Accidental Southern Belle

What's a Master of Fine Arts to Do?

Well, I should be premature, I don't think I am officially a Master of Fine Arts until tomorrow. But, I must admit that I don't feel much mastery. I mean, I am probably a better writer than I was 3 years ago at this time...but that's about all. Still much to learn, ya know?

At this time when I was graduating from college, I had so much figured out, I had a fancy job and a trip to Europe planned. I might have had an apartment...but I can't remember. If I didn't, I would have one shortly.

It seems that now the prudent thing to do would be to get a lovely full-time job, get a new car that hasn't had its door replaced twice, forget about this WRITING thing. Or just do it as a hobby. Then again, there's two books in the drawer...what do you do with those?

This is not to say that I have tried to sell the newest addition to the drawer. I will try to do that after my sister's boyfriend the brilliant editor takes a look at it. But only if he thinks that it will work. Otherwise, it is back to the drawing board.

So, let's just say that graduating is a bit melancholy. I think it always is. So, now I am going to go play video games projected onto a large screen with some engineers and drink a bunch of wine. Rockin'.

Piggy Magee: Our New Friend

As you know, I am not Nature Girl. Or even nature girl. Before I accidentally became a southern belle, the    most interested I ever was in nature was when I saw a pigeon with one foot instead of two. BUT now that I live in nature central, I have been paying more attention.

MOSTLY because we bought this fabulous contraption the other day which is a squirrel feeder. I know, I know, you are saying WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO FEED SQUIRRELS? And I will tell you why: it is damn fun to watch. We bought this thing that is a chain with a bungee in the middle of it and a corn and seed thingy at the bottom. You hang it about 2 feet above the ground and WATCH THE FUN.

We have one squirrel, we call him Piggy Magee, who is a glutton and is also smarter than all the other squirrels and he figured out that if he leapt up onto the block of corn and seed, he could hang onto it with his feet, grab with his hands and then hang off in a fancy back bend and eat. THEN he does the most useful situp ever to get more food. BUT he is a giant pig (way fatter than the other squirrels) and doesn't let anyone else in. I swear he's eaten the whole block in about a day and a half. BUT I don't really care because I like watching him be ridiculous.

We also have a bird feeder now and are attracting lovely yellow and blue and red birds.

Are you all embarrassed to know me now?

In case you weren't sure--this is Piggy in his most classic of poses.

College Town Fun

If you think that this is going to be a post about frat boys or drinking, then move along. It is a post about the REAL life in a college town.

A few weeks ago, Matt and I had dinner with his advisor and among other things, we were complaining about the lack of good seafood in our dear mountain town (it is ALL frozen and sad looking at the grocery store and we are so used to getting it essentially straight out of the ocean from J.A. Alfords the best seafood seller ever in ye olde beach town--if you are a reader who still lives in said beach town, go out there and get some rock crab claws--they are delicious and cheap). So, Mrs. Advisor tells us about the SECRET way to get seafood here in town.

On Thursdays, you go to Draper Road and there are people there that import seafood ALL THE WAY FROM NORTH CAROLINA (I wonder if they get it from Mr. Alford...but that's another story.) So, I am picturing that this is like a little farmer's market of seafood. As this is a town that digs a farmer's market.

But not so fast, ASB. What it is is two women in sea-faring jumpsuits (think The Deadliest Catch) selling seafood out of the back of a truck. And a LOOOONG line of grey-haired faculty wives on a line wearing Izod sweaters and high-waisted light wash jeans chatting with one another about seafood recipes. Plus, carrying their CHECK BOOKS because the truck doesn't take cards. Just cash and checks. 

So, faculty wives. And me. You know what I look like. Plus, I can't cook a lick. Which is a problem because THEY TALK TO YOU. One asked me what I was getting and when I said scallops, THEN I had to try to remember what it is that Matt DOES with the scallops. Luckily, I remembered that if you put Old Bay on ANY seafood it tastes good. I think I might have said something about searing them in a cast iron skillet--but that might not be a good idea. I have no idea if that's what he does with them.

