Thankful to be out of the South

Thankful to be out of the South

I try to keep this blog from being too personal. I don’t expect people to enjoy reading about my fortunes or misfortunes. That’s what reality TV is for. Anyways, on this Thanksgiving I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. This has been a huge year for me. I’ve made my first huge move. Drove across this barren country, starting in hot and bothered Nashville and making it to the beautiful Pacific Northwest. I’ve had to make a lot of adjustments. I was prepared for the worst. It was a ballsy move. However, this has been the best thing I have ever done. Well, other than marrying my sweetheart. (Sorry to gag you with a spoon.) I’m so happy that this move worked out. I never realized why I was so unhappy. I just thought I was a bitch. I’m still a bitch but at least I am a happy one that spends weekends on the rocky coasts, finding so many golden chanterelles that I never want to see this little fungi again, and exposed to the most amazing produce ever. I love living in a place that keeps me so busy, either shopping for my new fave niche fragrance or kicking so many toadstools. It’s nice. It was a nice match for me. All I wanted was was mountains and sea with lots of fungus, good food, and feeling like I am in a place that is apart of the globe. My husband and I are happy, living in a cute yellow craftsmen a few blocks from the sea. Still no buttermilk colored French bulldog pitter patting about, still working on that. My French bulldog biological clock is still ticking. Still no delicious Mexican food. How I long for that daily! People don’t “keep it real” out here and I miss that. I come across as bitchy and pushy and that is funny. I miss people saying for Thanksgiving, “that they gonna eat till they get sick” or “until they hope to not see food ever again.” There are some differences but I needed a reason to romanticize the dirty South just like the rest of the country does. I needed a reason to think that making biscuits is cute and charming and eating pintos is something that you do even if you aren’t so damn poor that your parents can’t afford Top Ramen. It has it’s ups and downs but I’m just happy to be away from the South for a while. I’m thankful to have my own blue potato mashed potato Thanksgiving dinner sans driving to Grandma’s house stuck behind a huge ass SUV with anti-Obama, anti-gay, anti-everything bumper stickers.

Two happy peeps.

Two happy peeps.