A redaction, of sorts

Dear all,

Earlier today, I posted a...post...about a satirical blog that had received press coverage in the Deseret Morning News; I was wondering what people thought about it. However, throughout the day, I realized that I probably ought to take the link down. See, I started reading the fake blog and, while I can see from where the humor derives, it also has certain elements with which I don't want *my* blog to be associated. (It's treatment of spousal intimacy, for example, was a bit, uh, coy and perverse at the same time. It's hard to describe.)

My cousin-in-law, Kirsten, commented on the matter, saying:

"Um, I'm not sure what to think, I found it somewhat amusing, and I kinda really want one of the t-shirts, but it started to really get on my nerves. It reminded me of these books that I had just finished reading that are set in the future, and the powers-that-be mandate a special surgery where everyone comes out braindamaged but happy and superficial all the time and life's perfect, and life's one big party, etc. etc. I know it's a big joke, and we've all seen (or written) blog posts with certain elements that she's making fun of, but it got old pretty fast."

Interesting comment, Kirsten--hence, I'm reprinting it here. What books were those, by the way? It sounds a lot like Kurt Vonegut's "Harrison Bergeron," but that's a short story.

Thus, I have deleted the post. Anyone who's sufficiently motivated can, I'm sure, find it, if they so desire.

Memory Game

Our impending move to Missisippi has made me a bit nostalgic. My aunt Carrie's blog gave me the idea to have friends/family share some memories.
Here are the rules.
1. As a comment on my blog, leave a memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you know me a little or a lot, anything you remember!
2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll be sure to write one about you... either on your blog, in my comment box, or I will email you back!
3. If the memory happens to involve my husband, please include him!
4. If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all ☺Okay, let's see what you've got!

Melanie

One more problem with the accent

I had another incident which shows my lack of understanding of the Southern accent. I went to the local public library to ask about possible jobs. Since no one was in the administration office, I started talking to one of the staff members working at the children's reference desk and pumping her for information. After a few minutes of chatting she suggested I go to the circ desk and ask to see Miss Donna Davis. I couldn't quite make out the name because of her accent, and so clarified with, "I'm sorry. What was the first name? Mizahna?" "No, ma'am," she replied, trying not to smile at my mistake. "Here we refer to everyone as Miss or Mrs. followed by their name. I said Miss Donna Davis." "Oh, I see," I replied. "Thank you." I guess it all turned out okay except that I probably should have ended with, "Thank you, Miss." Or would it be ma'am? How am I supposed to know if she's married or not!! I thought I had passed that stage in my life where I have to check for wedding rings. Or is the Miss and Ma'am really based on age? And why are there two choices for woman when there's just one choice for men (mister)?

Back from Dixie...for now

Dear all,

Well, after numerous (!) hours in airports and planes, we have returned to our Wasatch perch. The trip, really, can only be called a roaring success, and we are incredibly thankful for the blessings we've seen.

For example, we now have a great apartment to live in. It took a little negotiation, but we prevailed. The good thing is that the apartment building was constructed AFTER Hurricane Katrina--thus, we don't have to worry about any of the lingering after-effects of the storm, like mold. (I was especially concerned about that when, talking to a member of the Hattiesburg Ward, which we will be attending, the member mentioned that all the roofs in the city had been ripped off. An exaggeration, perhaps, but perhaps not.)

Also--and I realize that this may seem relatively insignificant, but it isn't--we have gotten acquianted with the lay of the land. First off (and I know I've mentioned this before), Hattiesburg is carved out of the biggest forest I've ever seen--I think that the bottom half of Mississippi is nothing but one large pine forest, dotted with ponds and lakes and streams. Pretty, yes, but it can also be foreboding in a way. Having driven all over creation down there, we're a bit more comfortable with the environment.

We also went to church and met all the members, so we have acquaintances down there now. One young couple actually invited us over for dinner on Monday night, which was entirely too nice of them. Their two young sons, Evan and Caleb, were a royal hoot, showing off for M. like there was no tomorrow.

M.'s meeting with the director of the university library also went well. Interesting story: When cleaning out the library, the director found an original, first-edition copy of the Book of Mormon (!). Not having much need for it, the school auctioned it off and got $60,000.00. They bought an organ.

I will say that I'm impressed with how polite people in the South are. Children are better behaved in public settings, and, if you're a customer in a shop or older than someone, they usually will address you as "sir" or "ma'am." (That's depending on gender, of course. They don't address you as both, unless you give them reason to be confused.)

The Southern accent is both charming and challenging. For example, both M. and I felt that our accents were amazingly flat and tuneless when speaking to native Mississippians. "How're y'all dough-in?" they drawl, the soft words dripping languidly off their collective tongue like a deep-brown cognac. "Fine," we'd say, our clipped accents starting and stopping as quick as a drill sergeant's bark. Or so it would seem--eventually, we both started picking up the accent, which I don't know if we're supposed to, because some Southerners take offense at that, I've read.

