Shall We Start With Introductions

Perhaps y’all should know the writer behind the blog, or perhaps you could give a crap less. Regardless, you’re going to know a little more about me whether you give a rat’s caboose or not.

My name is not important, but my credentials are. You’re probably thinking, “What qualifies this girl to write a blog about the South?” Well, let me tell you…

I was born and raised in a quiet town south of the Mason Dixon line. I grew up catchin’ crawdads in a crick (yes, this is spelled right), getting my afternoon snack from the wild honeysuckle and blackberry bushes, helping my dad raise bees for fresh honey, drinking from a garden hose, and praying it would snow so we could get JUST ONE DANG snow day off school (we were lucky if we got one stinkin’ flake of snow). This last part was important because I think growing up in a place where snow was not the norm was what drove me to apply to a college up north. That white fluffy stuff sure did look like a lot of fun… at the time. I learned later that it’s a nuisance and my southern roots rendered me plum useless in the cold weather. But that’s neither here nor there; let’s get back on track…

In high school, everyone drove a truck and we spent most weekends by a campfire in the woods. I learned to drive a 4-wheeler at a very young age, and it wasn’t uncommon to spend a weekend at the hunting cabin in the “Deer Woods.” Although we’re not all trucks and guns, part of growing up in the South meant attending Cotillion. Yes, at a certain age your mother would enroll you in a class and you would spend 3+ years of your life learning etiquette, ballroom dancing, how to properly serve/take afternoon tea, how to write thank you notes, curtsy and answer the telephone properly. This was the most normal thing, and none of us thought a darn thing about it.

When I left for college, I decided to attend a small private college NORTH of the Mason Dixon line. THAT right there is what qualifies me to write about the South. I know what the North is like and I know what us Southerners do differently. None of my friends from college had a grandmother who would shoot at the bears to scare them out of her back yard. None of their grandfathers were moonshiners. None of them knew that to make proper sweet tea you must mix in the sugar while the tea is still hot. And goodness knows, not one of them ever attended Cotillion. It’s knowing the differences between us and them that gives me the professional edge to write this blog. Plus I’m constantly inspired because I married a Yankee (hold your judgments). Luckily, he’s adapting well to southern life. I may even go so far as to say he actually fits in rather nicely.

I’m starting this blog because I find the South to not only be the warmest, kindest place in the world, but also because it is the quirkiest and craziest. Hopefully you’ll enjoy my misadventures/recipes/theories/advice/southernisms, but if you don’t… Well, I’m sorry but you can go kick rocks.

It’s the South, y’all!