Crazy Country Convos.

More tales of my Labor Day Jaunt in the country.

Cowgirl Cre has the most uh, colorful relatives.

One of them is the most colorful of all...

We'll call her cousin Cre.

Anyway, when I attend a Cowgirl Cre family gathering, I make a beeline for Cousin Cre. She is my prime entertainment, and through her, I've gained a special understanding...

One should always have one's special cup for one's adult beverage.

And she has one indeed.

I took the picture above at a Memorial Day gathering, I believe. I'd walked up on her in the driveway. I caught a whiff of what was in that glass.

Let's just say, it looked like water, but it ain't water. It was a strong adult beverage.

VERY strong.

Now when I went down to the country this past Saturday, she wasn't there upon my arrival. Someone said she and an uncle and another cousin had gone to someone's birthday party.

She came back within a couple of hours. I saw her strolling across the yard. She spotted us all - me, my sister, and Cowgirl Cre- sitting at a picnic table under a tree. She wore a sarong-type dress and it was whipping in the wind.

She walked over...

Peered at me curiously...

No, she glared at me...

She asked, "Did you brang some cookies?"

"Yes I did. 12 dozen, and they in the kitchen," I said, as I pointed back towards the trailer.

Her face broke out into a big smile and she gave me a hug. Thank goodness for that. If I hadn't brought cookies, I would've gotten cussed out and tackled...

And cussed out a little more for good measure.

I introduced her to my sister, and we all talked for a minute.

"Did you bring your cup?" I asked.

"You know I did, girl!"

And bring it she did.



As you can see, it is her special cup. Her initials are clear, and printed in the King's Old English script.

I learned from her that every cup should have it's own special cup jewelry.



The cup jewelry - it was a charm bracelet of sorts. Not sure what each charm represents. That's a conversation for another day, another time.

Cousin OJ tried to talk me into having a drink with her. Her drink was some vodka, with some lemon or lime juice in it (we think).

I looked over at my sister, who is the quietest person on planet earth. She was watching our exchange.

I MUST be a good example for my sister, so I said no.

(NO way I'd get to dranking and my sister Kentucky relay this back to the family).

I respectively declined. Cousin Cre gave me the hard side-eye, but she didn't pursue the matter.

Later the conversation turned to making a run of sorts...

A run down to, uh... Johnnie Mae's house.

"Lee, you want to run down to Johnnie-Mae's house with us?" Cousin Cre asked.

I stared at Cousin Cre as she took a sip of her strong drink from her special glass.

Johnnie-Mae was special. She owned a bootleg house. If you don't know what that is, then figure it out. There is one right behind my house. I'll have to post a picture one day.

But Johnnie-Mae's bootleg business was EXTRA special and over the top.

Let's just say, it was a place where you could go see the MOON, and how it SHINES so brightly.

(That is all I'm saying on that. If you don't understand that, then you must be very young or a bit slow or not from the south).

I've only had this "special" libation once in my life: A capful in my cola some 15 years ago. I wasn't drunk, but it had me SUPER chatty, to the point where my man threatened to put me out of the house.

It was cold that day. I remember being crouched in a corner, crying uncontrollably, afraid of being put out in the cold dark night....

Nope. I don't fool with the special libations, this liquor that looks like the MOON when it SHINE.

But I must admit, I got a bit excited about this run to Johnnie Mae's house. Because if I could get in there, I could take pictures! It would make a most excellent blog post!

But I looked over at my sister Kentucky.

Who was looking right back at me.

"She's not gonna go with you," Kentucky said. "Ya'll will get to the top of the street and she'll say 'Stop the car, let me out'. She's not going with you."

My sister... she knows me well.

But I played it off. "Na'wl Cousin Cre. I ain't fooling with ya'll. Get up there and some mess jump off. Ya'll be done left me, I'd get locked up and nobody will know where I am!"

My sister repeated her former statement. "She's not going with you. If she did, she'll get out the car up at the top of the street and walk back."

"And I have to be a good example for my sister," I added.

Cousin Cre looked my sister up and down then back at me. "What are you talking about, your sister- she grown."

Yes, Kentucky is 29 years old. I still think of her as being 3 years old. She did not need to see me making a run to Johnnie Mae's house.

Plus ya'll know good and well that no one's gonna let me take a picture in a house where the MOON SHINES so brightly.

I had visions of my camera being snatched and being thrown to the ground and smashed into a million pieces. I also had visions of the polices throwing me down on the ground and handcuffing me.

And not to mention we were in the backwoods, in Klan country. The old folks had been peppering their conversations with cross burnings references all day.

*crickets*

No, I didn't go with them. Didn't see them go. I sat there and drank my bottled water and orange soda...

And was happy.

Cowgirl Cre said the frozen drinks were very good, and quite shiny the next day.

I'm sure they were...

I bet Cousin Cre can testify to that.