Anyway, we could *usually* understand what people were saying, with few exceptions. One night, we decided to have typical Southern food, so we went to a nice restaurant that specializes in that sort of thing. The waitress, a happy, young blonde, cheerfully announced her name to us: "Hello, y'all. Welcome to The Crescent Cafe. My name is Sheh-a-are-ah!" I smiled, nodded, thinking that her name was "Sherry," and that she'd simply done the Southern drawl thing. Later, though, M. and I overheard her conversing with another table, which made their confusion known: "Say, what's yo' name, sugar?" "Sheh-a-are-ah!" she replied, "Y'all know, like Sonny and Sheh-a-are-ah!" Ah. Cher.

Once again, though, we have been so blessed, incredibly, totally blessed for everything to happen the way it has, and we are thankful. Very.

A variation on "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

The top ten things we've observed that tell us we're in a very different place...

1. The "Elvis is Alive" Museum

2. The yellow bucking bronco sculpture with "Jesus Saves" painted on it

3. A restaurant advertising a dish called the "Spicy Tongue-Smack Basket"

4. A BBQ joint called the Divine Swine

5. Baptist churches that are bigger than the state capitol building

6. An honest-to-goodness swamp and a crafty looking fox on the side of the road beckoning us into a briar patch

7. A farmer in overalls slumbering in a chair next to his truck full of fruit ("Jeff, is that a manequin?" "No, Mel, it's a real person.")

8. The lady asking Jeff in the elevator if he was going to church this mornin'. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. "Well good for you!"

9. Higher speedlimits (this is J.'s favorite)

10. Lower gas prices (by about 10 cents--every little bit helps)

The South will rise again!

We have arrived.

Well, not permanently, of course, but, as I write this, M. and I are in our hotel room in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. We've spent the day so far looking for a place to live; it's going fairly well, aside from the fact that not many apartment offices are open. The nerve!

Anyway, it was quite the trek getting here. Our plane was late leaving Salt Lake, but we arrived in Dallas with enough time to make our connection--however, the flight got canceled due to maintenance issues. American Airlines (Motto: "Buy your own ticket! Buy your own food! Buy your own freaking air to breathe!") trotted out another plane, but it wasn't big enough, so we had to jettison fifteen passengers. Somehow, Melanie and I were chosen and given the option of waiting for a later flight, in exchange for some vouchers. With some hesitation, we said yes, and it was a good thing we did--we actually arrived in Jackson, Mississippi earlier than the original flight did.

It took us about two hours to drive down to Hattiesburg from Jackson. I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW RURAL IT IS. I haven't seen this many trees since my time in Costa Rica. Everything down here is carved out of the forest. Here are some pictures of us driving around:

I'm not complaining, of course--I'm simply amazed. It's like in the movie "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves," where Robin and Azeem and the blind dude escape into Sherwood Forest, and Azeem exclaims, "Only in my dreams have I imagined such a place." Yeah. Places like this still exist, I guess.

We've found one apartment complex that looks promising, and a nice member of the local ward here let us take a look around her apartment there, since the office was closed. Here's the complex:




Just kidding--sorry, I couldn't resist. No, the apartment looked nice, and it's big, and it seems to have weathered Hurricane Katrina well. (Interestingly enough, the lady said that Hurricane Katrina didn't seem all that big--that is, until she went outside and all the roofs in the city were missing and trees were on top of everything.)

Well, I'm sure more posts will follow. Everyone say it with me, now: EM-EYE-ESS-ESS-EYE-ESS-ESS-EYE-PEE-PEE-EYE!!!

An update

No, this isn't M. posting, but I'm tired of switching Google accounts every time that I want to post something--it messes up M.'s email 'n' such, and, besides, my hair no longer looks like that.

My cousin-in-law, the ex-spy who's cooler than all of us put together, mentioned that I haven't been updating the ol' blog as I should, and I concur. Thus, as my sister slumbers downstairs, I decided to post, because things have been happening. Things!

First off, M. and I are flying to Mississippi on Friday to check out our new Southern home (and, yes, Southern is capitalized in this instance). We have to find a mold-free place to live, so please pray for us. There's an apartment complex that was built back in 2000--not too old, although it did live though Hurricane Katrina--which looks promising. It's got big apartments, too.

M. is meeting with a potential employer, which is cool, and we've got to set up bank accounts, meet the bishop (seems like a nice guy, judging from the phone conversation we had), etc. I'm meeting with the creative writing folks at USM.

And, speaking of USM, I found out yesterday that I'd been awarded a teaching assistantship! This was splendid news, especially since I'd previously been told that it was pretty impossible, since I'd sent my application in late. However, we have been very blessed, and, now, I don't have to pay tuition. Boo-yah! Praise be!

More news will come, along with, I hope, pictures. Long live kudzu!