By Staff
Well, I did it. I managed to survive my first Blueberry Festival. While it's not my first festival to attend, it was definitely the hottest, and not the only "first" of the weekend.
Friday night I went to the street dance behind the courthouse. I'm not a big fan of country music, but The Sawmill Band wasn't half bad, despite the rainy delay. They played some of my most liked country songs.
I tend to listen to the "popular" country music from artists like Garth Brooks, Rascal Flatts, Robert Earl Keen and sometimes a little Alabama - and they played some pretty good songs.
The day finally arrived for the Blueberry Festival. My parents, who arrived for the afternoon with my older sister, bought their first blueberry bush, ate their first blueberry cobbler with blueberry ice cream and oh yea, met my boyfriend's parents for the first time.
I always hate the meeting of the families. It's such an awkward moment - for me. My parents are probably the easiest people to talk to and get along with. But during the meeting, I tried to remain close by, making sure they wouldn't say anything that would embarrass me - like bringing up the time I threw a hissy fit on Christmas day.
My daddy is a quirky little bald man. He's always telling about his days at the University of Alabama. I think his favorite story to tell is the time he and a friend were minding their own business and taking a stroll on campus when a mass crowd began to run toward him. He and his friend turned around with the crowd behind them and that's when a photographer with the Birmingham paper took a picture of the two.
The next day, in bold letters and a huge picture of the two of them appeared on the front page - "Leaders of the panty raid" the headline read.
I'm still trying to find that article