The South is known for being hospitable and polite. The North-- isn't. But I beg to differ. The criteria for being polite in the South is just different than being polite in the North. Let me explain.
Northern children are taught please and thank you just like Southern children. However, in the South you have to add "ma'am" and "sir" after all your pleases and thank yous. Someone who was born in the North and moved South while they were still in grade school was telling me once how confused they were when they'd say please to their teachers and their teachers would counter, "Please, what?" They had no idea what the teacher was talking about because in the North there is no need to include ma'am or sir after everything. It's not impolite, it's just streamlining. Yankees like to get to the point. We don't like to dilly-dally.
Moving is tough. Especially when you move far away from your friends and family. Sure you can call or Skype, but the lack of physical connection can suck. It's especially tough to be new to an area when you're having a bad day. Your regular support system isn't there (physically) to help you out. But you've got to stay positive because eventually things will work out. In the meantime, you have to get in touch with your inner Julie Andrews and think of a few of your favorite things. Here are some if mine: 1) My puppy.
Biden being playful
Biden sitting pretty
There is literally nothing that brightens my day like my puppy. He is the cutest dog in the world. Grown men will stare at him, mesmerized by his cuteness and say things like, "Damn, that dog is adorable!" or "I don't usually like small fluffy dogs, but that one is really cute!" or "Oh my god, that is the cutest dog in the world. No, I'm serious, he is so cute." I'm pretty sure my baby is the key to world peace. He is the only species to charm Handsome's older, larger, grumpy dog. My dog is so special to me I wanted him to have an important name, so I named him after two great mean from Pennsylvania. VP Joe Biden (born in Scranton) and my grandfather. We call Biden Paul, "B," for short, and he never fails at cheering me up.
I've never had a big problem with bugs. If they are outside, that is their territory and I don't mess with them (except for mosquitos-- those have got to go). If they are in my house, chances are good I am going to get rid of them. Most of my girlfriends are scared of bugs, especially spiders, and have always tasked me with getting rid of them. I will never forget the time when I stepped out the the shower at my old house and from the other side of the door I heard my roommate whimper, "Sarah, can you help me kill a bug for me . . . ?" It was a spider cricket, which was the nastiest and largest bug I had ever met-- until I moved to the South.
Mama and me on my 25th birthday (cake
recipe below)
I feel like I can't talk about cooking without first talking about my
mom. In addition to being a wonderful human being, mother and wife-- my mom is
an excellent cook. She taught my brother and I to cook when we were small
children. She jokes that it was so she could sleep in and we could cook our own breakfast without her-- but that lady was onto something. By the time we got to middle school we each had quite a repertoire going. I wish I could remember the first thing I personally cooked, but I don't. It was probably breakfast or grilled cheese. I do remember sitting on the counter while my mom made homemade funnel cakes and she had me scoot to the far side to avoid any spritzes and splashes from the hot oil. She said if the hot oil got me I'd end up like Fire Marshall Bill (Jim Carey's best In Living Color role).
I'm truly enjoying living in the South so far. Handsome has some wonderful friends and family that live here and I like spending time with them. The weather has been flawless-- my D.C. friends keep talking about how it's raining up there, but it's 70 degrees and sunny here. That being said, sometimes I really do miss home, both PA and D.C.-- especially when the Eagles played the Redskins for the first Monday Night Football game of the year. But I've found that cooking recipes from my childhood, or inspired by a favorite D.C. restaurant really help ease my homesickness. I'm going to share some recipes here that are helping ease the transition for me. So stay tuned for recipes! Until then, check out my Examiner.com cooking articles.
It probably sounds a bit odd, but I was excited to shop at Publix when I found out I was moving South. I had heard so much about it! All my Southern friends in D.C. were always like, "Oh I miss Publix so much!" "Publix is my favorite grocery store, I go every time I'm home." etc. etc. I really expected it to be like Wegmans of the South.
