talkin' southern & patio sittin'

Today the fine, fine readers worldwide of Lemondrop.com will come to understand the glittery mysteries of the Sweet Potato Queens. An old friend of mine from my intern days in New York is an editor at the site now and approached me to write a first-person piece about losing my SPQ virginity after seeing my Facebook pictures of the parade and being (understandably) entranced and enthralled by big boobies and huge fake hair.

(You can read the story here.)

I don't know if it's just because it's on another site, a site that is not entirely written by crazy Southern women, that my voice seems so distinct when I read this piece. So distinctly Southern. And I know that the subject matter influences that tone tremendously; before mom and I even got out of the car in the hotel parking lot that weekend, we were drawing out every vowel and sounding like we'd just driven up to the big city from some rural backwoods holler.

And y'all, I loved it. Because the thing is -- and I may have only come to terms with this in recent times -- I love being Southern. There is nothing like Southern culture, Southern sensibilities, Southern traditions, Southern women. Nothing like it, not anywhere.

If there's anybody who feels the same way, it's my best friend Holly. In just a few hours she arrives in Memphis, and we will surely spend a good chunk of our weekend talking to each other in accents so thick and country they would require subtitles and skilled translators to decipher. I will have documentation of our adventures for you come Monday and surely many tales to spin.

Additionally, Project: Patio has commenced! The first patios will be sat on this evening and the photographic evidence will be collected. I was going to say, 'brace yourself,' but really I should be bracing myself. It's going to be a long, drunk summer.


cheers,
elizabeth