My G.G.'s House

Growing up, I would go to G.G.'s house. I loved this house - Westover as she liked to call it. It smelled like fresh bread, the floors creaked when you walked, and every room had something for me to explore. The library had so many books that I would eventually have my nose stuck in as I grew older. I also loved to climb the magnolia trees which I fell out of more than once.

I have been told that I was allowed to do more in her house than any of her grandchildren (please note that the grandchildren were boys -- 6 of them). No child was ever allowed to go in the living room.... until me. There in the living room was the tea set that I thought was once a queen's. The writing desk had old letters from her brother in WWII and photographs that I loved to read and imagine who the people were. On one table was a little music box that G.G. eventually gave to me. I loved to twist the crank and listen to the song over and over. The song is "Always" by Irving Berlin. My great-grandfather whom I never met bought it for her. It was their song and he would sing it to her. The piano was there in the far corner. I loved to "play" on that piano. I would make up all kinds of songs which I'm sure drove my parents crazy, but my great grandmother loved it. G.G. would play for me and I would sit on the bench and listen to her. The last time I heard her play the piano was at my13th birthday when she sang and played hymns at the piano in our house.

There is something about that house that I can't explain. Not too long ago I was in a store and I picked up a candle to smell it. The familiarity of the smell smacked me in the face and the emotions came pouring in (no I didn't cry). So, I stood in the check out line smelling this candle trying to figure out what was so familiar about it. I finally realized it just as I was about to check out. It smelled just like G.G.'s house. It smelled like the library, the pillows, the rooms I would hide in and explore for hours. I loved that smell. It made me realize just how much I missed her and that wonderful house.




G.G.'s 80th birthday


Today would have been her 96th birthday, but I know she is happy where she is :)

For a Yankee Dime, Dahlin'

I have pretty much taken the summer off of writing and am slowly getting back in the swing of things...

I'm sure you have been asked at some time for a small favor. Favors are no small thing in the South... I can hear you now, "Well, I only asked for that one teensy thing." That may be true, but favors have a snowball effect. It almost gets to the point where you are scared to ask someone for a favor, because there is no telling what they may ask for in the days to come. This isn't the case for everyone, but most of us know of at least one person who always asks for that favor. In social psychology this is called the "foot-in-the-door" approach. Once you are "in" with someone you are more likely to get under their skin and get what you want. This isn't so bad when it's a family member or a close friend, BUT when it's not it's very hard to stay pleasant!

My family has a phrase we use when asking for a favor. It's all about the Yankee Dime. A Yankee Dime is a peck on a cheek in exchange for the favor. For example, I could ask someone to do the dishes for me and give them a Yankee Dime for the work. As a child I was pretty sure that this meant I would get a dime for doing something. I learned pretty quickly when I never got any change that there had to be another meaning. :) While I'm sure other people use this saying and not just my family, it sure is a fun phrase to use... especially to fool the Yankee's!

So, next time someone asks, "What's it to you?" just say, "Why dahlin' just a Yankee Dime!"

Content on the Coast

I have to say that one of my favorite places in the world is a North Carolina beach. I will go in a moments notice during any season. I don't like a beach that has a hundred people on it, though. I like to look down the shore and only see a few people... or maybe no one. It gives a sense of ownership, as if I don't have to share the beauty with anyone.

There is something special about the salt air coming off the ocean. The ocean is healing, both mentally and physically. The wind in your hair and toes scrunched in the sand, there's no other feeling like it. Just sit back and breathe.

Take the time to find a quiet beach to take a vacation. Then try something for me: leave the computer at home, turn off the cell phone (only for emergencies), unplug the television, put away the iPod, and park the car for the weekend. We get so wrapped up in our fast paced society that we lose sight of the beautiful things around us. When someone doesn't pick the phone up nowadays we keep calling until they answer. I remember the time of not having cell phones and no one panicked. I don't have a cell phone with email on it because I don't want people asking me why I didn't respond to the message they sent me.

I refuse to let my life revolve around other people ALL the time. The world has become so used to instant gratification that it is becoming a problem... almost an addiction. A click here and there and our emails, messages, and phone calls are taken care of. I'm not against technology, I just like to be able to step back and take a break from it all. The beach is the perfect place for this escape.

