01 2 / 2014
When moving to Philly, I knew it would be hard to hide The Southern. It comes out of my mouth, it is evident in my naturally big hair. When a kid in my class made me a cowboy hat the first week of school “because it matched the way I talk” I knew I didn’t have a shot at hiding The Southern.
I embraced it.
I talk about Mississippi all the time. I tell them stories of gathering eggs with my grandmother, we research facts about the Mississippi River, and I make them learn about B.B. King.
Speaking of B.B. King, I decided we should learn all about him as a class. I share a B.B. King fact of the day each morning and play “The Thrill Is Gone” like it’s our theme song. The kids are into it, because I’m into it (top ten rules of teaching, btw). But I haven’t quite gotten to the part where we talk about how influential his music is, how his sound is unique, and how the blues are such an integral part of the Missippi Delta culture. No, we’ve only gotten as far as this:
Grown Person: Why do you admire B.B. King?
Kid: He plays in nightclubs.
Teacher of the Year right here. I’m working on it.
Mississippi gets a bad rap, some of it deserved. I could choose to pretend it’s all obesity and teen pregnancy, or I could bring what I know about agriculture, a slower pace of life, and an all-around rich culture that is another part of the country my kids live in.
This week, a kid asked his mom if they could take a family vacation to Mississippi. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. You’re welcome, Mississippi Board of Tourism.
21 1 / 2014
As I type, there are a billion inches of snow outside and more coming down. Not a billion exactly. But enough for the mayor to declare a state of emergency. To a southerner, this means running to the store for milk, bread, and eggs. My father confirmed this through a text that said “Make sure you go to the store on your way home. Be safe.”
I was slightly unprepared for the winter. I thought I was good with a nice wool coat and a few scarves. And then a kind, caring lady at work looked me dead in the face and said, “I can tell you’re not from the north because you don’t have a good winter coat. You have fancy lady church coats.” So what you’re saying is, Ann Taylor doesn’t do hardcore winter apparel…
Hm. That’s interesting.
So my sweet mother-in-law gave me a real, honest-to-goodness winter coat. Just since Christmas it has kept me warm during outside recess duty on days just above freezing, errands in 2 degree weather, and nine hour bus trips that get bogged down in snow storms.
School let out early today. I had no scraper, no gloves, no hat, no boots. My kind, caring friend’s parting advice? “You’re here now. Got it? You’re not down south anymore so you need to get yourself together and put a dang hat in your bag.”
Okay. Fine. A hat it is.
And maybe a pair of these, pretty pretty please?
18 1 / 2014
I’ve been driving a lovely Toyota Corolla for the past two years. It’s gotten insanely good gas mileage and there has yet to be a parking spot in the city that looks too tight for it. But I’m going to break out my southern accent for this next part of the sentence because, ya’ll, that car is a roller skate in the snow.
We started looking around at four wheel drive and all wheel drive and you-pick-the-number-of-drive vehicle options… you know, “for the future.” The future came approximately 10 days later. We are planning masterminds.
Tyler found a gorgeous and somewhat adult-looking (teetering on the edge of family-looking) Subaru Forester northwest of Pittsburgh six hours from here. I had to go get the car and we tried to make other arrangements, but taking a Megabus was the only one that worked. Here’s what I learned about Megabus: Megabus is filled with college kids that pull out laptops to look like they are working super hard, but are really online shopping like the rest of us. Megabus likes to cater to these college kids by making lots of stops across the state for different “destinations”… State College being the snowy equivalent to Cancun around here. Speaking of snow, HELLO SNOW TRAVEL DELAY!
9 hours later.
(It should have taken 6.)
Tyler’s dad and grandmother took me to see the man about the Subaru. I look at the car, drive the car, and promptly forget all about the car because the man has five dogs he rescued and offered one to me named Sassy.
Car? What car? I need a dog named Sassy to come home with me because no animal would be better fitting as my pet companion than an old lazy dog with wild hair and a stubborn streak so large it garners a name! Sassy and I are practically the same thing, just in different forms. We belong together.
Our lease agreement in the city being what it is, I did not get to take Sassy anywhere with me and we had a rough parting there in the beautifully renovated kitchen of the one-room-schoolhouse-turned-home. I think a tear rolled down from her blind, cataract-obscured eye.
The Subaru man and I stood in the snow and negotiated a price. Here is how I negotiated: I said a price, he said “no,” I agreed to pay the price he listed in the first place. That’s not how negotiation works? Weird.
Then the conversation went like this:
Man: When we go to the notary to get title stuff handled, I can help you out by telling them you paid less than what you’re actually paying. Lower the sales tax you have to pay.
Man: It’s illegal, but everyone does it. Everyone.
Me: Nope. Nevermind. I’ll never sleep again if I do. You just said it was illegal. Not enough Zzzquil in the world for how I’ll deal with that guilt.
