I freakin' love the south. No joke.
I mean, what's not to love? We've got sweet tea (THE nectar of the gods, btw), lightnin' bugs, Civil War battlefields and country music.
Only in the south can you make millions of dollars singing about your best friend, a dog. Plus, you can enjoy Nascar and monster truck rallies. We get to say "ya'll," and "fixinto" is part of our language.
I live in a beautiful part of the south. Mountains on one side, and a river on the other. This place is absolutely amazing in the fall. The temperature is wonderful, and the rich oranges, reds and golds brighten even the gloomiest of days.
I can walk to work. Downtown closes at 5 p.m. We're a dry county (no liquor by the drink, sorry). I can get across town in 10 minutes, if I'm stopped by every light.
We have one high school, and practically the whole county comes together on Friday nights in the fall, to help cheer along our football team. Got that? OUR team.
Children still play in their yards, dogs still sleep on porches, and you can leave your car unlocked at Walmart.
Many people don't seem to share the same sentiments. "You mean you have to drive 30 minutes to see a movie and have a good mudslide? And you don't have a Chic-fil-A?" Yes, my friends, tis true.
But I love it.
I love knowing that my kiddo will attend the same school through 8th grade. I love knowing that she'll have the accent of a good southern belle, and she'll understand the beauty of Gone With the Wind. She'll drink sweet tea, maybe take a hunting trip with Daddy, enjoy family vacays in a tent, and chase lightnin' bugs in August.
She'll appreciate a cold glass of lemonade, always say please and thank you, and learn that the AC doesn't come on before June.
We'll have biscuit and gravy for breakfast, and read our Bible stories in the hammock.
There's something special about the South. We aren't better people than our Northern neighbors, but we see things a little differently.
For instance, snow.
Right now, there is a beautiful blanket of white covering the landscape. Just last week, I was wearing short sleeves and enjoying me some 60 degrees. Don't get me wrong. This snow. Beautiful. Peaceful. But not last night, or this morning.
You see, one thing about the South that our Northern friends do not understand is our uncontrollable urge to rush to the grocery store with the weatherman's grumblings of snow. It can be sunny and 60 out, and if the guy mutters "snow" or "ice," you better believe there's gonna be a rush on those absolutely-must-have-or-we-will-die essentials.
Like bread. And milk. Dog food. And tampons.
I kid you not. Go to any grocery store or gas station right now and the bread and milk will be completely gone. Even people that have three loaves of bread already will go and buy even more bread.
It's like it's engraved in our heads. We mindlessly wonder the store saying "Must. Get. Bread."
And we forget how to drive. It doesn't matter what the weather is like, people. The gas pedal is still on the right. You can still go through a green light. It's ok to drive carefully, but that does not mean traveling 5 mph on the main highway.
But, even though it drives me crazy to think that I actually need to go to the store tonight (I really am out of bread. And milk. And dog food), I love it. I love that schools were canceled last night, and it didn't start snowing until 2 p.m. I love that right now, we're preparing to close 2 hours early, just because we can. And no one will blame us.
Because it is snowing.
And this, my friends, is the South.