Ruralfication 2

If y’all knows anything about this fancy pants in-ter-net thing called blogging, then sure ‘nuff y’all understands what it means when seeing the pretty blue color on this here word. If y’all don’t know, why’s it means this ain’t the first ol’ tale of mine y’all should be a-reading. Get’s-u-gone over at that other place and reads up.

(If this is your first time here, I assure you that I don’t speak . . . er . . . type like this all the time. Of course, it would be interesting if I did - annoying to me, yet interesting to you. You won’t believe how long it took to shake off the hick accent . . . okay, I’ll get to the second part of this post. Ahem!)

Eh, governor? Would you believe them drunk Yanks piled into the motorcade escorting the Queen? The bullocks on them Americans! Them bloody wankers even asked if she stowed Earl Grey in the trunk and if he drank tea.

Oops! Sorry. Wrong accent.

I know y’all be squirming in pants a-waiting to see what be going on with the rest of my youngling’s memory. Well, shake them ants out ‘cause here be the next part of the tale.

The sun was beaming, the wind was blowing, and I was a-getting all hot. Yet, my body, it had a mind of its own ‘bout not trotting down that scary path with the waving corn leaves in the neighbor’s field.

I could hear me some yelling in the woods yonder. Cher and Billy went all a-hollering with two other peoples. Why’s it took me lickety-split time to rec-o-gnize them voices were to my older sibs: Jeannette and Michael.

Well, I stood there all a-missing out in the fun. Took a deep breath, glared at those weaving green hands of the corn acting like they’d try to drag my body under the dirt for fertilizer, and I built up my waning courage. My sneakers scuffed that ground, getting ready. Then my shoulders just gone give a shrug. I strolled away from that path and headed on down to the driveway.

Now, don’t y’all be saying I was a scaredy-cat for not taking that blasted path. Everyone knows there’s always more’n two choices in any sit-u-ation. Y’all just got to think of it and pick the one y’all most comfortable with that don’t cause no one else any trouble. I picked it. I walked ‘round them fields of corn. I didn’t force myself to go all in, getting the fraidy-shakes halfway and hollering for help. I didn’t interrupt anyone’s play in the woods. I didn’t make my nerves turn into wiggly Jell-O. No harm done.

Sure’n I trotted along that driveway, but I got even hotter before reaching them shade trees.

Y’all got to understand. Us gals, we don’t go sweating like them guys do. It’s not fem-in-ine to have salty water staining our shirts in embarrassing places. We keep it inside and only sweat in private, like in the shower. This why we’s take so long in the bathroom.

Why’s y’all snickering? It’s true. Why’s I swear on my pet muskrat that it be true. Oh, Mama gone done and cooked it? Well, I go and swear on the muskrat burger during suppertime then.

Anyhow, I scampered into that shady cover of trees. Felt ten times cooler as I hiked the trail. I came ‘round to the part where it split, made a type of baseball diamond with two dog houses where first base and third base would be. There ain’t no dogs. Cher and her lil’ brother Billy never had any. Them things just looked like doghouses pretending to be kid’s playhouses.

Stretching along them tree branches in the middle were a twine string. At the end of that string were two large tomato sauce cans. Cher’s pa claimed it was a working tele-o-phone, like how them ancient peoples used in the 1970's to talk on ‘fore the menfolk go all outside with clubs to hunt down them dinosaurs for food.

I don’t think that man’s head was screwed on tight when talking ‘bout dinosaurs in the ‘70s. I knew me from some reading that dinosaurs roamed the land in the 1950's and became ex-tinct by the 1960's when womenfolk started their movement for equal rights so they could vote to go a-hunting ‘cause them big ol’ reptiles made nice fancy-schmancy leather for shoes.

Anyway, why’s I ducked my head under the twine. I headed down the path toward second base where the trail branched off to go back toward the creek. My ears heard them voices getting louder. Then I stopped where the ground went all straight down.

See here. This creek was a good fourteen feet lower from all the reg-u-lar ground. Y’all could either step down on bricks and cross on stepping stones to get to the other side where you climbed up the dirt wall. Or y’all could swing to the other side using a large rope. And this creek, it used to be real shallow - ankle-high to cool y’all toes while watching for swimming toadies. But that ‘fore Billy and my brother got it into their fool heads to build a big ol’ dam farther down the way. They might’en just gone and called it the Hoover Dam ‘cause of how big it was. It was made of twigs and mud with them all working like two big beavers ‘cept neither had bucked teeth.

But I plumb-thought I once saw Billy gnawing on a tree trunk.

So this here creek ain’t no longer ankle-high. With nowhere for the water to go ‘cept for this little chute opening Billy and Mike used to release the pressure when it got too high, it could cover over two tall mens’ heads if one stood on the other’s shoulders. And it was no longer all clear where y’all could watch them toadies. The ongoing dam work made the water all dirty-looking brown.

‘Course, this here didn’t all go stop Cher from jumping on in. She took this running start and grabbed knees to go KER-SPLOOSH as the water all shot up likes a geyser. Then she climbed back out, biggest grin there on her lips with hair changed from sandy blond to dirty blond and leaves a-tangled in it. She dared my sister to do it. Yet our Mama, she had forbidden us from getting all wet in this creek, ‘specially with our clothes still on.

Why’s I walked up and Cher asked if I wanted to go all a-jumping. My finger tapped my chin while I was thinking on how hot I still was with keeping that sweat locked up in my body. And sure ‘nuff that creek water looked nice and cool. I also was thinking on how I had chickened out on taking that path through the corn field.

Now, my older sister and brother, they ain’t daring on going a-swimming. And it looked to both Cher and Billy that they were scaredy-cats. If I went and jumped all in that water, I’d be cool in both my body and their minds. Even if later I got the fraidy-shakes when taking the corn path and hollered for help, none of them could go teasing me ‘cause I had been brave ‘nuff to dive into that creek water despite my Mama’s words.

Yessir! With Jeannette and Mike’s mouths all hanging open, I took a mighty leap, still clothed, into that creek. Grabbed my knees and felt the air whistling past my ears until my KER-SPLOOSH. I had my eyes closed when going under. I didn’t like having them open to the water even in the shower. It was at that moment when I remembered something.

I don’t swim, ‘least I don’t swim well. Could do me a lil’ doggie-paddle, though. So while underneath that dirty water I pumped my hands and legs under my body hoping to reach the creek wall ‘fore I used up all my good air in lungs. I knew in my mind I neared it so I had no worries.

That when I felt something slithering along the bridge of my nose.
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Enough! I’s needs me, er, I need a break. Come ‘round for the ending . . . return for the final part on Wednesday.

Y’all hears?

Please?