pages: My poor, poor future family..

So I've been thinking a lot about Pioneer Day lately.

Yep.
It stemmed from a book I visually inhaled yesterday, Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls, I highly recommend it if you, like me, are in love with American lit and secretly wish you grew up on a ranch in some hidden valley in the hills before America was so gay. I mean, come on. John Steinbeck and I could have had some great times together. Unfortunately for me, I was born in Visalia in the 90s, and never learned the necessary survival skills to live that lifestyle...but damned if I won't learn to ride a horse before I die! (If anyone wants in on that, let me know. I'm not above taking lessons with like 4 year old little girls who are better than me.) Moral of the story is, this book made me feel like such a little overprivileged turd. And made me feel like American culture was actually fantastic before it turned to a big steaming pile of shit.

So obviously, the conclusion I came to was that if ever one day in the far distant future I have a child and family, and don't yet live in a tiny secluded valley with a one room schoolhouse and post office/jailhouse, we are going to have Pioneer Days where I deprive them of all things newfangled and fancy-schmancy and make them churn butter and wear bonnets and the like. Ok maybe not that extreme. But probably something equally infuriating to us modern folk. It will definitely involve kerosene lamps and peeing in the backyard.
[In elementary school, our teacher made all the girls wear curlers in our hair for Pioneer Day and we weren't allowed to use any form of electricity or technology for the entire day. I think I cried because of how retarded I looked with those curlers in. I know I cried. And I'd like to think that pioneer women were too busy walking across a continent with covered wagon in tow to worry about curling their hair, so that will officially NOT be involved in my day.]

Anyway, I felt I needed to share this. Don't marry me if you ain't down to churn some butta.
There's me and my future child.
Loadin' up the ol' wheelbarrow.