Thank God I'm a country girl

I've been mulling a change for some time.
My old blog, Rose's Cantina, was turning me into a bitter old crone.
I reminded myself of Granny Ina who used to hit the cat with her cane. The cat deserved a whooping, of course, because she was a miserable and mangy little cuss who lay in wait for Granny. When Granny came around the corner, Pixie would pounce on her leg, bite her ankles and sink her razor sharp teeth into the wrinkly old flesh.
It was awesome.
I realized recently if I didn't stop snarking at politicians and movie stars, I was going to morph into an eighty-pound dame who could wield a cane like a ninja operating nunchuks.
So I've decided to change lanes and embark on a more positive, if not bizarre journey, which might land me a gig on CBC radio if I play my cards right.
Think a mixture of Stuart Mclean and Jann Arden.
Starden.

That's me.
A little girl outstanding in her field.
Just a country girl with a twang in my heart and a pack of dogs by my side.
Put on the kettle. Set a spell.
We'll haul out the hooch after the kids go to bed.

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Rose's Cantina

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