Sam has been on a moonshine kick lately. He sits out in the garage with his mason jar and his outlaw country music blaring, working through the to-do list for our home. He walked in the other day, covered in saw dust, and told me that I needed to hear this song, and that I would love it. Being the good wife that I am, moaned and groaned and took 10 minutes to open up my computer, thinking he was going to make me listen to some old, terrible, country song. I had to stop myself from enjoying the song, initially, since I had complained and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. I’m a jerk, I know. I’m working on it.
Anyway, it’s funny that I just said…err typed that because it goes along with the song. The specifics are a little off (only a little, though), but the basic idea of the song is definitely something Sam and I can relate to. Okay, enough story telling.
In Spite of Ourselves by John Prine & Iris DeMent
Me + Three {and counting} 