Yeah, I Married A Redneck, So What?

I know that every woman out there thinks to themselves from time to time, “I wonder what it’s like it to be married to a redneck?” It’s okay, don’t be ashamed, that’s what I’m here for. Sit down on this here stump, pop open a Coors Light, open a bag of pork rinds and let me share my world with you.

I knew what I was getting into; I won’t try to sugar coat it. I met him at a country western bar. He was wearing Wranglers, a cowboy hat and boots. What can I say?
First of all, our lives growing up couldn’t have been more different. I spent my summers swimming at the Country Club. He grew up in a bar. I had a sister who was a cheer leader; he had three brothers who shot each other with BB guns. My mother stayed home and took care of her family. His mother once stabbed him with a fork when he reached across the table. My father sold insurance, his father was an over the road truck driver. At 13 years old I made “spending” money by babysitting; he made “cigarette” money shooting pool at various bars.


Here’s a glimpse into my life:


1) Every Sunday afternoon is spent in front of the TV watching Nascar. GO #48!

2) Fixing muck-a-muck at least once a week. This is a culinary delight! Cook 1 box of Kraft macaroni and cheese (the blue box) as directed, mix in 1 can of cream of mushroom soup and 1 can of tuna. Extry good vittles! (He says I make it just like Mama made it)

3) The only station we listen to in his Chevy 2500HD is Blue Collar Comedy.

4) On our honeymoon we went to Oatman to pet the donkeys.

5) Listening to my husband talk for hours about how he’s going to fix up his bass boat.

6) I collect Fiestaware and vintage aprons, he collects shot glasses and fishing lures. I display mine, he is not allowed chooses not to.

7) Every once in a while something comes out of his mouth that would make Larry the Cable Guy blush.

8) I’ve made emergency runs to the grocery store for bacon and bologna more times than I can count

9) Our DVR is overflowing with episodes of Walker Texas Ranger.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we have a broken fridge on the front porch, a car parked on our lawn or have our house decorated with free beer or cigarette merchandise (although that’s not by his choice). But let me tell you something else about my husband, he is the kindest, sweetest man I’ve ever known. He would do anything in the world for me. He tells me I’m beautiful and that he loves me every day. He still holds my hand while we watch television. When his friends say something mean about their wives, he looks them straight in the eye and tells them how lucky he is to have me. I love my gentle giant!

My husband doesn’t read my blog. He doesn’t know what a blog is so I don’t have to worry about where I’m going to sleep tonight.

Holly

xxx-ooo