Yesterday, I went to a professional association meeting in Asheboro, a little more than an hour away. This meant driving through some rather large stretches of rural North Carolina, and passing a wide variety of colorful local businesses. I love the South.

Things I spotted:

• A pawn shop called "Guns and Gold"
• A gas station named "Tanks and Tummies"
• ( Read more... )

I arrived just under a week ago, and have spent most of the intervening time carrying things, assembling furniture, buying things, taping things to walls, and working out the free bus system. Other than burning about a zillion calories going up and down the stairs (someone stop me next time I decide to move into a third floor apartment in an area ( Read more... )

I do believe that I am utterly, irretrivably Southern, despite my stay in California, and not just because I have been drinking sweet tea. For one, every time I come home, my repressed Southern accent comes back with a vengance. Today I actually said, to indicate that a particular location was not especially distant, I drawled "It ain't fer ( Read more... )