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Browsing Tag: #southernblog
Sometimes I dream of moving. Living elsewhere. Like the Oregon coast. Or the forests of Idaho. Then I laugh and know I can’t– I’m southern through and through. I talk southern, I cook southern, I dress southern. I love horses and God and football. Lord, how I love football (SEC football, that is). I love beer drank on a tail gate and sweet tea sipped on a porch swing. I love cotton fields and apple festivals. I love Dolly Parton. I love magnolia trees and pearls and swimming in the lake. I love old stately homes and hound dogs and athsmatic preachers. I love old ladies who wear hats and whose pocketbooks match their shoes. I love flamingos in the front yard and rusty mailboxes and picking squash. I love taking the long way home and giving directions that include “turn right where Charlie Maples’ grandson used to live”.I love barn cats and pocketknives and flipping over rocks to hunt for crawdads. I love novels set in the south, movies set in the south, and people who come here searching for the real south. I love butterflies and bluebirds and barn swallows. I love fishing from a riverbank with worms you just dug from under the apple tree. I love blue tailed lizards and groundhogs and counting the stars. I love tomato sandwiches on white bread with Duke’s mayonnaise and a dash of salt. I love knowing summer’…
It feels weird to have a website. I’ve been updating my favorite social media sites with my web address. Now I’m one of those people. Today I’ve done normal things…laundry, made sausage gravy, wrapped Christmas presents, watched Romy and Michelle’s High School reunion-I’d give you the link if it were any count, but it ain’t, so I’m not- {did anybody else just sing Janet Jackson with that? No? Just me then.} and submitted my book review for the library’s blog. Thank God they keep that one updated for me. I was just relieved to finish that book. It’s another’n I’d give you the link to if it was worth reading. But it’s not. Such a shame. I hate it when books and authors disappoint me. My next one is going much better. I DESPISE wrapping Christmas presents. I much prefer the buying aspect. I even like the buying of the paper. And I continue to buy more every single year, even though we have more than enough to see us through the next decade. My wrapping skills are sorely lacking. Johnny has these precise corners…mine are a wadded up, torn, much-taped, hideous disgrace. It truly is shameful. Now that is an example of one of my worst case scenarios. The package was too big for my wrapping paper. What choice…
You can ask just about anybody where their first date was with their spouse, and they can generally supply you with the name of the city and the restaurant. ‘Round here, it’s frequently “We went up to Gatlinburg.” It’s easy, it’s fun, there are no lack of things to do and see, so even if you don’t like your date, you’re in a pretty place with lots of fudge. I mean, how bad can it be? Y’all have heard about our first date before: hiking, no makeup, no heels, no dainty salad for supper. We went to Texas Roadhouse after scaling the mountain. The one in Gatlinburg. I ordered a barbeque chicken sandwich. Johnny’s pretty confident he got a barbeque pork sandwich. We’ve never been pretentious people. I had already warned him that I wasn’t a girl that ordered salads for a meal. Salads are what tide you over until the beef makes it out. And rolls. Mmmm rolls…. I digress. It was a pretty normal date, as far as dates go. He kissed me. (!) But I couldn’t tell you much else, I had stars in my eyes, and the fact of the matter is, I’m accustomed to the beauty of the mountains at this stage in my life. Johnny works in Gatlinburg a lot, as there’s typically some new building going…
This morning felt & looked like January in East Tennessee. What I mean is, it wasn’t super-frigid-freeze-your-fingers-off, but there was a heavy frost. As I drove to work, I took the time to admire all the ice crystals glimmering in the pasture fields & birds sitting close on power lines. There were cattle gathered at gates waiting for their breakfast to be brought around by the bundled up farmer on his tractor. As I drove through hollers, smoke generated by woodstoves & fi…replaces lay low to the ground. There was a stillness to be envied by all those in cities rushing around, too busy to look up (and probably nothing to look at but buildings anyway). I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the mountain ridge & thinking, “I’ve hiked that…I will hike it again soon.” So you’re probably thinking I crashed ol Patsy into one of those beautiful bare branched trees, but no. I pull into the parking lot & I get a whiff of polecat. I speed around the building, hoping it won’t get stuck in my truck all day. The smell just gets stronger. I hurriedly open my door & bail out gagging. Skunks. Now, that’s life in the mountains…
Alright. Y’all have to read this book. It will take you one day. I would say it will take you one hour, but it won’t, because you’ll have to stop after every story and laugh, then read it to anyone standing near you, then call everyone you know & read it to them. Repeat x81 (that’s how many stories there are). Then you’ll call me & tell me what an excellent recommendation I gave. You’re welcome. Messing With Tourists There’s supposed to be a picture there. Oh well. Here’s a couple of my favorite segments…
This was one of those turnaround posts. One that people loved and shared and complimented me on for days after. And made me consider getting serious about my writing. Today I’m thankful I live in the south. Can y’all even imagine me in Yankeeland? I’m thankful for the flowering dogwoods, magnolias, and crepe myrtles. I’m thankful for the summer days where it’s too hot to even swim, {forget about getting married 😉}I’m thankful for the accents that use every letter in the word. I’m thankful that most people still have enough manners to hold a door open or let you in front of them in line if you’ve only got an item or two. I’m thankful that we have people willing to keep history alive by re-creating the War of Northern Aggression. I’m thankful for the music of cicadas in the late evenings. I’m thankful for all the little festivals celebrating bar-be-que, apples, & catfish. I’m thankful for fried food, sweet tea, cornbread, and beans. I’m thankful that we’ve captured the hearts of everyone who passes through. I’m thankful that we have a church on every corner. I’m thankful for days spent fishing for trout on the foggy Clinch river, hiking and tripping over the mountains in the Great Smokies, & going even further…
Today I’m thankful I live in the south. Can y’all even imagine me in Yankeeland? I’m thankful for the flowering dogwoods, magnolias, & crepe myrtles. I’m thankful for the summer days where it’s too hot to even swim, {forget about getting married 😉 } I’m thankful for the accents that use every letter in the word. I’m thankful that most people still have enough manners to hold a door open or let you in front of them in line if you’ve only got an item or two. I’m thankful that we have people willing to keep history alive by re-creating the War of Northern Aggression. I’m thankful for the music of cicadas in the late evenings. I’m thankful for all the little festivals celebrating bar-be-que, apples, & catfish. I’m thankful for fried food, sweet tea, cornbread, & beans. I’m thankful that we’ve captured the hearts of everyone who passes through. I’m thankful that we have a church on every corner. I’m thankful for days spent fishing for trout on the foggy Clinch river, hiking & tripping over the mountains in the Great Smokies, & going even further south to visit the historic cities of Charleston & Savannah. I am thankful the south still exists as a place and as a mindset. Wherever you go, take the south…
