whole idea of shooting Bambi is too much for their sensitivities. And the idea of dressing out an animal sends them running for a bucket. I am actually okay with that. I have helped John field dress his deer.

So what stops me from donning my own cammo and orange?

• Cold rainy days



• Walking for miles for nothing



• The thought of chasing the deer once it's shot then dragging a 300 pound animal back to civilization



• Tics that haven't quite disappeared because we haven't had a hard freeze

The list could go on, but mostly it's because this is John's thing. I like it because I love him. I have tried to be the redneck chick that would be his perfect match. But honestly, that 's not who he married.

He fell in love with a city girl. He was happy that I didn't match is redneck world, but, for him, added light to his life with the things I offered. He loves the fact that I can prepare his deer with gormet flair even if I didn't shoot it.

I embrace the culture as much as I embrace the cultured.

I am a redneck's bride, but I am not so much a redneck.

Come on girls...let's go shopping.

For the Redneck's Bride

What's a city girl to do when she marries the ultimate redneck guy? Don't worry, be happy, once the simple life takes hold she will learn that contentment is easy in rural America. Glitter only sparkles for so long, but the stars in a southern sky will twinkle like bright lights never will.

There are a few things she will need to know right away.

The top ten advantages to being married to a Redneck

1. You never have to worry about going hungry. If it moves he’ll shoot it.

2. You never have to iron his clothes. Flannel is pretty much wash –n-wear.

3. You don’t have to worry about leftovers. One of the dozen-plus dogs will take care of them.

4. You always know what he wants for his birthday. Shotgun shells of any size will do.

5. You know never have to fight him for time in front of the mirror.

6. He always has a pocket knife handy when you need one.

7. When he says he is late because he was stuck in the mud you know it’s the truth.

8. He can fix anything, and if he can’t he will rig it up until it works.

9. He is happy when you go to dinner or a movie with the girls. It saves him the torture.

10. When he vowed to love you forever he meant it. If anything changes he’ll let you know.


The top ten disadvantages to being married to a Redneck.

1. You can’t be sure of the identity of the meat he brought in for dinner, but it tastes like chicken.

2. Dinner and a movie consists of a trip to the Cabella’s snack bar and a hunting video.

3. You receive expensive gifts for your birthday, like the rifle scope he’s been dreaming about.
4. His idea of dressing up to go out means putting on a clean flannel shirt.

5. If he loses something and you can’t find it; you lost it.

6. You have to be careful when you clean out the refrigerator so that you don’t accidentally toss his stink bait.

7. His ability to tell time is relative to his activity. If he “ain’t doin nuthin” It will take him a lot longer than if he “has stuff to do”. Don’t call out the bloodhounds for a few more hours.

8. Household jobs are separated into categories. Woman’s work and work that can be done by anyone…so you might as well do it.

9. He hunts to save money on meat, but spends $250.00 on decoys so he can shoot three geese.

10. His idea of a gift that sparkles is a new fishing lure.


So, sit back, relax, order satelite internet and remember that you can still get to Macy's if you shop on line.

Blessing and joy my Redneckbride sistas...we are in this ride together!