So, for the past two weeks, I've gone and gotten scallops which are great. But I can't get over the fear of being in this ridiculous line of ladies who lunch and having to tell them things about cooking.

But, the good thing is that we can now have seafood again. And we are happy as...well...you can fill in the blank. :)

A Map Proves What We All Knew Was True

It seems that they've done some ANALYSIS (thanks Jezebel for ye olde link) and found out that New York DOES INDEED have more women than men. LIKE, A LOT MORE. And they didn't even count the gays (I love you, gays, but despite the MANY MANY hours we spend together, you never wanted to settle down...) I knew it! That's why I had to move away. And now things are oh, so better. At least in the dating department.

Welcome to the Gun Show

Can you believe that I have lived in the South for two and a half years and I hadn't been to a gun show? Shocking, I know. Well. Now I have. Today, Matt and his friend Mike and his wife Tish and I all got up early, had breakfast at Due South BBQ (not as foul as it may sound, I mean, actually, it was delicious) in Christiansburg (where else would Due South BBQ be?!) and then went to Salem for, yes, THE GUN SHOW. I was completely unprepared for what a gun show was. I mean, I was able to picture the selling of guns. But what I had not pictured was

1. the people buying the guns (COMPLETE caricatures of themselves--imagine a hillbilly Virginian with a shotgun over his shoulder and you've got it)
2. the people CARRYING THE GUNS AROUND THE ROOM (this is supposedly so that they can sell their guns, but seems to me to be more like a posturing that says "my gun is bigger than your gun."
3. the additional paraphenalia that is ALSO sold at gun shows (i.e. Confederate flags, swastika pins, fine jewelry and candy).

We drove up to the convention center and there were like 20 middle-aged men with beards wearing camoflauge jackets standing around in small groups and I was realized that I had NOT thought this through at all. Then we went inside and everyone was carrying a big ole shotgun.

So, the people carrying guns freaked me out a bit, but I got used to it. (I did apologize profusely, however, whenever I bumped into someone.) The gun seller who told my friend Mike that women aren't good for anything anymore since they don't wash dishes or windows in FRONT OF HIS WIFE was clearly ridiculous. But the guy with the Confederate flags, the anti-Ted Kennedy bumper stickers and the VHS COPIES OF SONG OF THE SOUTH WHICH IS OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE IN STORES (and not some CRAPPY copy of it from Australia or China, the REAL THING), he was, honestly frightening. I mean, people can clearly feel free to say what they want. But I wonder if gun-owners want to be so stereotypical. Clearly they aren't because we were there and our friends were there and we don't think the South will Rise Again. But the whole situation. Well, it was just funny, I guess.

When I turned around and saw a sign that said NPR Supporters in Virginia, I thought it was a breath of fresh air, but then I realized it said NRA Supporters in Virginia. Ok Then. That seems more likely.

There was also a table of Ron Paul supporters which made me laugh because I have a mental picture of all the Ron Paul supporters meeting each other and realizing that they ALL HATE ONE ANOTHER. What if the gun-carrying Ron Paul supporters met the hippy drug-legalizing Ron Paul supporters met the loony Fair Tax Ron Paul supporters. It would be sheer chaos.

So, that's my report from the gun show. Now I will go and work on my novel about Jews. In which there are no guns or confederate flags or copies of SONG OF THE SOUTH.

It's Photo Time!

I have finally (spurred by the snow which you will see in a minute and which is STILL FALLING at 9:54 AM) taken photos of the house. Enjoy!

Main Room

Dining Room/Living Room

My sweet office--check the TINY computer on the right. Yes, it FINALLY arrived.

Matthew's side of the office...note how it is full of my stuff. Note how the whole place is full of my stuff. I never thought of myself as a person who had a lot of stuff...but I guess I am.

Bedroom--View 1

Bedroom--View 2

Sweet closet WITH window.

Our beach-themed bathroom.

Kitchen

Yay!

