Southern Living

I got my new Southern Living today. I made myself a grilled cheese and I sat down to read. I seldom read the editor's letter in any magazine (think of Martha Stewart telling you she is going to arrange her linens this month alphabetically by color and thread count...) but this one had a head line that caught my eye. In bold it read, "My idea of a Southern 'neighborhood watch' is keeping an eye out for the first hint of spring color." I looked down at her signature and said out loud, "Eleanor, my idea of a neighborhood watch is a well organized Neighborhood Whore Watch Committee looking for the first hint of a man cheating!" I laughed like a crazy woman as I flipped through the following pages. In case you're wondering, I often speak out loud to magazines, "Girl, that dress looks like shit on you" or to the T.V., "Get off my T.V." (to Jay Leno). I came across a page that showed the opening of The International Civil Rights center in Greensboro, NC. My friend known as Chaka lives in Greensboro. I heard a piece about the museum on the radio last week. I promptly left Chaka a voicemail asking her what kind of racist place she came from! She filled me in on the history. A few pages later I get to a piece on St. Pete Beach, particularly Pass-a-Grille where I lived while I was married to The Duke (husband #1 and he still lives there with his wife #2). This was getting eerie. The next page did me in--It read "Italian on the Bayou" and talked about a restaurant in Houma, LA that John loved. The next section was on "Exploring Asian Food." I was a third of the way through that magazine and my trip down Southern Memory Lane was too much. I just wanted to read about plants good for this time of year and get a recipe or two. I felt like I was reading an US Weekly customized for me! I flung the magazine down on the ottoman and went into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and said out loud, "Are you hungry, angry, lonely or tired?" (I had just eaten a grilled cheese, I didn't feel particularly pissy, I spend tons of time alone and I was wide awake.) I replied to myself, "fuck off" and  walked over to the lap top to write this.