Made in the USA

Last week I burned myself on the oven while getting a pizza out. The burn mark turned out to be in the shape of Arkansas- my birth state. In effect, I branded myself. Maybe this is my subconscious letting me know that I have been neglecting the great state of Arkansas. Maybe I need to make a pilgrimage there. In the meantime, here's my shout out to the Natural State:
Oh Arkansas, how I love thy beauty. I have fond memories of springs and summers on the farm, of playing with cousins, of riding horses and feeding calves. How I miss thy chiggers, the sweltering heat, and extreme numbers of noxious plants. I often wish for those days playing in the creek, catching fresh water clams and putting them in Grandma's fish tank. I miss the sound of that southern twang and the word ya'll. I will always cherish the way people say, "Oh, Bill Clinton's state, huh?" when I tell them I was born in Arkansas despite the fact that I have never had anything to do with Bill Clinton except that my mom worked at his bank and one time he gave her a stick of gum. Oh Arkansas, home of breathtaking hikes, ghillie suit wearing Grandpas, the Ozark mountains, Walmart and potato guns, you will always have a special place in my heart and now on my arm.