Mules Rule

I've been a Georgian for almost six years now. Before that however, I was all Tennessee -- eighteen years in Columbia, four in Knoxville, and three in Nashville. In all the places I've lived, my hometown has always been able to draw me home the first weekend in April for a very special occasion -- Mule Day. I was so excited to share that special day with my daughter this year.

Mule Day has gotten strangely popular in recent years. It was identified as a major terrorist target by the Department of Homeland Security after 9/11, and in a popular article, The New York Times used this as an illustration of ridiculousness in the department. Larry the Cable Guy's new series Only in America profiled Mule Day. Last year, Naomi Judd was the Grand Marshall. No matter how popular or unpopular it may become, it is one of my favorite days. I feel sorry for those who don't go home once a year to stand in front of the funeral home and watch a two-hour parade devoted to a sterile creature not intended by God or to the county park where the good prisoners are let out of jail for the day to load cinder blocks onto sleds behind teams of mules to see which can pull the most weight. It's a great reason to see family and friends who live far away.

Annabel enjoyed the parade and was on her best behavior. We invited some of our friends who have recently moved to Nashville to watch the parade with us and to come to my parent's house for a big southern lunch. Mom pulled out all the stops with a new grit recipe (featuring Rotel!), pimento cheese sandwiches, turnip greens, field peas, homemade biscuits, and two kinds of pie (chess and chocolate fudge...nom, nom, nom). We ate ourselves silly. Annabel took a nap.

We also got brave and took Annabel to church. She napped all the way until mid-sermon, when all indications were that we might have a diaper situation. I took her out to check, but it was a false alarm.

We also took the opportunity of being in Tennessee for Annabel to visit my mom's family farm, which is in Carthage (really Dixon Springs, if you want to be precise). I'm the first generation on both sides of my family to not grow up on a farm, which is a shame because I really enjoy farms. The upside is that I would not know Mule Day had I grown up on either of the family farms, and really life would be far less rad without Mule Day. We had nice weather and took lots of pictures. Annabel seemed to enjoy herself and looked supercute in her jeans.

The farmhouse my mother and grandfather grew up in is in the background, and the mounting block for getting on your horse is in the foreground. Much cuteness is in the middle. My great grandfather had the farmhouse built in the 1890's

Swinging on the front porch. Good times. We're back in Atlanta now, hoping to plant our garden this weekend. It's the Foxes' little urban slice of farm, if you will. I leave you with a parting shot of Mule Day -- Annabel and her pops, enjoying the parade. Until next year, mules...