A bit about Where I Live...

Hello again my fellow blog-readers.
I decided to write today about where I live, since it's a pretty interesting place.
Brown County Indiana, the Hills of Brown, the home of Abe Martin and T. C. Steele. A place where good, country folk live, people who want nothing more then to sit on their front porch and watch the world go by, read The Brown County Democrat, and admire the fall leaves. Now, to be a true Brown County citizen, you must:

• Have attended and/or participated in the Annual Outhouse Races, the most thrilling sporting event of the year.
  
• Own a 'Beautiful Downtown Bean Blossom' T-shirt from the IGA. (Check out their Facebook page: just search 'Beautiful Downtown Bean Blossom')
  
• Learn to say 'crick' instead of 'creek'. I don't say it like that, but people will think you're a tourist if you don't.
  
• Have attended and/or participated in the annual Spring Blossom Parade
• Have attended the County Fair

Today my mom and I went to Nashville on our usual errands. For lunch we went to the HobNob Corner Restaurant, Brown County Dining at it's best. Now what a lot of people don't know, is that there is a secret drawer at the HobNob. Well, it's not really secret, it's in plain sight, but it has a secret INSIDE. It's chock full of messages, all written on napkins, from people who have eaten there. People from Louisiana and Washington State as well as Indiana, some saying how great the food is, suggestions on what to order (apparently the spaghetti is a favorite), and complaining that they're mom won't let them have dessert. Today I left my own message, suggesting the Chocolate Temptation cake, which is absolutely fabulous. Checking to make sure the waitress was elsewhere, I slipped the (unused) napkin in the drawer on top of the others. I don't know if the waitresses are aware of the secret in the drawer, or if it has only been found by nosy people like me. But if you ever go to the HobNob Corner Restaurant, and sit at the first table by the big glass-front cabinet, look in the second-from-the-left top drawer, and check it out. Admire the contents, and leave you're own message if you feel like it.

The Secret Drawer at the HobNob is just another one of those little things about Brown County that I love. There are so many things, but mostly I love that it's so everybody-knows-everybody. I see people I know in the paper, walking around town, in a high school play, at the county fair...

And you would not believe how excited people get down here get about things like the annual 4th of July fireworks show, the Kelly Miller circus, even the sock factory (You know the brand of socks 'For Bare Feet'? Yeah, they come from here).

Of course, I can't talk. My family practically threw a party when we got our first manure spreader.

But that's Brown County in a nutshell... a pretty big nutshell, I know, but I'm a writer, I can't help it. But alas, the sun sinks slowly in the west and my time for blogging ends.

First Post (How Original)

So, this is my first blog post. I am in awe of myself for actually creating something online. But if you are some random person viewing this blog, please know that it will not contain me just saying to myself, "Oh my gosh, I just changed the template! Yay me!"

In the future, when I figure all this out, I will most likely include:

• Movie reviews


• Book reviews


• And just the retellings of all my adventures and escapades here on the farm.

Well, it's not really a farm per se, just some acreage in the country with a farm-like atmosphere created by various livestock as well as barns, beehives, et cetera. However, the dictionary definition of a farm is:

farm [faarm]
n (plural farms)
1.
agricultural land and buildings: an area of land where crops are grown or animals are reared for commercial purposes, together with appropriate buildings
2.
place producing particular animals or crops: an area of land or water where particular animals, birds, fish, or crops are raised for commercial purposes (usually used in combination)
a trout farm...

So you could call it a farm. But that's another thing you should know: I give dictionary definitions... a lot. I love the dictionary. I consider myself a Bluestocking, which you probably guessed considering the title of my blog is 'Life of a Bluestocking', unless you thought I was referring to someone else. Which would have been silly. And considering you are reading this blog, obviously with some intrest, you are most likely a bluestocking yourself, or else I know you personally and you're reading it because I told you to. However, if you do not know what a bluestocking is, let me pull out another dictionary definition for you:

blue·stock·ing [bl stòking](plural blue·stock·ings)
n
a term for a woman who has intellectual, scholarly, or literary interests

At the literary gatherings held at the houses of fashionable mid-18th century hostesses, it became the custom to wear casual rather than formal dress. In the case of gentlemen's stockings, this meant gray worsted (called "blue" at that time) rather than black silk. This lack of decorum was disapproved of in some quarters, and one Admiral Boscowan dubbed the participants the "Blue Stocking Society." Women who attended the gatherings thus became known as "Blue Stocking Ladies" (even though it was men who had worn the stockings).

Interesting, isn't it? But, I better wrap this up, I need to go do dishes. I promise to write more later! So... I guess that's it!