Pardon Me, Do You Have Any Pou Pourri?

Hello folks, let’s chat… The other day one I responded to a reader on Facebook and promptly laughed out loud at what I’d written. Granted, I’m an easy laugh, but for me, the chuckle necessitated a follow-up post. “You know you’re from the south,” I typed, “when you respond to a reader who can’t make your book launch by saying, ‘We’ll miss you, Bubba, but thanks for sending your mama.’”

As a writer trying to reach readers in a world that enjoys an endless stream of new books and twenty-four seven online content, I’m grateful for that level of support.  Sending your mama in your place is the type of loyalty that can’t be bought but where I come from, it’s typical.

My readers are also an endless supply of material. I’m blessed to speak to audiences who are natural born storytellers themselves and they’re gracious enough to share when my stories remind them of their own. I recently spoke to a group of fun-loving cowgirls in Tyler, TX. I shared my amusement over the news coming out of the Sochi Olympics, specifically the double toilet debut.  I’ve heard the older generations talk about two-hole outhouses, but those Russian folks have brand spanking new ones with nary a wall between ’em. I suggested they may want to carry some of that handy dandy Pou Pourri Mama gave us girls a couple Christmas’ ago. Mama thought we should tote it in our purses to show consideration for others. True story.

Afterwards, one of the girls there emailed me this keeper.

Seems Misty Pearson’s great grandfather had a dairy farm in TX. He also had an outhouse he was quite proud of, seeing as it was a fancy two-holer.  In due time, her great grandfather was invited to a relative’s house who had recently gotten indoor plumbing. The city folks threw a big outside barbecue, too, but none of it impressed her great-grandfather. Upon his return he told his family that it was the darndest thing he’d ever seen. “Those people,” he said, “were eating outside and doing their business inside!”

Hugs, Shellie