01 July, 2013

PIG-SKIN SHOES


Life as innkeepers in the north Georgia mountains continues to be a pleasure for John and me. After four years I am evolving into a Mountain Woman. (Had a bit of a leg up as my grandmother was a beautiful Cherokee woman from Dahlonega.)

There's a definite learning curve however. When John and I went to get our Georgia drivers licenses after moving here from Charlotte we were delighted at the short line at the DMV. We sat and waited our turns. The room was small so we could, without trying, hear the conversation of the two people ahead of us.

"Jack needs new shoes to show his pig," I heard a woman say to the man beside her. After the two left I asked John "Why do you think a pig cares about a kid's shoes?"

My small town education began as a smiling (okay, she was laughing at me) photographer explained that Jack was a member of the Future Farmers of America and the pig, his project, would be shown in a porcine competition on Saturday evening. I replied "Oh," or something equally dorky.

I believe my face is a little red on my Georgia driver's license.

Dale

No comments:

Post a Comment