Kan-tucky

This past week my sister came into town for vacation. She really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Once Brent and I found out we were moving to Nashville, the following day I booked my sister a ticket to visit us. She’s a trooper to spend her vacation with us, in a temporary house, with tons of boxes, sleeping on a twin bed, sharing a bathroom with her sister AND (stinky) brother-in-law. I’m sure she would have preferred the beach, but I had my ways of convincing her, one being cheese grits.

To say we laughed a lot this week is an understatement. It’s been a blast. And I was very sad to put her back on the plane. I did my best to convince her to move here. But she said, “No way! You don’t have Central Market!” : )

On Labor Day we took a journey over to Cincinnati to see my parents, which is only 4 hours away. It’s taking some serious getting used to the fact that if you drive 4 hours, you are actually OUTSIDE your state. In Texas, you can drive 8 hours and STILL be in the great state of Texas.

Anyways, to drive to Cincinnati, you have to go through Kentucky. And let me just say, I don’t have much of a good track record with Kentuckians thus far.

When I went and picked up my sister from the airport, my Texas driving skillz apparently upset a Kentucky “gentleman.” Unfortunately for him, when he decided to “school” me on the art of driving, he didn’t quite know what he was getting into. I might be little, but I’m mighty in spirit. Let’s just say, he walked away quickly. And that’s without my 6’5” husband being there. (Don’t worry…I behaved myself. He just had to be reminded how to speak to a lady.)

So after visiting my parents, on our way back to Nashville, we stopped in Kentucky to fuel up, literally and physically. While popping in to the local “Krogers”…it’s customary to add an “s” in small towns by the way…I was asked a question by a lady that I can honestly say I’ve never imagined being asked in my life, nor ever really expected.

Keep in mind I’m dressed pretty trendy. On road trips you never know with me, but this time I actually wasn’t in sweats. I was in cute jeans, a t-shirt and a trendy scarf. I say all that to give you a point of reference.

Right when I grabbed the Advil, I heard an “Excuse me.” I at first thought she wanted around me, so I moved and said, “No problem.” But THEN, she said, “No, I actually need to ask you a question.“ . . . (Uh oh)

“Do you know if jock itch is the same thing as athlete’s foot?”

Yeah, read that again.

To say I was stunned is an understatement. First of all, why in the WORLD do I look like I would know the answer to that?!?! And second of all, I have NO earthly idea?! I am not a mom, a boy and I sure hope I don’t look like I am plagued by either of those.

I think I just stared at her for a good minute and blinked – and the first thing out of my mouth was, “OH! I don’t know…there should be some gold bond over there somewhere, I’m sure that will help.” And then I quickly backed up, found my sister and we RAN for the door.

My sister and I laughed the whole way back. That question stayed on repeat for the rest of the drive. And the more tired you are…the funnier it is. The best response was from Brent when I told him what I had been asked: “OH MY LORD…NO they are NOT the same thing?!?!”

So, please don’t ever ask me that question. I have no earthly idea. Nor want to.