I grew up in California, ages 4-29. I married a born and bred Okie when I was 29 and have been living in Oklahoma ever since (which is slightly more than 29 years). My husband's Oklahoma charm is what first attracted me to him. Slow the pace of the language and hear the southern drawl as you read, "Ah wuz wanderin' if ah could talk ya out uh summa ya speh tahm." (Translation if you need it: I was wondering if I could talk you out of some of your spare time.") I was a goner. Not everything he does is quite that charming. Like, when we had a hail storm and a baseball sized rock of ice blew a hole in our skylight, Daryl fixed it by putting a sponge in the hole and a towel on the ground below it. Temporary fix? No. We couldn't replace the skylight as long as it was storming. And when the sun came out and the weather was lovely, it was no longer an urgent problem.
That was a year ago. In the meantime, I became a big fan of duct tape. When we had a break between recent storms, I went upstairs to inspect the hole in the skylight. It was still there. The sponge was limp, the towel soaked and the carpet wet. I climbed up on a step stool (not brave enough to go out on the roof) and covered the hole with duct tape. It has rained and poured three times since I took charge of the problem and my duct tape looks as good as the day I put it up. I'd call that Okie ingenuity. And I guess that makes me an Okie too!