Just a Little Bit Odd

It occurred to me the other day just how odd I really am....

This probably comes as no surprise to some people who know me really well.

One minute I am sloshing around in the mud, in dirty jeans and Carhart coat, feeding horses and mucking stalls... and an hour later I am dressed in vintage clothes, with hair and makeup done, going to dinner with my man.

Sometimes, I cook and bake in the kitchen, singing along to some Opera aria, or choral masterpiece I used to perform with choirs and singing groups; and then get in my truck and drive to town, rocking out to heavy rock bands like Avenged Sevenfold, Five Finger Death Punch, Sick Puppies, or Disturbed. (There. The secret is out.)

I love to watch romantic, English period movies (think Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and all those glorious BBC Masterpiece Theater costume dramas); and then turn around and go to the movies to watch some action adventure flick with speeding trains, lots of shooting, car chases, bombs, terrorists, torture, international espionage, cussing, and Daniel Craig. (Wait - did I actually just say that?!)

I like to drink tea from lovely old china cups and then gear up, grab my rifle, and climb into a tree stand to hunt deer with my man and brothers.

I drive to my antique shop work, dressed in a cute vintage outfit and shoes - in my big, often dirty, 4 wheel drive pick up truck.

I also have been known to go to the mail box, bring in firewood, and lock up the chickens in their coop - all while wearing frilly pjs and velvet Laura Ashley slippers that my Mom gave me.

I can sit and do delicate, intricate embroidery for hours, and then get bored and switch to another project involving saws, screwdrivers, shovels, backhoes, hammers, chisels, and lots of paint.

I can drive a big ol' tractor baling hay with my husband on a hot, hot summer day - then pick up and stack the hay - all while wearing some frilly little top, a hat, and lip gloss (for the spf; of course).

I love my shabby chic farm cottage; with lace curtains and painted furniture and floral prints; and yet I have my husband's trophy buck head (mounted by a taxidermist, naturally) hanging on the wall in our den. And I like it there.

So..... yes, I am a bit of a contradiction, and strange also; and I am fine with it because it's who I am and I am happy. I attribute it in large part to my mom, who always made me dress "girly"; and walk like a girl; and talk like a girl, even after I insisted on loving horses and being in a barn more than the house, growing up.
"Just because you are strong and can ride well and do hard work at the barn doesn't mean you need to dress like, or carry yourself - like a man," she insisted.

Now excuse me, while I watch the next episode of that BBC Masterpiece Theater mini series with the incredible Edwardian costumes before it's time to go outside and split up a bunch of firewood for the wood stove.