In the morning, get up early enough to watch the sunrise. Well worth the early hour, trust me! During the day, nap on the beach and listen to the sound of the salt water crashing in waves against the beach... it is like nature's lullaby. When the day comes to a close, sit back and watch the sunset. The fire in the sky is a wonderful sight, because I know that the next night I will see another one of a kind masterpiece from God's paintbrush.

My favorite thing to do at the beach is to look at the stars and the ocean by moonlight. I like to take out a blanket and sit in a rocking chair to watch them sparkle like glitter in the sky. If you're lucky you may see a shooting star... wish for a little more time in paradise. :-)

For the Love of G.G. Music

My great grandmother, Ina Mae, was the quintessential southern lady. When I was born she wanted me to call her "Great Grandmother." It came out as G.G. As the first great-grandchild I had the naming rights. :)

G.G. loved classical music. Love isn't strong enough, she ADORED classical music. A very talented pianist, she dreamed of going to Juilliard. She grew up on a gorgeous farm that she called the "Homeplace" and was one of many children. She was actually accepted to Juilliard, but could not afford to attend school there with so many children in the family. Instead she decided to attend Meredith College where she graduated in 1936. I will graduate from the same school 77 years after she did. It kind of blows my mind!

As a child going to G.G.'s house there was always classical music playing. On days she was feeling spunky she played it so loudly that you could hear it before you even entered the house. It was always on in at least three rooms of the house so you could hear it in every other room. I never questioned it being on all the time. If it was off when I came into the house I would go over to the little radio in the kitchen and turn it on. The house just didn't seem right if it was off. I would dance and pretend I was a ballerina when no one was watching (which I'm sure they were). I also loved to lay on the couch and just listen to the music flow out of the radio.

G.G. taught me the love of hearing a live symphony. She was a donor to the North Carolina Symphony and would attend as many of their concerts as she could. This love also transferred to me. I really like to go hear the symphony on their open rehearsal days. I could sit there for hours and just listen... maybe take a little work so I can try to be a little productive!

She was the only person I knew who listened to this kind of music, so I called it "G.G. Music." I didn't realize until later in my childhood (elementary school) that it actually had a name -- classical music. The love of this music transferred to me through ballet and tap and eventually playing the violin. Music is such a big part of me.

When G.G. had to move from her house to assisted living I refused to go inside the house. I sat in the car and watched people move her things out, tossing things in the dumpster or into a moving van. That house held so many memories and I didn't want to see it empty and destroy the happy images.

I used to go visit G.G. every Sunday after church to take her a biscuit and talk with her. Sunday's were our time to visit. Towards the end of her life I remember walking into her room and realizing her classical music wasn't on. I tried to cheer her up and turn the music on when I heard her say softly, "Off." I turned it off and went closer to hear what she had to say. I was very confused as to why she didn't want it on so I questioned her. I will never forget the sadness in her eyes were and the way her little wrinkled face frowned. G.G. told me that she didn't like to listen to it anymore... it no longer made her happy. I was speechless and changed the subject. When I left her that day I got in my car and fell apart. The music that I had associated my entire life with making my grandmother happy now saddened her. I just couldn't understand... it was almost like the music had died in her. I couldn't listen to it for a while without getting upset.

Sometimes, now, when I am in the car by myself I will turn on the local classical station and listen to the music as I drive. It helps me think of her and how much I still love classical music. I get lost listening to it. I listen to all kinds of music, but no other kind of music can make me feel the way classical does. Classical music makes your imagination come alive. You can make what you want out of the music. It's kind of like reading a book vs. watching the movie. The movie NEVER turns out the way you want it to. The characters aren't the way you imagined them, the lines are worded terribly, and you can't stand the director's way of using his "artistic drive." With classical music, no one is wrong in how they interpret the feeling of the music. You can let it lead you... it sweeps you away.

Classical music transfers me to what feels like another time. It is like breathing art... take the time to sit back and listen every once in a while.

Jerk a Knot in It

As far as I know "jerk a knot in it" is a Southern phrase. You can either be told to do this or have it done to you.

