I go through periods of being quite consumed with Addie, The Original Pioneer Woman. I want to be her. I want to sell eggs to Indians and pour chicken blood over my asparagus plants. Here she is in a formal portrait.
Yeah, well, I had a formal portrait made once, too. Just like Addie.
Okay, so maybe I'm a little more smiley than she was. A little more toothy? A little more gregarious and sanguine and frivolous. My mom once accused me of being on Ecstasy in college because I looked so manic in all my party pics.
That's Addie in the back row, middle. Gosh, she was rawwwther serious, wasn't she?
Man, her whole family was rawwwther serious. Check out her mama. Dang, woman, I know you've got seven sucklings to wrassle, but let's see a little GRIN from time to time. And check out that little guy on the bottom right. Smile, dude. And the world smiles with you.
Okay, so we don't have the same general picture-posing philosophy. But just like me, Addie had four kids.
And by golly, they're rawwwther serious, too! Except that little turkey in the front there. He shows some promise.
Addie and Fred actually had six children. Two of them died when they were toddlers. I can't even comprehend that level of sadness.
But I do have four kids. They're suckers.
Sigh. Here's Addie again. I think I love her.
Sometimes I wonder things. I wonder if she ever looked at her laundry pile and said "Aw, Shit." I wonder if she ever burped out loud just to make her children laugh. I wonder what she did for cramps? (Sorry, men, but these things cross a fertile woman's mind.)
Addie was known for never turning away a person in need. Hobos, as they were called, used to regularly show up on Addie's doorstep. She cooked them hot, delicious meals: fried chicken, corn pudding, mashed potatoes with cream gravy, sliced tomatoes from her garden. Apparently, Addie's name and a map to her house were scrawled on water tanks all over the area, and hobos knew they could count on her to be fed.
Oh, yeah? Well, one time, a hobo and his girlfriend showed up on my doorstep at 12:30 a.m. They'd been drinking and had had a car accident about a mile from our house. I instinctively grabbed the gun and parked myself near the stairs that led to my children's bedrooms because I was a victim of a violent crime once and I lived in L.A. for five years and pretty much consider everyone a potential axe murderer. My fearless husband, meanwhile, loaded the wayward, schnockered souls into our brand new Suburban and drove them twenty minutes to the nearest town. All the time he was gone, I was certain my love would be knifed or shot and the hobos would turn around and return to my house to spread ketchup on my calves and eat me for dinner.
Fortunately, my grisly fears were never realized and Marlboro Man made it home safe and sound. But not before the hobo's girlfriend peed all over the entire back seat of our Suburban during the ride to town. So much for New Car Smell.
You think Addie ever had to deal with THAT? Who's the Pioneer Woman NOW?