southern belle

growing up southern is a privilege, really. it's more than where you're born, it's an idea and state of mind that seems imparted at birth. it's more than loving fried chicken, sweet tea, football, and country music. it's being hospitable, devoted to front porches, magnolias, moon pies, coca-cola...and each other. we don't become southern, we're born that way.

i'm a misplaced southern belle, with a splash of white trash thrown in for good measure. i love college football and tailgating. i love cooking, baking, and all things involving water. i love my family and friends and meeting new and fabulous people. i think of myself as a nice person, but i'll let you decide for yourself…

life as i knew it before living in the north east and life as it is in boston.

My dear mother

On this day, I woke up with a feeling of sadness.  My mother is miles away and I woke up just wishing we were together today.  I thought of how much I wanted to squeeze her soft, pale cheeks right when she woke up and tell her how much I love her.  Then wrap my arms around her and tell her to let me scratch her back simply because today was “her” day.  Distance often makes me appreciate the time that I spend with my mother more than I ever did before I left South Carolina.  I find myself day dreaming about my next visit home, wondering when I will see my mother again.  Then I just give her a call.  Her voice comforts me and we chat together, often chatting about nothing- and she never really knows why I call- but she always answers right away.

On this day, I want my mother to know just how much she is loved.  Although we are separated by a few miles, we are always together.  I love you my dear mother.

Reflection

From the ambulance sirens nearing Mass General to the noisy college kids and trash trucks in Back Bay, I am so fortunate to be living up the city life and all the fun opportunities that Boston has to offer.  Although, I’ve lost many hours of sleep not only trying to drown out the sirens and college kids, but also the squealing noise in my bedroom- that is still a mystery.  I finally decided to start a blog to capture my life in Boston.

It all began father’s day weekend of 2007 when my dear friend Becca Kennerly and I were sipping wine and enjoying free apps at J Paulz on James Island.  We were both sort of going through the motions at our jobs, recently experienced break-ups from our college sweethearts, and nearing the end of another lease in Charleston, SC.  We had big decisions to make.  Where would we live next?  Stay on James Island?  There’s Mt. Pleasant, Folly Beach, and downtown…

Becca had visited Boston the weekend before Father’s day and stayed with her sister’s sorority sister, Emily Huzl (who later became my roommate and friend).  When Becca returned to Charleston full of excitement and stories about Beantown, I was filled with nervous chills and hopeful smiles.  Becca suggested moving to Boston, a place that I had only heard about.  The farthest North that this small town Lancaster girl had been was New York City.  After several more glasses of vino, I was psyched at just the thought of moving to a new place, meeting new people and seeing life from a different perspective.

I remember sitting in Becca’s cube at the Ginn Real Estate office, calling my Daddy and breaking the news, while also discussing serious finances.  If the move happened, I needed to send rent $ the next day, and Boston wasn’t cheap.  After the initial “happy father’s day” surprise, Daddy took a seat in the swing and returned my phone call.  We chatted for a bit and discussed the opportunities that lied ahead and moments later, I was signing a lease and placing postage on my first rent check in another state…far, far away.

The following day, I presented Lowe & Associates with my 2 week notice.  On June 29th, 2007, I packed my honda accord and headed home.  I spent 3 weeks with family and friends, enjoyed sweet tea and grits, front porch chatter, warm weather and humidity, etc. and on July 16th, the wheels were turning.  Mom and Daddy drove me to Charleston and loaded the Budget truck.  Hours later, Becca and I were on the road and heading north.  The rest is history y’all.

Stay tuned….

Happy Birthday to my roommate Sarah!

Happy Birthday to my roommate Sarah!

life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all helen keller