Last night I went with my grandma, mom, and aunt to a lovely night of culture in the foothills of North Carolina. We headed 45 minutes north to Levering Orchard, complete a picnic basket to see an outdoor one woman show.

Picturesque, no?

No is right. As soon as we got out there, it of course started to rain. So, they piled the 20 or so patrons into a tiny, rundown shed which previously served as a dressing room.

The next hour basically consisted of me sitting in said cabin (which felt like Hoarders Lite) while an actress discussed previous lesbian experimentation and as I sat beside my 84 year old Mamaw in a lawn chair. Nothing like hearing the term “breast fondling” inches away from a woman whose idea of a curse word is “Flitter!”. This is the only time I’ve been thankful for her faulty hearing.

Well, we got through it and I’ll chalk it up to a learning experience. Never, and I mean never , pack a picnic without a bottle of wine in it.


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