It's DY-NO-MITE, y'all!

Ahhhh... what a beautiful morning here on the porch. Few things kick off a Sunday better than gorgeous fall sunshine, fresh-brewed coffee, a waiting newspaper and - oh yeah - a massive explosion.

That's right. I don't like to brag, but I began my day with one hell of a KABOOM.

(No, no. Not that kind of kaboom. Much to my husband's dismay, my definition of myself as a "morning person" only stretches so far.)

This KABOOM took place on the downtown riverfront, where the fair city I call home demolished a hotel as part of a riverfront revitalization project. The implosion was the best redneck event in this town since two portly fellas in wifebeaters beat the crap out of each other at the annual barbecue festival. That was fun. But I digress...

Now, I might have been born and raised in Kentucky, but that doesn't mean I'm not a sophisticated woman. I put my napkin on my lap in finer restaurants (e.g. Bob Evans); I hold my pinkie out when I drink a beverage (e.g. Bud Light long-neck); and I enjoy classical music (e.g. Kenny Chesney).

So I pondered whether or not I should rouse my family early this morning to watch a building implode; however, since I'm the same girl who relished using firecrackers to blow up toy Army men with the neighborhood boys as a child, it wasn't much of a debate.

We rolled out of bed and ventured downtown, where half the community was gathered on top of local buildings to watch the action. I don't want to name names, but some of us were still in our pajamas.

My clan parked in a local parking garage and scrambled to the roof to meet friends. We barely made it to the top with hundreds of other gawkers before we heard the final countdown, followed by an earsplitting explosion. The parking garage shook, a huge dust cloud billowed and the hotel a few blocks away came tumbling down. We hillbillies hooted and hollered and thrust our kids up on our shoulders for a better view. It was ... spectacular.

In fact, it was so awesome that I couldn't resist taunting a good friend of mine who has camped out all weekend with his family at the Texas Motor Speedway infield for a NASCAR event. I bragged that I was a hardcore redneck mama who had dragged her family out of bed to watch an explosion. I felt certain I had trumped his redneck ways.

His response:

That is truly redneck! But, darlin', unless today you brushed your teeth in the front yard, did your morning pee in a port-o-potty, kicked the beer cans under the trailer 'cause the trash can is full, woke your son up from the truck he was sleeping in and told him that he could go sleep in the trailer now that everyone is awake, checked the batteries in your scanner, put breakfast on the smoker, or filled up the frozen margarita machine, you gots a ways to go. But I do appreciate your aspirations!

Dammit! I was so close. And here I thought starting my day with dynamite would put me over the top. Ah, well. At least I scored extra points by wearing my pajamas in public.


*Special thanks to Jeniffer Eberhard Black, a fellow redneck mama extraordinaire, for the use of the photo.