Word of the Day: Bucolic

My attempt yesterday at raising this blog's level of sophistication had mixed results. The part that could still use improvement: I again ended up talking about butt wiping. But on the plus side: we had our first two confirmed reports of someone (other than ourselves) actually reading our blog. Okay so one was my wife who I practically had to force her to read, but the other was my sister-in-law...my very sweet, proper, polite, conservative sister-in-law from Japan...and I was talking about butt wiping. How embarrassing.

I suppose it just goes to show that I can try all I want to put on a show of being sophisticated and cultured but when it comes down to it, I'm still just a redneck turd from the sticks. And it isn't a good idea to try to polish a turd. Just try it sometimes. Or better yet, don't. It's a messy thing only a country fried hick would attempt. Which brings me to the Merriam-Webster Online word of the day:

bucolic • \byoo-KAH-lik\ • adjective
1 : of or relating to shepherds or herdsmen : pastoral
2 : relating to or typical of rural life

I have been bucolic all my life and didn't realize until tonight. I knew I was a couple of other things ending in -olic but never of the "buc" variety. But step one of overcoming any problem is identifying it.

I know I'm bucolic because:

• I currently live in a town of less than 3,000 people.
• The major industry here is the dump.
• The most famous person that lives here has an outrageous mullet.
• You can see the city limits sign from the other city limits sign.
• You can write "Ethel" on an envelope, put a stamp on it and the post office knows exactly where to deliver it.

I didn't always live in this town though. The place I grew up in was even more bucolic. I had five classmates in my fifth grade class. We shared the same classroom and teacher with the two fourth-graders and the four sixth-graders. One time my dad pulled out to the end of the driveway and had to wait for a car to go past and complained about the darn traffic. Yes we were a bunch of raging bucolics.

But this is good. Now that I've admitted to myself what a bucolic I am maybe I can get myself some help. I'm sure there are a few good government programs that help unfortunate bucolics such as myself. My town is probably too bucolic to have its own chapter of Bucolics Anonymous but maybe the next town over...the one with the liquor store...

Bucolics Anonymous, there's a contradiction in terms. If you ever want to be anonymous don't come to a town that's full of bucolics. People might not all know your name but they all know about something personal about you. For instance, some people in town call me by my name. Others call me "that guy who's dog stole my burrito last summer." And everyone knows exactly who they're talking about. I haven't tested this theory yet but I wouldn't be suprised if I received a letter some day addressed only to "That guy who's dog stole my burrito last summer."

Now that I've admitted that I have this problem, I feel pretty good about my chances of kicking this bucolism. That's not to say I won't fall off the wagon every once in a while but I think that with the help and support of my family and friends...hey look at that! Bubba's got himself a brand new riding lawnmower and wants to race! Oh well, maybe I'll quit cold turkey next week.