Different in the South, Part 2

Another way that the south is different is the way people drive.  In Drivers Ed in WI, we were taught that a yellow light means “stop if you can safely do so”.  People occasionally went through, and teased that the light was orange, or pink, not red, but people would be pulled over for doing this (running the light, not teasing.  They aren’t listening to see if you tease before pulling you over, at least not yet)..  If you could have stopped and you didn’t, you looked around very nervously around to make sure a cop hadn’t seen it.  Here, I believe they teach that a yellow light means “GO GO GO - don’t get stuck through another light cycle - GO!”  

When I first moved down here, there were a couple of times that my light turned green, and several people were still cruising through perpendicularly.   It didn’t really dawn on me until the first time I misjudged a light, though.  It turned yellow, I decided I didn’t want to brake hard to stop, so I went.  I was wrong, and the light turned red well before I was through the intersection.  I nervously checked my mirror to see if a cop had seen this, when I noticed 3 cars behind me were also cruising through the light.  If I shouldn’t have gone, they DEFINITELY shouldn’t have.  

Don’t get me wrong, this is something I actually like about the south, and have adapted to it.  I now happily cruise through yellow lights.  In fact, if I brake for one, I check my rear view to make sure I won’t be rear-ended for stopping.  I’ve adapted to this so thoroughly, that I scared my mother half to death when I drove her around WI on a visit up there.  It only took her putting her hand on the dash and saying, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!  You gotta stop!” once, and I realized that I’d become a fully native South Carolinean stopper.  

My main vehicle is my motorcycle, and that’s another great thing about the south.  The weather lets me ride year round.  I usually have my purse strapped across me, and that’s what I carry for the day.  The other day after work, I was stopping by a friend’s house.  It was the first time I’d been over there, so I wanted to pick up a gift.  I stopped at the grocery store, and picked up a six pack of bottles of a nice beer.  I double bagged them, tied the bag to my purse, balanced it on my lap, and drove off.   I was at least half way there when I realized, with a six pack on my lap, that maybe I should stop running red lights.  I may have adapted too much.

Have you realized you may have swung too far in fitting into a new culture? Share in the comments!

Different in the South, Part 1

Things are different here in the south, but I’ve been adapting.  For one thing, there are more bugs, and they’re all bigger.  I’d written about the baby alien on my windshield, which I’ve come to believe might be some mutant variety of praying mantis.  When I first moved here, my supposedly nice apartment had a few pest issues.  One morning I was in the shower, and I opened my eyes after rinsing out shampoo to see a gigantic millipede on the floor of the tub.  

A while back, at the bookstore, a teenager in line with her mother was wearing a tiara.  I couldn’t help but ask with a smile, “What’s the occasion?”

Paying Attention

When I go shopping, which is as rare as possible, I get totally focused.  The other day after work, I rode home, switched vehicles, and ran to Evilmart to pick up some household/outdoor necessities.  I was in the half-outdoor outdoor supply area, examining two of the same product to see if there were differences.  There had been an employee in there talking with his buddy when I walked in, but I wasn’t paying them any attention.  I finally decided which to get, put it in my cart, and turned to go.  Suddenly, the employee said, ‘What are you, deaf or something?”  

What do you do when you see somebody who is worthy of the People of Walmart Hall of Fame wearing an article of clothing you also own and love?

Whoops!

You know those socks from Bath and Body works with shea butter and such in them?  My feet were feeling dry, so I thought I'd wear them today.  The pair my friend got me are fuzzy, with the non-slip dots on the bottom, and green, blue, pink, white, and red stripes.  I think they're meant to be more slipper socks, but I figured inside my boots it wouldn't be any big deal.  Some of my coworkers were joking with me about Casual Friday.  I thought it was sarcastic joking, since I'd worn a button down and black pants even though jeans are allowed.  It wasn't until I was walking across the showroom and sneezed that I saw it.

Stumped (which I used as my entry in that contest)

After many years of encountering the same question, you’d think I would have found an answer.  Even if the question were, say, “what is the gravitational pull of a black hole?”, if I were asked it a few times each week by various people, I’d probably come up with the answer.  That way I could be prepared to answer it, since it established itself as a question I’d be asked regularly.  However, I am regularly asked a specific question, and have been for years, and I have yet to figure out an appropriate and accurate answer.  

The question is,

That kind of week

Maybe I speak too quickly, or maybe I’m so tired I’m mumbling, but misunderstandings seem to be the rule lately.

I was at the bookstore job, and I answered the phone.  The customer said, “A book I ordered came in, but I don’t remember what the book is.”  I said, “That’s alright. We don’t hold the book by title, we hold it by your last name.”  I wanted to check if we really had it, since she sounded confused and unsure, so I asked, “What’s your last name?”  

“I’m not sure.  Can you tell me?”

