Speeding (It's bad, so they tell me)

I want to thank the state trooper that pulled me over Friday night. Not that I wanted a ticket. Truly that is not the case. I also didn't want to go to jail and I was REALY speeding. Not quite Kyle Bush through Mooresville (128 MPH) but it wasn't 5 MPH over either.

It wasn't my fault!

It was 2am and there were no other cars on the road and my husband was mumbling about something that I couldn't hear because the concert we had been to made us deaf (apparently I'm OLD).

Course none of that gets you out of a ticket and since I can't cry on cue I have to rely on my honesty. So again I say thank you. I do appreciate my freedom and the reduced ticket.

I openly admit I have issues with speed. (I once got 2 speeding tickets in one day. Apparently I'm a slow learner.) Mostly I try and keep my need for speed in check by just getting off the line faster than everyone else but every once and a while I can't help myself.

So if you see a crazy lady next to you at a red light and it looks like she thinks it's a race please forgive me. I have a problem. I am trying to get help.

sassy in the south

Yesterday while I was waiting to pick up my son from school one of the other moms explained to me that I had recently met a classmate's mother without realizing it. There was some discussion and finally I was described as "the sassy one". My immediate reaction was to laugh at the Southerness of the word but then I thought about it.

I remember a friend telling me that every time a Southerner says "bless your heart." it's because they think you are insane and that is the only polite way to say it. It so stuck in my head that when people say this to me I have to resist the urge to sneer at them.

The point of this ramble is that Sassy doens't really mean Sassy. Sassy means Bitch but most people down South are just to darn polite to say that out loud. I on the other hand have no reservation about the word. I embrace it and all of it's implications.

HELL YEAH I AM A BITCH. I would say with a capitol B but apparently it is in all caps.

I guess my point here is that although I think there is certainly a politeness discrepancy between the North and the South it is a lot smaller than most think. The South has just learned to be sneakier about calling you out.

My Love Hate Relationship with Legos.

Whoever invented Legos is awesome. I mean seriously ass kicking awesome.

He should get an award. (at this point in my rant my curiosity is piqued and I am tempted to google who created Legos but I push that down and get back to my crazy).

My son can spend hours making new "creations" and anything that isn't a video game or a TV show is a welcome activity in my house. Sometimes he even writes little books about his Lego creations. Kind of like a superhero backstory.

So I love them. With all my heart for all the creativity they foster.

BUT

I hate them. Seriously with a passion that involves cursing and screaming. I LOATHE THEM

They are everywhere. 

Under the couch, on the stairs. In my bed, hiding in the plush bedroom rugs. And everyday I manage to find them while I walk through my house barefoot. Those sharp little corners digging into my foot causing me to suddenly list to one side worse than the Edmund Fitzgerald!

Why? What did I ever do to them to deserve this kind of treatment?

If you're a logical person right about now you are yelling at me to wear shoes or make my wonderful son clean them up (he does for the most part but remember they are sneaky!), and sure that would fix the problem but I don't like wearing shoes inside.

Not for some cleanliness reason or anything cultural, I just like wandering around my house letting my toes hang out.

So sure I could fix this problem but I refuse! My personal freedom is worth the pain and suffering.

Instead I will continue to both love and hate Legos in all their sharp edged multicolored glory.

Sunday Snowy Sunday

Last night I called to check on all my friends back north.

Wait that's not right. What is the Internet for if not to print the unvarnished truth?

Last night I called my friend back north to gloat about how awesome the weather was here while they were digging out from nearly a foot of snow. Sure it wasn't very friendly of me but I never claimed to be a nice person.

I couldn't help myself. Every time something like this happens I get to prove to them that I made the right decision. I get to do the "I told you so" dance and while my lack of rhythm is disturbing for anyone watching they are on the phone and can't see so really it is a kindness that I live so far away.

See how I turned that back around?

Sneaky I know. It's part of my charm.

So I continue to grin today despite the fact that I have to mow the law. Or maybe it's because I have to mow the lawn instead of push the snowblower?

Day 2: I blog again.

I'm losing my edge.

The South is making me soft. Even as I type this I can't think of a single incident in the last week where I cursed or yelled at someone for next to nothing. Even my sarcasm radar is failing me.

Today I stopped by Starbucks to get a latte. Three simple words. "small Latte please."

As the barista handed it to me she said "Where're you from?"

Normally I would have had some nasty remark along the lines of none your! Instead I smiled and asked her how she knew I wasn't local.

I need help. I've already watched Goodfellas and I think I managed to stop my accent's downward spiral but what about the attitude? Should I just start shoving the other mom's in the pick up line? Should I honk my horn at morning dropoff when people take too long to get their kids out? Stare down the lady on the treadmill until she cuts her work out short?

I fear it is already too late and my gentrification is inevitable. What's next? Full on stepford? I did actually buy a flowery summer dress and I was cooking with an apron the other day...

It's too late. Maybe it's like stockholm sydrome and I can get someone to deprogram me?

Or maybe I'll just keep calling everyone still north of the Mason-Dixon and tell them how great it is and how they should move down here too?

I'm going to tell them all about the biscuits and the smiles and nothing about the Pizza or Chinese food.

I'm starting to feel more like my old self already. Nothing like a bit of evil planning to remind me of my roots.

Drum Roll Please!

First lets start with the fact that I am thrilled this darn thing has spell check. I don't want anyone to be reading about my ninja stories and think any less of me because I spelled the word nunchaku wrong.

Although as I type this it occurs to me that maybe spell check might not know what I'm talking about. That certainly wouldn't be a new thing. Most of the time, most of the people have no idea what I am talking about.

Wait what was I talking about? Oh yeah my first post to convince you to come back.

If I'm honest I don't think this is going quite the way I wanted it to but I can be very pig headed so I'm going to soldier on.

Recently the running commentary that has filled my brain has been looking for a way to escape and as I am a bit too blunt for my nice new southern neighbors I needed a way to let it out.

That is of course the part where you (echo echo echo) come in. So here goes nothing Internet. My coming out party. I'd ask you to be nice but I know we aren't going to have that kind of a relationship.

Thanks!
VD