Man: You really are going to pay that? All of that? I could have saved you a couple hundred dollars. Please let me sweeten the deal for you then…I feel bad.
Me: You can come down on the price a couple hundred dollars.
Man: No. But I have a set of brand new tires and a set of wheels you can have for free. Or sell on craigslist.
So I drove home in a Subaru! With 1/4 of another whole car in the back!
Turns out, when I buy something off craigslist, I pay full price and haul away your junk for free. But we have a new-to-us car and I am happy to be home, even though I can’t help but imagine all the
headaches happiness Sassy and I (as an amazing duo) could have brought to Tyler’s life.
Maybe some day.
04 1 / 2014
Um, no I don’t think I would be interested in joining a club.Oh, wait, this club is about food? Then, YES.
At work we exchange soups. I cook for you, you cook for someone else, that person cooks for another person and then they cook for me. We list what we like, what we don’t like. And so far, it’s been a ton of fun. It gives me something to do that doesn’t really involve work, and yet it also helps my brain create these positive associations to work (if that makes sense?). Monday mornings suck, but I get a soup! I give a soup! See? Perfect.
I first made this:
Hearty White Bean Vegetable Soup except I added a can of corn and green beans and left out the kale and butternut squash. So basically, I took out the ingredients that would land the recipe in Real Simple and made it into a soup that would land on someone’s blog titled “Southern Busy Moms Can Cook!” Whatever. It was tasty.
I made this, too:
Nine Bean Soup (lots of people requested veggie/bean soups). This has been one of my favorites I’ve made. You could make this for a vegetarian by using vegetable stock and olive oil for the bacon and beef stock. Or you could just cook it with a few slices of bacon then take them out at the last minute and just not tell them. But you’re probably a better person than I am.
Here are things I want to make:
Any I should try?
14 12 / 2013
05 12 / 2013
I may or may not have signed up to run a half marathon in March. At that point I will be saying happy 27th birthday to my aging knees!
It’s a really insane decision. I don’t run. (Well, I do now.) But you know situations are dire when training for a half sounds preferable to all other hobbies at this moment.
Y’all. Why can’t I just cross-stitch?
27 11 / 2013
ring, ring, ring
uncle: It’s your nickel. Talk.
me: It’s snowing in Pennsylvania. Where are you?
17 11 / 2013
I would like to say “My job is stressful,” but, you guys, everyone’s is. There were moments when I worked in daycare that were draining. (9 babies, sleep regression, hand foot and mouth, rotavirus.) My job is no more stressful than yours. Unless you’re a professional puppy-petter. In that case, I’m totally ticked you never told me that was an option.
I’ve recently picked back up with paying someone else’s mortgage for letting me talk about myself for an hour. Here are things I’m working on, and who am I to keep therapy tips from you? Let me save you some dollars.
1. Breathe more. It was brought to my attention that I might be holding my breath a lot during the day. (And now that I’m aware of it, I really do hold my breath a lot. Hm.) Less oxygen, less blood flow to the brain, tension headaches. Who the heck knew breathing was important? What a world, you guys.
2. Practice doing one thing, and one thing only, for small moments of time. When I brush my teeth I work on only thinking about brushing my teeth instead of the fact that I haven’t returned emails all weekend. It’s weird to think about my mouth so much, but the practice is slowly creeping it’s way in to what I do for work. I’m now better at doing one thing at a time which makes me feel like a total Lady Boss when I get so much done.
3. Stop looking for a hobby, and just say yes to more cool things I already have going on. I will never crochet, sew, and if I start scrapbooking or selling tote bags to my christian lady friends, you have my full permission to use a concerned voice, pat my hand, and ask, “Sweetie, what is wrong with you?” I may never do those things, but I will go to a concert with Tyler on a school night. Saying yes is a powerful thing.
4. Write things down. It’s good for you, me, and everyone else on Earth.
See how much money I just saved you? Go buy yourself some boots. I recommend these.
18 10 / 2013
T: So milk comes from boobs, but on a cow does it still come from boobs?
Z: Cows do NOT have boobs.
T: Then where does the milk come from?
T: No way farmers call ‘em that! Mrs. Steffy, didn’t you say cows have boobs?
Me: I can promise you I have never said that in my life.
11 10 / 2013
Me: congrats! Your prize for a job well done on your work is eating lunch with me tomorrow!!
7 yr old: what’s my other option?
07 10 / 2013
01 9 / 2013
In the next installment of Weekend By Myself, I just got out of bed for a slice of cheese. Because I can. And there was no one here to say, “Cheese at midnight? Hm.”
HA HA HA.
31 8 / 2013
When Tyler’s gone for a day or two I go straight back into pre-married mode. And by pre-married mode I mean eating chocolate animal crackers and pickles with a coke for dinner, and watching 30 Rock on my laptop in bed before falling asleep to the sound of Tracy Jordan’s ridiculousness. Can’t help it.
Marriage changes everything and nothing.