For example, this phrase can be used as an early warning system. If I was told as a child to jerk a knot in it, this generally meant that I had better straighten up or reap the consequences. When my cousin was little my Nannie had a spatula in the drawer by the stove. It had a smiley face on one side and a sad face on the other. She would tell her that young ladies behave and that she was going to jerk a knot in her if she didn't behave. You can imagine which side of the spoon she would get if my Nannie had ever used it for more than stirring grits (or course this was more playful banter than actual threat). See below for more consequences.

I wonder if it would really leave a smiley face print?

If this phrase is used as a verb it can likely result in having your hide torn up. It would go about like this, "You are on strike three. Don't make me jerk a knot in you." Panic begins to set in... you have really done it this time. Don't even try to run, because you can't outrun an angry Southern woman (my Nannie chased me through the backyard one time when I ran away from her -- it was more fun then anger!). You may even have to pick out your own switch to have your leg fried with. Or, the nearest object may be grabbed instead... something along the lines of a spatula, a flip flop, a fly swatter, and the list goes on. Feel free to tell me any other ones you can think of. If you were being smart mouthed you could even get your mouth washed out with soap or hot sauce. I never got hot sauce, but I did experience the soap a time or two. Not pleasant.

I have to put this in just for those of you who are horrified after reading this. This is not abusive if handled the right way. Obviously I was not traumatized by this since I am joking about it now. Now a days we all just tease about it. I didn't really experience much of this, because I was horrified at the very idea of having a knot jerked in me. Of course I would push my limits as far as I could, but I usually sat in time out and looked at that hateful wallpaper for what felt like hours (nice visual image, right). On rare occasions I may have had those DREADED words spoken to me: I'm disappointed in you. I still hate hearing that phrase directed to ANYONE! That would tear me apart. You can also be threatened to have a knot jerked in you if you are having a hissy fit. This is not a pretty combination.

This phrase may sound kind of odd, but it's just another one of those Southern thangs.



Source: Google Images

The Art of the Southern Grin

A grin is an art form in the South. Everyone (yes, even the Yankees) knows that smiles can have all kinds of meanings. The movements of the mouth can convey happiness, anger, love, unhappiness, coyness, etc. It can be used to sustain happy times or to endure hardships.

You know you are a master of the grin when you can use it to convey a message and not speak a word. My great grandmother was a master. Her grins could knock you flat with charm or surprise. Most people didn't even know what had had hit them... if they realized it at all! The Southern Grin can be a weapon, so it must be used with caution!

For example, you walk into the grocery store or church (can see everyone at both places) and see someone you know or think you know. This person comes up and speaks to you. You have three scenarios and options on how to use the "Southern Grin.":

1. If you do know the person: Be prepared to laugh and swap stories. If you are at church you only have to stay and talk for the time in between the services. If you are in the grocery store be prepared to stay there for a while. You are likely to run into at least 3 people and have a least a 30 minute conversation with each (I like to get in and out -- now you know why I avoid the grocery store). This is why it is an unspoken rule to always get the milk last. No need for it to spoil!
2. If you don't care for the person: It is very rude, even if you don't really care for this person, not to smile. Glue on that smile and just as sweet as sugar say hello. You can do it. Chances are that person may not like you  much either.
3. If you can't place where you know the person from: It is never fun when this happens and the person acts like they have known you for life. It would be rude to say, "I'm sorry, I really have no clue who you are." If the person offers to refresh your memory, this is the best path to travel. If not, smile and listen until his or her name dawns on you.

Please do know that the Southern Grin is not a bad thing. Most times when Southern women smile they do mean it. If you understand how the Southern Grin works it is pretty easy to tell if it is a real smile or a fake one. I smile a lot and that is just part of me. Yes, I have an arsenal of grins, but generally they are good ones. Learn how to use the Southern Grin well and stick with the social graces.

Aprons and Cooking

The women in my family cook A LOT. We have never been the tv dinner type of people. I am talking GOOD southern food like corn bread, country style ribs, cabbage, fresh peas, corn pudding, and anything else homemade you can think of. Don't get me started on the amazing desserts! Sometimes I am thankful for my food allergy, because if I didn't have it I would still be eating these wonderful desserts and probably be about 50 lbs. heavier. LOL. We don't eat like that all the time, but it is so good when we do. I guess you could say my comfort food is southern food... especially homemade mash potatoes :) yum.

My Nannie started giving me aprons a few years back. It has kind of become one of our "things." If they go somewhere I ask her to bring me back a pretty apron if she finds one. Sometimes they are so pretty I can't wear them to cook in... I'm scared to get it dirty!

