I've told this story before but I love it so much, by golly, here I go again.
Almost forty years ago, after we had made our move to the farm and become caught up in the farm way of life, back in Tampa, one of my mother's (and now one of my) friends was at a fancy cocktail party, chatting with my mother. The friend asked how I was doing in this new environment.
"Oh," said my mother, probably rolling her eyes and pursing her lips, "She leads a very different sort of life." There was a dramatic pause (at least, as I imagine it) and my mother lowered her voice. "She cans."