Life in the South

The trials and tribulations of parenthood and living away from family from a "Yankee" raising a baby in the south.

Friday, February 23, 2007

My Secret Addiction

Okay, I must come clean. I am addicted to American Idol. I really enjoyed it when I was teaching because it was a great thing to talk with students about. Now I can't stop watching it, even though I am getting mad at them. No need for an hour and a half of music to be stretched over 2 nights for 4 hours! Then last night's results show I Tivo'd (the best thing ever invented)and watched the entire hour in about 10 minutes. Not to mention that Ryan Seacrest is like a walking billboard spouting out advertisements while he speaks. So I am this angry at the show, why do I just have to watch it? I won't even tell you that I had the home phone in one hand and my cell in the other voting for the girls on Wednesday night. I felt like I was 12!

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Know what I miss the most?

So living far away, you know what I miss the most? I miss having girlfriends that live close that I can call. Like on nights that Adam has class. I would love to be able to call someone to go have a glass of wine with or something. Or someone to take a crazy road trip to go to the Kate Spade purse outlet in Florida. That part sucks about not really knowing anyone.

Another freaky thing about living in a huge city. . .they found a dead body in the middle of the interstate this morning. No one knows who it is, how they were killed, or how it got their. How weird is that?

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

A Georgia Valentine Poem

GEORGIA VALENTINE'S LOVE POEM

Collards is green
my dog's name is Blue
and I'm so lucky to have
a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like cornsilk
a-flapping in the breeze
Softer than Blue's
and without all them fleas.

You move like the bass,
which excite me in May.
You ain't got no scales
but I luv you anyway.

Yo're as satisfy'n as okry
jist a-fry'n in the pan.
Yo're as fragrant as "snuff"
right out of the can.

You have som'a yore teeth,
for which I am proud;
I hold my head high
when we're in a crowd.

On special occasions,
when you shave under yore arms,
well, I'm in hawg heaven,
and awed by yore charms.

Still them fellers at work,
they all want to know,
what I did to deserve
such a purdy, young doe.

Like a good roll of duct tape
yo're there fer yore man,
to patch up life's troubles
and fix what you can.

Yo're as cute as a junebug
a-buzzin' overhead.
You ain't mean like those far ants I found in my bed.

Cut from the best cloth
like a plaid flannel shirt,
you spark up my life
more than a fresh load of dirt.

When you hold me real tight
like a padded gunrack,
my life is complete;
Ain't nuttin' I lack.

Yore complexion, it's perfection,
like the best vinyl sidin'.
despite all the years,
yore age, it keeps hidin'.

Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie
with a RC cold drank,
we go together,
like a skunk goes with stank.

Some men, they buy chocolate
for Valentine's Day;
They git it at Wal-Mart,
it's romantic that way.

Some men git roses
on that special day
from the cooler at Kroger.
"That's impressive," I say.

Some men buy fine diamonds
from a flea market booth.
"Diamonds are forever,"
they explain, suave and couth.

But for this man, honey, these won't do.
Cause yo're too special, you sweet thang you.
I got you a gift, without taste nor odor, more useful than
diamonds...
IT'S A NEW TROLLIN' MOTOR!!