Resistance is futile
Wednesday, July 14th, 2010We will be assimilated. We are becoming more Southern with every passing day. We’ll never be true Southerners but the South has a way of creeping in.
One day we were talking about what we needed to do and Steve said “I reckon…” (who talks like that?)
I find myself saying “Ya’ll” without the previous irony.
I tried shrimp and cheese grits. And I liked them. A lot.
I tried fried green tomatoes. They were pretty good.
I wear capris and skirts more often when I go out. I still wear shorts in public but I’m aware that I am breaking the rules. I still don’t care but I know why I am getting disapproving looks.
Whenever I am pointing out something about another person that might be considered a flaw or criticism, I follow it with “bless her heart“.
When it is 100 degrees outside, I take a sweater with me to restaurants because it is likely to be 66 degrees inside.
I know the best pulled pork sandwiches can be found in gas station restaurants in the middle of no where. Seriously, there is one in NC, on the way to the beach, that makes me drool as we approach.
The other day, Steve declared it was going to be a nice day because it was “only supposed to be 90 degrees”.
I have a strange desire to try Chess Pie despite the fact I am sure it is foul (it has been described to me as pecan pie without the pecans – blech).
But yesterday sealed it. We bought meat off the back of a pickup truck. Yes, yes we did.
Okay it wasn’t quite as redneck looking as that – but it wasn’t far off. It was a pickup with a chest freezer in back. And we purchased steaks from them. The prices were decent – not low enough to set off “too good to be true” alarm bells but good. The meat was frozen solid and looked nice. We’ll see once we try it.
The funniest part of the transaction (and there were several) was the guy’s son. The son was probably 20. He looked like quite the good old boy and was sporting a slight mullet. They both had thick Southern drawls. The son had said very little but dad was showing us the box of pork and pulled out some stuffed pork chops. Dad described the corn bread stuffing and the son drawled “They are divine.” Totally not the choice of words I would have expected.
Welcome to the south.












Thanks for all of yesterdays comments. While I’m not glad others have to endure it, I am always glad to know I’m not alone in my frustrations.