A lot of people say that if you're moving South you should leave your sarcasm at home. This is only partially true. The secret I have learned is that people in the South are just as sarcastic as people in the North. The difference is in the delivery. Up North, Yankees have perfected the sarcastic tone. When we make a sarcastic comment, you know damn well we're joking. For examples, look no further than your favorite 90s sitcoms:
One simple phrase, "Hello Newman," dripped with so must disdain, you knew how sarcastic Jerry was being when he greeted his arch nemesis.
Chandler Bing: could he BE any more sarcastic? 'Nuff said.
Conversely, Southern sarcasm has no special tone. They sound sweet as honey, but they don't mean it that way. They think you understand them, after all, sarcasm is part of a Yankee's existence. But without the tone, a Northerner is left perplexed. The best example I could find is from my Southern idol, Ms. Julia Sugarbaker herself:
A Southerner will look at you straight faced and say something they deem sarcastic, but since the tone isn't behind it, you just think they are insulting you. Then, if you get mad, you're hot-headed, over sensitive, up tight, etc. etc. In addition, when you use your natural, sarcastic tone (the way it's meant to be) you're rude, bitchy, etc. etc. It is very frustrating to say the least.
Fellow transplants, it's OK. We can get through this. You just have to perfect your dead-faced stare.
Emma Stone has mastered the dead-face stare
When someone says something "sarcastic," blank out your face and count to 5. This will give you time to discern whether they are trying to be clever, or if they are insulting you. It will give them time to say, "I'm just teasin'," back-track, apologize or change the subject. After the 5-count, you can react as you see fit. Personally, as a newcomer to the South, I tend to not comment back until I feel I completely know the person, although, it can still be tricky. Southerners trying to be sarcastic around me tends to lead to a lot of subject changes. It's the only way to be safe and not let it turn into a "Giants jersey at an Eagles home game sort of situation." (Note: this clip is in another language, but you'll get the picture. Also, in the book a guy in a Giants jersey sparks a fight at an Eagles tailgate. In the movie, an asshole Philadelphian starts a fight with an Asian Philadelphian.) Remember, things are a lot slower down here, and I suspect it'll be several more years before Southerners perfect the sarcastic tone. But at least now you have the tools to pick up on Southern sarcasm and can think before you bitch someone out or write someone off.
You can drive directly to where you need to be and park in a parking lot! This was not the norm when I lived in D.C. Even trips to the grocery store involved parking garages and sometimes, they are even free.
My dad, as well as many of the males I grew up with, watches football. However, my dad, uncles, cousins and grandfather only really follow professional football. I didn't even know college sports were nationally supported until well after I graduated college. Growing up in Pennsylvania, people I knew rooted for Penn State, but I just assumed they went there, or one of their parents went there. When I knew for certain that someone was a Penn State fan but no one in their family went there, I was incredibly confused. This is not a joke. I really had no idea college football was "a thing." I thought it was just glorified high school football, and if I am being honest, I still do.
But I digress. College football is huge, especially in the South, so much so that if you are engaged and planning a wedding down here, don't even think about having it until after the the last bowl game has been played. I've heard Southerners say the following about weddings during football season:
I honestly never thought I'd end up living in the South. If you would have asked me 10 years ago, 10 months ago, 10 weeks ago, I would have laughed in your face. But here I am. So how did I get here? It was love, duh. Not love of country music or fried foods (there is a lot of both down here), but the love of a very handsome man. Handsome was offered a job in his home state of Georgia and we decided to move to Atlanta so he could take it. The cost of living is lower, I was getting sick of the politics and we both needed a change of pace and scenery. I moved to D.C. (where Handsome and I met) soon after college and considered it to be the South-- certainly the most South I'd ever consider living. Boy was I wrong. I'm slowly getting used to how things work down here and hope to share, amongst other things, my observations and what I've learned about my new surroundings.
The South is known for being hospitable and polite. The North-- isn't. But I beg to differ. The criteria for being polite in the South is just different than being polite in the North. Let me explain.