Crock Pots are for Crack Ups

I keep MEANING to post things here. Photos of trucks packed with my things. Empty apartments. New, furnished apartments. You know, the things you take photos of. And yet, since I didn't take photos of the truck or the empty apartment and haven't yet taken any of the new place, it isn't quite working. 

I don't want to think for one more minute about moving my things from one house to another because it is TOO STRESSFUL. I cried, I yelled at customer service representatives, there was even some bleeding. But now, yes now, I write to you from my very own DSL service in my very own (much lovelier) office in which, SO FAR, I can actually write, which is a miracle because I have never, ever been able to write in my own home. I think it is because my new office is VERY LOVELY and there is a huge window and a vanilla candle and a little portable heater.

There is still a huge crate of things to shred under the desk, but I PROMISE that it won't be here for more than six months. It hurts too much to kick it.

I promise photos soon. Seriously.

We now own a crock pot. And we are making dinner in it right now. Crock pots are the most brilliant thing ever invented for the completely absent minded (see: me). The ones who have burned MULTIPLE tea kettles in their lives, almost set kitchens on fire, are UNABLE TO HEAT UP SOUP. We put the sweet potatoes and meat and seasoning in it at 9AM. And then we watched "Meet the Press." Brilliant.

Yesterday, I found my kindergarten lunch box---not mine, but a facsimile of it--going fo r FORTY DOLLARS at an antique store. And that was WITHOUT A THERMOS. Now if only the things that we actually saved from my childhood would be worth so much. I had a red Ewok lunch box. And this was a red Ewok lunch box!!! Amazing. There was also a yellow Cabbage Patch lunch box, but I never had one of those. Just Ewok. That I remember.

I am done writing for the day. I should be updating this lawyer's website, but that is for later. For now, I am going to make tea and watch football.

W-hoo!

Good thing I'm moving...

Because my new upstairs neighbors might be insane. Yesterday they got up at 5:30 and STOMPED around like they were elephants. And today they got up at 3:45 and stomped around. JUST when I had solved the fact that my next door neighbor likes to listen to Cher circa 1985 on full volume (by asking her mother to move her speakers away from our shared wall) my lovely upstairs neighbor moves out and I get Babar and his family instead.

Today it wasn't so bad that they woke me at 3:45 because that was when I had to get up anyway--oh the world of flying, it is lovely and sane. But now I am safely at my desk in New York, signing holiday cards after having eaten a bagel.

Snow is a pain, but it will be nice to see some after the 80 degree weather we've had all week. Plus, I'm always up for a bagel, even if it means I have to get up at 3:45 and travel 600 miles to get it.

Nature

Within fifty feet of my house I have seen the following animals not connected to humans:

• about eighty thousand turtles
• some hungry fish
• little green lizards
• cockroaches
• lots of kinds of birds including seagulls, herons, cardinals, sparrows and other kinds I don't know the names of
• a black cat with white feet
• and now, RABBITS!

I Heart My Patio Furniture

I am now the proud owner of two chairs and a "sand-colored" metal table from Target. I'd take a picture, but my digital camera is screwed up. That's what I get for buying the cheap camera.

In any case, I have sat on my little porch two days in a row drinking coffee and reading The Tender Bar. Today it's really warm out and I definitely was enjoying the fact that I'm on vacation from work and there isn't class this week. Of course, today is kind of the calm before the storm because I think I have a lot of stuff to do between, essentially, right now, and Saturday afternoon. But I'm not going to complain becuase I have it good. I mean, I rode my bike for almost an hour this morning and then drank coffee on the porch. Please. There can be no complaining.

I finished a draft of a new story yesterday. That's always a good feeling. But now I need to go back to work on the "longer thing" which is what we will call it here, at least until it qualifies as being longer, which now it doesn't really, as it's really only like fifteen pages and there are a lot of space breaks. But whatever. I feel like there's some energy in this one. I don't know. I also have been having a writing crisis of confidence for a few months now. So, we shall see. Okay. Clearly, I'm still in the "I have nothing to say" mode and am rambling about absolutely, positively nothing. Sorry about that. I'm going to go and log some email addresses. That should put it all in perspective.