I’m a transplant. A damn yankee. I happened upon this town when I realized my heart was here long before my body was. In the late 90′s my older brother fell in love with a Southern Bell and made the quickest/smartest decision he’s ever made by leaving New York State. 8 years later I finally stopped pretending I was ok without them. My possessions and I came to rest in Cleveland County on Christmas Eve 2004.
Yankees were up by 2.
Not only did I feel a pull toward North Carolina, the weather in Northern New York was pushing me out. The snow. The salt. Sub zero temperatures that made your bones scream. I couldn’t take it anymore. I left just before Winter came heavy-handed across the St. Lawrence valley. Not once have you heard me say “Man, I wish I was that cold again.”
With a significant increase in the “southern” influence in my life, I’m determined to stay away from certain southern tendencies. Not just the “ya’lls” and the drawls…
Your biscuits and sweet tea almost killed me.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s pure heaven. But this land of plenty cost me 10 pounds a year. Approximately 1 pound a month. A slow, delicious death. Bojangles. Chick Fil A. It took me 3 years of indulging in these Southern delicacies before I realized; it was either me or the biscuits. One of us had to go.
Can you imagine? Suitcases in hand, head hanging low as I step across the Mason-Dixon line!? “The biscuits beat me. The sweet tea held me under and I nearly drown. I’m sorry, Dad. I wanted to make you proud.”
So I gave up the sweets. The carbs. The fast food chains of perfection. And I did what any good northerner could do.
I called down another yankee.
Up by 3.
Jacqui Hofmaster lives in Shelby, NC and is happily married, raising a daughter in her biscuit-free home in the City of Pleasant Living.