Desert Chronicles (Miss America edition)
Well, last night miss oklahoma became the new Miss America. As they say in the Polish Forest Service, whoop-ti-dooski.
I have my own miss america items to share. The miss america for 2001 was from oregon. She just happens to live on the next farm to my pig farmer brother-in-law. Miss america lives west of them by about a quarter mile. Since the prevailing wind is from the west, and the pig farm smells bad enough to cause birth defects in humans even when the weather is cold, the fact that they live upwind of the pig farm is just proof that Mother America didn't raise any fools.
Miss america doesn't come out much, i guess the sun is bad for her, or else she has important stuff to do in the house all the time. Her husband, Mr. America, is a fighter pilot at the nearby air base in Klamath falls; he is frequently milling about in his yard, and usually in a flight suit.
Mr. America seems much more sociable to the locals. One of his favorite greetings is to buzz my brother-in-law when he is out in the field on his tractor. Having an F-16 come up behind you, about 200 feet off the deck, at about 550 mph, such that one minute you are sitting there, pondering strawberries, sex, or alfalfa hay, and the next, you feel the air leave you as the compression wave hits you hard enough to lift your plow out of the ground; that is downright neighborly.
Actually, he is buzzing his bride, probably waking her from an aerobics-induced slumber, but when you live right next to them, interruptions of your deep thoughts when on a tractor is just collateral damage, i guess.
Miss america can't travel without an escort, some sort of clause in her royal contract, i guess. she travels often, and usually takes her mother, as her husband can't have his air defense of the Klamath potato fields interrupted very often; you never know when them damned idaho guys might stage a raid.
Back the pageant last night... well, miss and mr. america went to las vegas for the pageant, as ex-miss americas are wont to do, annually. Quite a shift from the salad days of Atlantic City and the boardwalk; now its the Atlantis and Wayne Newton, but i digress.
Since Mother America got left home, she decided to have a Miss America party. Sort of like a Super Bowl party, except it is for the hairspray and pedicure set, with faint whiffs of Tupperware, but only outside on the deck. My sister in law got invited. The main theme of the party was "I am so sick of these skinny girls and their diets that i am going eat about 35,000 calories and make fun of Miss Kansas". Mother America is a bit thicker around the middle, as middle-aged women occasionally become, thus the farm wives she invited fit right in. How such a normal, fun woman ever had a miss america spring out of her is a mystery of biological science that i will never unravel; i guess they have to come from somewhere.
The truth is, the pig farmer's younger daughter is so beautiful that she makes miss america look like a homeless street skank; but the rigors of pageant life were not for her. She married an airline pilot... which is sort of like an air force major except they make a good paycheck. The pig farmer's wife didn't raise any fools, either...LOL
"If at first you don't succeed,
skydiving is not for you"