I have grown to love cooking. With a food allergy I have to be creative, but I'm learning! When I  see a recipe I like, I take it and experiment with it and make it my own. My favorite things to make are desserts that I know I can eat. I really don't mind cooking things for people when I know I can't eat them. Sometimes people in my family feel bad if I can't eat the cake or casserole they made. I've reached the point that foods that I can't have may smell good, but I don't CRAVE them. Foods that have wheat in them make me so sick (side effects lasts for days and medicines do not work) that I have no desire to eat them or even "cheat". It would kind of be like the average person seeing something they want to eat, find out it has poison in it and STILL eat it. That would be insane.

The one thing I don't like to touch when cooking is raw chicken. I refuse to touch it without gloves! I have these pretty pink ones with polka dots. Everyone makes fun of me for it! I love to eat chicken, but there is something about how raw chicken looks that totally grosses me out if I have to touch it. I don't mind any other meats to cook with it, just chicken. One day I will deal with it, but at the moment I guess I'll just have to stick to my gloves and pretty aprons. Fiddle-dee-dee!

Belles and Beaus Etiquette Class

When I was little I was enrolled in an etiquette class called Belles and Beaus. Let me tell you, I wasn't really happy about it.

etiquette (ˈɛtɪˌkɛt) - the customs or rules governing behavior regarded as correct or acceptable in social or official life.

A true Southern Belle knows how to keep a conversation going, know how to set a table, which fork to use, how to serve tea, and when to keep their mouth shut. I really needed help with the mouth part! I was more mouthy than sassy, which often resulted in severe eye rolling or leg popping.

I also recall being tied to the chair in this class. Seriously. It wasn't tight, but it was to teach us to sit up straight at the table and not to eat like a plow hand. After all of this I was allowed to invite a guest to my "graduation." I chose my Nannie and I was rewarded for my efforts in the class with a tea set (and a pickle ornament which is an inside joke). I still have this tea set on display in my room.

Oh, the things I learned. Now, if I am at a dinner party I don't feel uncomfortable if there is more than 4 pieces of silverware at my table setting. I can also tell you who has no idea which fork to use! The key to any social event, even day to day life, is to approach it with confidence. Look others in the eye at all times when speaking to them or being spoken to. LAZY MABLE, STRONG AND ABLE, GET YOUR ELBOWS OFF THE TABLE. Please chew with your mouth shut. As said in "Miss Congeniality," no one likes to see the "half-masticated cow rolling around in your wide-open trap." Last but not least, shoulders back! (Which I still struggle with. UGH).

While Belles and Beaus class was not one of my favorite things at the time, I'm grateful that I attended. The knowledge has helped me approach situations everyday with what I think is an advantage. It definitely was beneficial and I would recommend it to others who have little people!

Don't Air Your Dirty Laundry

I really hate when I see a public screaming match or overhear a tacky conversation. Friends, this is called "airing your dirty laundry." You know those things that people used to (and sometimes still do) hang clothes on to dry? Well it would be a plumb shame if you accidentally put up the dirty laundry instead of the clean clothes on the line. That would be mortifying!

Source: Clip Art

Well, guess what? People seem to have forgotten which kind of actions belong in private and public. Having a hissy fit in a parking lot is NOT going to get you anywhere. Looking back on a moment such as that would probably make you want to crawl in a hole. A more extreme example would be that trashy show ('telebasura' in Spanish!) where people talk about who their "baby daddy" could be. COME ON! (Okay, so it may be a little entertaining to pause on, but REALLY?)

We are all guilty of talking in frustration, a.k.a- venting, but please do not say anything that you wouldn't say to your grandmother unless you get in a more private place... if not for your sake, do it for the majority of people around you. It shows a little class, or even manners!

Bite that tongue and don't air your dirty laundry! :-D

Southern Happiness

I was born and raised in the South.  I know I'm a bit partial, but I think it is one of the best places to live... at least in the U.S.A.!  There is something special about the friendly people who wave when they pass you on the road, the conversations in the grocery store, knowing almost everyone in town, and the beautiful land that goes on and on.  If you don't like it, don't try to change it.  Y'all are welcome to visit and leave anytime. :-D