Playing Anthropologist

Last night, Alycia and I, both northerners by birth, played the Jane Goodall of the south, and slipped on down to the Blind Horse Saloon for their songwriters showcase concert. When Alycia emailed me about the show last week, I assumed it was going to feature a few local bands, since the tickets were FREE.

Uh, not quite- turned out to be Josh Turner, Kellie Pickler, Bucky Covington, and Joe Nichols. They were all AWESOME live and we had a blast, even though there were some 1400 people packed into a slightly oversized bar, and the tallest woman in the human race was, of course, standing directly in front of us. Get to the back, Amazon woman. You look better in me than jeans, I should get front row privileges. Trade-offs.

Some thoughts, post concert:

• I've always acknowledged that Josh Turner is attractive, but up close and personal, he is SO. CUTE. And his voice- ahhhh. It reminds me of a certain extremely tall, deep-voiced, old camp friend of mine that I used to drool over every time he sang. There's just something about a man with a baritone- I'm a total sucker.
• Kellie Pickler has some anger issues she needs to work on, I think. I realized that most/all of her songs have to do with revenge on ex-boyfriends. "Red High Heels" - about going out all skanked up to show the ex what he's missing, "Best Days of Your Life" - the 'you may have a new girlfriend now but you spent your youth with me and you can never get that back muahahaha' song, and perhaps the creepiest of all "Rocks Instead of Rice" - about crashing her ex-boyfriend's wedding and wishing she could throw rocks at them instead of the more traditional rice. On one hand, I say "PREACH, girlfriend. I feel ya." but on the other hand, maybe look into some therapy sessions, Kellie. You can afford it now.
• Am I the only one who thinks the name 'Bucky Covington' sounds like a rip-off of Billy Currington? It's like the name you would use for a really bad cover-up, like if Billy was trying to get advice from someone- "See I've got this friend, let's call him, uh, Bucky Covington. Yeah, that's right. And see, this "friend" has a huge crush on a girl..." Don't they make stars change their names all the time? Wouldn't you think Bucky would fall into this category? Also, as Alycia pointed out, with names like 'Bucky' and 'Rocky' (his twin brother- I'm not kidding), life doesn't really set you up with a lot of options. It's pretty much either car maintenance or country music. You don't meet a lot of bankers by the name of Bucky.
• Joe Nichols was just plain good. He has a normal name, he's moderately attractive but nothing to write home about, and his songs don't suggest the need for intensive counseling, so what else it there to say? Sing on, Joe, sing on.

With drinks under $5, it was all-around a great evening- the fact that we almost got involved in a brawl on the dance floor was just icing on the cake.

Bleh

Tomorrow's forecast for my lovely little corner of the world:

Sunny, very hot with the temperature approaching the record of 99 set in 1944 and humid

I like how they tack the 'and humid' on the end, as an afterthought. Like, 'oh and by the way, the air is going to be so incredibly moist you'll feel like you are walking through a puddle and will have the urge to rip every layer of your skin off in some attempt to escape the misery.'

Belonging

"Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room." - Harriet Beecher Stowe

I've never considered myself a homebody. When I was younger, I'd always planned on going to college far away (or at least Chicago), studying abroad, teaching English in Taiwan... none of those things panned out, but only because God forcibly (and against my stubborn will) led me elsewhere, and not due to a lack of interest.

I had a great childhood in Michigan (though my teenage years may have bordered on angsty) but I never felt any particular loyalty to my hometown and I wasn't at all surprised at my post-graduation decision to move six states away to a foreign city where I knew exactly one person (or two, depending on if you count TJ as a separate entity from his wife). Unlike my counterparts, Kristen and Hannah, who are so needy for human interaction that there were times when they literally couldn't let me nap for 20 minutes, I've never minded being alone (earning myself the nickname 'Hermit' in college, thanks to my penchant for locking myself in my room and generally refusing visitors). So I'm continually surprised at how much I miss my friends, family and my home.

Monroe is not a place I would recommend living. Situated halfway between Toledo and Detroit, cities with two of the crappiest reputations I've encountered, it doesn't have much to boast except a failing economy and a river that floods its banks every few years. Everything about it is, at best, mediocre. Honestly, unless you are writing your doctoral thesis on General George Custer (while not his birthplace, we do claim to be his boyhood home), I can't think of a single reason you would ever pack up and move your life to Monroe, MI.