Out of Touch

Recently at work, Mr. Owner shouted from his office, “Who’s Gregor Mendel?”  He asks questions frequently, and often without context, so that I have to guess what information he wants.  For example, he recently asked, “Where’s the big apple?”.  

Ready, Set, Un-Anonymous!!!!!

After indulging in some selective editing and revisionist history, I've decided to announce my real last name, and to let people I actually know, know about my blog.

My life is crazy, but I'll try to post weekly.  As always, I hope my life makes you laugh.

Please don't knock my art skills.  I thought a picture would express this one better than just words.  The other day, I went to the opening release of the Harry Potter movie.  I had to see it in 3D, because the normal tickets were sold out.  After getting tickets, I got up to the concessions counter, and this is what I saw in my head.

Not So Far Off

The other day, a few months ago, I was cashiering at the bookstore.  A cute customer who I’d been exchanging smiles with came through the line, and we talked and flirted a bit.  About an hour later, he walked up to the cash registers again.  I noticed he wasn’t holding any merchandise, just a business card and a pen.  I thought, “hmm, I’m going to get a phone number” with a smile.  The customer walked up, and said, “How do you spell Sean’s name?  Can you give this to him?” waving the business card. 

Distorted

Has it ever happened to you where you’re happy to see somebody posted photos of you, and you excitedly look them up - as you flip through them, with dawning horror, you realize that you look terrible in every single one?  When did I gain 20 lbs?  What is my hair doing?  My nose is taking over my entire face!  GAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! 

Not Quite Up to Expectations

The back of a can of Fabreze says, ‘Like a breath of fresh air.’  Let me ask you, if suddenly all the air were sucked out of your home, would you put your mouth on the can of Fabreze and inhale? 

Attracting Attention

I had a hard time writing this story out, because the best part of the story is a motion, but I’ve done my best to describe it. 

Mother and I went to the Art Institute of Chicago, and had lunch in the café.  We took our food outside, and sat next to their fountain.  Nobody was within a table of us, but there were about 30 tables, and around half of them full.  After lunch, I made a phone call to my aunt to get directions to her house.  I could hardly hear her over the splashing of 8 jets of water shooting from the orifices of the sculpted figures.  Add to that bad reception and the conversations of others, and I was struggling to get the directions.  I had a sheet of paper on my purse balanced on my lap, my phone between my ear and shoulder, one hand was holding the pen, and my other hand was plugging my other ear.  I was looking down as I was writing, and trying to verify as I wrote. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some movement, and looked up. 

OK?

I want to start out saying that I generally try to stick pretty close to the truth as I see it.  That said, my mother wants me to say that she is a perfectly sane and rational person, who never freaks out over nothing, and is an astute observer of others.  She wanted to express that she accurately sees the world, and anything I say that may portray her to the contrary is entirely in my imagination or false observation.  I’ll let you decide.

Getting off the ground

Here's the start of my vacation stories:

The trip to the frozen tundra went better than expected.  There wasn’t any rain, and I only got one insult about my figure, two long “you need to go back to college” talks, and one tearful, “Where did I go wrong in raising you?” 

South Carolina Wildlife, etc.

My driveway has beautiful trees arching over it.  Unfortunately, in summer (which is about 9 months long here), those lovely trees are infested with spiders.  I used to park my motorcycle right under them at the bottom of the driveway.  At first, there were just spider webs on it occasionally, no big deal.  Then I’d sometimes have to brush off a spider.  I don’t like spiders.  Still, this wasn’t the end of the world.  Then it got to the point where I’d brush off webs every day.  One day after I’d been at work for about 10 minutes, I bent my head over my notebook, and a spider fell from my hair onto my desk. 

Why I Bought Pepper Spray

Friday evening at work, my one neighbor stopped in.  We'll call him Joe – he and his wife Sarah live 2 doors down from me.  He mowed my lawn the one time a few months ago.  He’s in his 60s, retired, plays a lot of golf.  He stopped in at the bookstore, and asked me where Ex’s been lately.  I said that he got his own apartment.   He said, ‘Oh, that’s why I haven’t seen the bike lately’.  I said, “No, actually, that’s another story – he got in an accident.”.  He said he was sorry, and headed out. 

About an hour later, he came back, having showered, shaved, and slathered on cologne.  He came up to me again, and asked, “What are you doing after work?” 

Alexander and the...

My dog sometimes runs away.  I think he has a girlfriend at one of the neighbors' houses.  When I put him outside, I put him on a tie-out, so he isn't just running free.  This morning as I was taking the garbage out before work, I saw a blur fly by me, and he was off. 

Lessons from the Bookstore

The past few days, the importance of the life lesson, "Think Before You Speak" has really been illustrated to me.  In SC, they have a tax-free weekend, where certain things don't have a sales tax.  It was a bit of a slow time cashiering, and a middle aged woman walked up to the cash register alone with a copy of a Hemmingway book.  I told her the total, and she said, "Isn't it tax free?"