Thems just the facts, Cletus!
I hope you are well and in good spirits. If not, why? Whatcha doing? Figure it out, y'all. Burning daylight, Pops.
On the other hand, feeling fabulous? Hats off to you. Nothing pleases me more. I want EVERYONE to feel that way. And I mean EVERYONE.
Today's post is about hillbilly honesty.
I hope you will process the information, understand the situation, and find a little inspiration along the way. I'm also going to discuss changing, taking the piss, and becoming Frenchified.
Read time: 7 minutes
Having arrived on French soil, oh some seven years ago, I had stars in my eyes and was under a spell because I had expectations of how things SHOULD be.
Listen, we all have expectations of how things SHOULD BE, but we SHOULD BE smart enough to KNOW how things REALLY ARE.
The French have a lovely expression: C'est comme ça. Basically it translates to, the way things are or, it's like that.
Living in a foreign country that is not your own is hard.
For whatever reason, (and frankly none of your business) generations upon generations have moved their little strong but fragile bodies across the Earth, in search of something better, a new life, for them and their families.
It takes a certain something to be able to adapt to another country full of etiquette, customs, traditions, and history. Common sense would be to educate oneself on your new surroundings... but, and sadly, if only common sense was as common as herpes.
Because of the French, I have changed. I don't know if it is for better or worse, but like any commitment, we must adapt, be patient, attempt to understand and pick our battles. I have shed many of tears my first few years on French soil. These bastards have gone out of their way to insult me, scream at me, discriminate against me, all based on how I look and sound?! F THAT! They picked the battle, but, we all know who's going to win the war. THE AMERICAN.
So, again, I changed. And I've learned the beautiful art of French fighting.
French people go out of their way to remark on stupidity, which they call it debating. Mostly it's being really bitchy.... which Welcome to My Ranch, I know how to call the pigs home, and I do know how to hogtie. Thems just the facts, Cletus.
Don't get me wrong, I am a LOVER, NOT A FIGHTER, however, I feel France has also made me more of a fighter, than a lover. It just depends on the day.
I also find that I will go out of my way to take the piss, which come to think of it, IS VERY FRENCH of me! Frenchified for Life, yo!
(To take the piss is British slang. It means to take the time to piss someone off, effortlessly. I think, anyway, I'm not British.)
When I am feeling overwhelmed and JEN-ocidal (genocidal) I reach out for help from my Las Vegas friends. THEY GET IT! So, please permit me to share some words of wisdom. Shani says: Be old enough to know better.
Shut up, Shani!
his brings me to Hillbilly Honesty.
Ever since I was a kid, I have KNOWN to trust a hillbilly, to not cross a hillbilly, and best believe a hillbilly. Why? I have no idea, just a belief, like believing the sky is the color blue. Uh, maybe the sky's name is Sharon and identifies as something we can't possibly understand. What the hell does my hillbilly ass know?!
I've been called a hillbilly, actually, it was "hilly-billy" but instead of stinging, as was its intention, I was proud.
Two possibilities: I don't respond appropriately to things (you wouldn't either if you'd grown up with a Texas/Las Vegas education) Second possibility: My belief in the GOOD of hillbillies.
The term Hillbilly may evoke negative emotions in you, but let's take the time to define what a hillbilly is. Billy/Bill is short for William, basically it means 'William from the Hills'. Like, famous hillbilly, William Wallace, the Highland Scotsman, for example.
I feel a hillbilly is someone noble, who lives in harmony and respects Mother Nature, they are ONE with the hills. They take only what may be needed. They are kind. Welcoming. Helpful. Strong. Fierce. Observant. Confident. Capable.
They are our frontiersman and woman, past and present: Sacagawea, Davy Crockett, John Chapman, otherwise known as Johnny Appleseed, Stagecoach Mary Fields, Marie Dorion, Jon C Fremont, and Kit Carson, to name a few.
Hillbillies are Survialists. They will do whatever it takes, all bets are off! And like Mother Nature, Hillbillies can be brutal, exact, and a force to reckon with, but c'est comme ca!
Hillbillies are our ancestors. We are them and they are us. We are ONE. They are our true selves. And besides, EVERYBODY has SOMEBODY in their family named William. Even the Queen of England.
So say it loud, say it proud: I AM A HILLBILLY!
Embrace the Hillbilly! Be a Hillbilly! Vive le Hillbilly!
This summer, the family vacationed in the Pyrenees Mountains. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I YODELED, and also sang the verse, 'The Hillszzz are alive with the sound of music!' because I could!)
Waking up in St Lary was wondrous! It was so magical to be surrounded by such beauty. I woke up everyday to the sound of the nearby babbling brook, trees showing off their summer hues of green, and the smell of the mountains... the sweetest of perfumes!
On top of that, EVERYBODY there was so kind, sweet, natural - NORMAL! Do you know why? Because they live in the hills! Helllloo!!?!!! It's what I've been writing about!
They reminded me of little Hobbits! (The Hobbit/ Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien) Interested in only being happy, making things grow, smoking the good weed, drinking, dancing, living... and when called upon, they lead the pack to protect the world. Hobbits are fictional hillbillies, as is Aragon, the Ranger.
When life seems to get the better of us for whatever reason, (more than likely it's about how annoyed you are at your kids and partner) we may sometimes yell into the void and threaten to run away and hide, forever! For a brief moment, the idea of hiding out in caves, or running to the hills, or joining the circus, or moving in with the Gypsies, satisfies, but also quells our desires to do anything rash.
When we feel this "pull" to run for the hills, I feel it is our TRUE SELVES telling us the solution to all our problems. Our inner hillbilly wants to feel the grass between our toes and to breathe sweet non polluted air.
SO HEAD FOR THE HILLS!
Am I saying, dump the family, and let the chips fall where they may? - SURE, only if you can live peacefully with that decision, and trust me, you probably can. Humans have been doing that since time immemorial. No judgement from me, do what you must. Rather, what I am actually suggesting is that YOU go for a nature walk, breathe in the fresh air, and just listen to Mother Nature. That seems more doable, yes?
My little family goes for a walk everyday, more than once day. We have a dog, she needs outdoor time. We take care of ourselves and each other and attempt to do more of the activities that make us happy. When we are happy and feeling good, there is no room for arguments or squabbles, and if there is, it usually ends abruptly as it starts. I feel are happy citybillies. And when you are happy, well it's contagious, and makes me less likely to be feisty. But life has a way of throwing curve balls, so one must also be agile enough to move out of the way and avoid being hit. Thems just the facts, Cletus.
With that said, have a good one and head for the hills, y'all.
Take care of yourselves and live long and prosper.
PS. To yodel, just sing: "Little old lady who!"
Bonjour et Bienvenue!
Thank you for stopping by for a spell!
I am a 40-something year old American woman. Born in Texas, raised in Las Vegas!
Frenchified for Life
is a fabulous little lifestyle blog about truly embracing French life!
My intent is to simply inspire you to create something unique and beautiful in your everyday life. The French have this wonderful and annoying habit of seeing the world through rose colored glasses, might as well learn something from them!
That said, I lift my glass to you!
By the way, I mention the name Cachou (or The Cash) a lot, I'm referring to her...