In contrast, the residents of Greenville, where I currently live, love to say that they live "in the best place in the world". On the radio, in the supermarket line, during casual conversation- I really do hear this line once a week or so. And I can't really argue with them; Greenville does seem to have a Renaissance man kind of thing going. With mild winters, and gorgeous springs and falls, it's close to the coast, the mountains, and only a short drive from both Atlanta and Charlotte. In a few hours drive you can be surfing, snowboarding, hiking the Appalachian Trail, or taking in a show at the Fox. And beyond its convenient proximity, Greenville itself is both a big town and a small city, where you find yourself driving beyond someone you know on the highway, but you can get still buy Eagles tickets for the Bi-Lo Center downtown. The city seems to truly care about the happiness of its residents, and spends its time and money on things that improve the space, offering beautiful parks, extensive trails, and countless free entertainment opportunities.

All that being said, my heart is not really here. I do love Greenville, and I'll miss it when I eventually move away, but a big part of me really does just want to be back in Michigan. Monroe may be flatter than one of my dad's apple pancakes, its greatest draw the creepy castle off of Telegraph Road, and the most exciting thing happening on any given evening is probably the teenage outcasts swordfighting at Munson Park, but it's where I spent 22 years of my life and I really can't imagine ever calling another place "home".

Still in the 90s

Living in the South will make you rethink your wardrobe choices.

Allow me to explain. At the beginning of the summer, I bought a pair of white demin shorts (white denim?? I know, what was I thinking? In my defense, they were $6 on clearance at the Gap) that I promptly returned within a week of taking up residence in South Carolina. It doesn’t matter how scandalously short or matronly loose-fitting they are, the feeling of denim against your skin when it’s 95 degrees and just as humid out can be described as ‘uncomfortable’ at best.

I’ve learned that fabric matters. When it came to work clothes at my office in Michigan, there was no real differentiation between summer and winter wear- typically it was colder with the AC on June than with the heater in January (see: cold, colder, and coldest), so it was tweed pants and sweaters all year round. But no more.

Gone are the lined pants and snug-fitting tops, packed away for colder days (presuming they ever actually visit this part of the country). It’s light, flowy blouses and linen capris for this girl; flip-flops and lots of pony-tails.

Unfortunately, it's taking me a while to adjust my wardrobe. As a result, I'm pretty sure the people of Greenville think I only own one pair of pants. Luckily, I don't get out much (but more on that later).

Fall is Here, Ring the Bell

Thanks to Margaret’s wedding and Labor Day, my last weekend was 4+ days long. As you all know, when you’re away, time freezes and nothing happens until you return home. Since the month rolled over during my brief vacation from reality, I completely missed it. That fact, combined with the week starting on a Tuesday completely mixed up my carefully-regulated internal schedules and resulted in some pretty shocking realizations today, namely, the following:

1) It’s Wednesday. This occurred to me while I was scouring the web, looking for previews of the new Publix ad, which come out each Wednesday, when it hit me that it WAS Wednesday, right now! This changes everything! I thought. (In reality, it doesn’t change much except that I’m one day ahead on gas, and I can sleep in tomorrow since my Thursday work days are short)

2) It’s September. While this fact registered with me in some vague way, like starting the date with a ‘9’ instead of an ‘8’ on forms at work, it didn’t show itself in any practical way until tonight, when I realized “Oh, it’s SEPTEMBER! That means rent is due! Again...” (that’s the thing about recurring bills- they just. Keep. Recurring. Seriously Verizon, you want more money from me? I just paid you like… oh yeah, a month ago. Ahem. )

So I dutifully signed away a huge chunk of my last paycheck and put the check in an envelope to drop in my apartment complex’s night box. Now, here’s where the story really gets exciting (I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats). When I licked the envelope flap, I managed to (brace yourselves here!) paper cut both sides of my mouth in one fell swoop. Ick, I shudder just to write those words. I’m not sure if enduring bodily harm as part of paying rent is technically ironic, but it’s something pretty crappy.

At any rate, I'm glad it's September- South Carolina took better note of the date change than I did, and adjusted its temperatures accordingly. The past few days have been picture-perfect, and Lucio's windows are fogged up in the morning, reminding me of Michigan and going back to school. I miss both.

Why I Love the South: Reason #1

Smile-of-the-day moment: I saw a man wearing a T-shirt that said (and I apologize for any incorrect spellings I spell correctly here) "Yo' mama wuz pro-life, dawlin' ".

Amen, brotha.

Somebody get me a sweater!

Last night's 7'o'clock news informed me that a cold front is expected to come in this weekend.

A cold front? I think excitedly. Ooh! Maybe that dust-collecting pile of lightweight long-sleeve tees under my bed will finally get some use.

So I check weather.com this morning- the predicted temperatures for this bone-chilling Saturday/Sunday?

88 and 92, respectively.

Welcome to the South.