I'm Just a Bug on The Windshield of Love

Ok, I was fine right up to:

"Before she runs away,
like a fast little filly,
she's a five alarm fire,
a hot bowl of chili,
and she's burning a hole,
in this hillbilly,
and I can't let her get away."

We have Internet Radio, and lately Scooby has taken to selecting the 'genre' each morning.

We've had soothing New Age days, light-hearted Hawaiian days, bouncy African days, misty Celtic days, Rock & Roll days, happy Reggae days and we've spent a lot of time listening to Didgeridoos.

The last two days in a row, she has requested Country Music.

Now, I was raised on a 100 acre farm way out in the boondocks, baby, and consider myself to be a very thinly disguised Redneck.

Just because I know what pesto is, doesn't mean I can't appreciate a guitar, a campfire and a Cowboy.

Just because right now I live in the city, doesn't mean I don't secretly think all these neurotic self-absorbed urban types would be a lot better off if their Daddies had sent them out into the fields to dig all the rocks out.

I've baled hay, ridden horses, bottle-fed calves, mucked out stalls and worn bandannas, but somehow I never got around to listening to Top 40 Country Music.

Now, thanks to my daughter's latest musical passion, I'm walking around singing in a twangy way "Cause men and mascara, alwaaaaaaaaaays run...."

I'm forced to admit these crazy country songs have a certain simple emotional power, and I get why they are so popular. Now, how does one break an Internet radio....

HW