Cue the Nostalgia

We're preparing to depart from Memphis in just about 2 weeks! Predictably, I'm getting all sentimental about what we'll leave behind...

Sounds
Memphis, the home of the blues. The birthplace of rock 'n' roll. The city's got a great vibe!

• WEVL, our local volunteer radio station. They place a huge variety of music, from bluegrass to swing to trippy electronica. I especially like their old-timey gospel music show on Sunday AM.
• The music at church (not just the choir, lol) - so many talented musicians play there!
• Cicadas, nature's buzzing harmonicas
• Thunderstorms, although my kids are starting to be scared of thunder so perhaps that's not a super sad one to bid farewell

Sights
To be honest, I've had to adjust my field of vision living here - I've never spent so long in a place that's so flat! When we first came here and I'd be driving on a overpass, I'd look around to see the mountains. But there are none. It's different, but I got used to it eventually. Here are some views I'll miss:

• The mighty Mississippi River flowing under wide bridges
• Crepe myrtle trees blooming for months on end
• The huge leafy trees in my neighborhood, especially as they change colors in the fall

Tastes
Everything. All the food. Seriously, Southern cuisine is the best ever! I hope that some Southern transplants to CA have restaurants where I can fill my cravings for turnip greens, smoked meats, fried okra, banana pudding, etc etc etc

Smells
The scents of tasty food fill our neighborhood, such as:

• The smoke from Corkys BBQ as you drive down Poplar. Smoked meat should be one of Memphis's official scents :)
• The aroma of Gibson's Donuts wafting over to the Kroger parking lot 

Touch?
I'm not sure I have anything specific for this last sense that I'll actually miss. I'm just fine with leaving behind the sticky summers, where you feel the sweat pool on your skin after a few minutes outside...

Oh, I know I'll miss the feeling of hugging our Memphis friends! Does that count?

Thank You, Memphis!

As our time in Memphis comes to a close, I've been reflecting on all the kindnesses, big and small, we've been shown here.

I remember a few months back when our pastor said (in a sermon) that Southern Christians have to work even harder to show God's love to their neighbors because being nice is just the Southern way. I chuckled b/c I thought he was kidding. But based on comments I heard later on that day, I think my fellow parishioners agreed with his line of reasoning; they were pondering ways to go "above and beyond" expected neighborliness!

Here's a list of what I can recall that people in Memphis have done for us, just to be nice:

• Unloaded our moving truck and took us out for lunch
• Invited us to dinner and a movie after meeting us once
• Became friends with us even though we're total Yankees :)
• Picked me up from a medical procedure involving anesthesia when DF couldn't miss work
• Gave us rides when we only had one car, or carpooled just to be friendly
• Offered us free tickets to local events
• Invited us to numerous holiday celebrations in homes when we weren't able to be with family
• Packed our apartment when I was 6 months pregnant 
• Offered a "parents of twins" discount on rent
• Helped us move in the sticky summer heat
• Threw an elaborate baby shower that unexpectedly moved to a meeting room at the hospital b/c I was on bedrest at the time
• Visited me in the hospital 
• Brought us meals for months after the babies were born
• Gave the boys hand-me-down clothes
• Surprised us with black eyed peas for New Years
• Ran an extension cord to our freezer to keep the contents from melting when a branch fell on our power line
• Provided airport transportation
• Hid Easter eggs in the yard for our kids to find
• Babysat the kids for free
• Warmly welcomed my mother when she came for an extended visit - took her to lunch, connected her with a Sunday School class at church
• And many more!!!

Well, South, you've definitely got a good thing going here, and I hope y'all keep being as sweet as sweet tea to newcomers :)  It's going to be hard to say goodbye! I wonder if people in LA will be as friendly? Kind of doubt it...but I'll do what I can to keep spreading the love!

Friendly Neighbors

Southerners really are sweet. Even after four years living here, I'm still surprised by how kind people can be! Here's a conversation I had the other day.

Setting: taking the boys for their inaugural leash walk, going around the block. We've stopped to examine some fascinating sticks on the sidewalk.

60s-ish Neighbor Lady: <waving as she walks down the driveway> Hi there! Oh, how sweet! You have twins?
Me: Yes, they're twins
Neighbor: How old are they?
Me: Almost two
Neighbor: So you must live around the corner?
Me: Yes, we live over on Heron Way (that's a pseudonym street name for blogging purposes)
Neighbor: <starts pointing out all the nearby houses where families have young kids/grandkids, and suggests we can become friends with them>
Me: Good to know!
Neighbor: Well, I just live right across the street here. If y'all are ever out for a walk and get caught in a downpour, please come knock on my door!
Me: Oh, ok thank you
Neighbor: And if I'm not home, see that door through the carport? It opens up to the back patio that's all covered, and we've got a table and chairs there where you could wait.
Me: <looking surprised> Wow, well that's nice of you! We will certainly keep it in mind if it starts to rain on us.

END SCENE

I mean, come on Northwesterners, have you ever had a conversation like this with a neighbor who you literally just met? (I mean, set aside for a moment the fact that people in the PNW just keep walking when it rains...) Wasn't that nice of her? We're totally in thunderstorm season in Memphis, and sometimes the skies just open up on you. It's nice to know we've got a place to take shelter, even if we never use it. But I bet if we did stop by, Neighbor Lady would just be tickled pink :)

Grab Bag: Skillet, At Least, Lawns, Crumbs

I have a bunch of thoughts swirling through my head today that I decided the world should know about :)

Cast Iron Skillet
Enhancing my Southern cred, I bought myself a skillet last year. Y'all, it rocks! I mean, seriously, how did I cook without one? We had some friends over for dinner recently and I made a pork loin that was first seared then roasted in the skillet. I usually don't even like pork loin very much, and it came out delicious. I just fried up some leftover potatoes from dinner last night to accompany my lunch today - so tasty! It's really easy to take care of, too. I thought it would be high maintenance b/c I remember my mom always drying hers by heating it in the oven (or something...memory is a bit foggy). All I have to do with mine after washing is dry it out then wipe with a little cooking oil. Presto!

"At Least"
Salmonista's conversation recommendation: if you'd like to be polite, do your best to avoid using the phrase "at least." I can't think of any uses that bring you closer to another person. Ok, maybe sarcastic examples, but sarcasm is a tricky tool to wield. At best, "at least" makes you seem slightly uninterested or superior. At worst, it leaves your conversational partner silently (or visibly) seething.

Innocuous example
Person A: Oh, it started raining! Sad, I was hoping we could eat dinner on the patio tonight.
Person B: Well, at least it was sunny this morning.
Person A's internal monologue: <Yeah, but I was stuck in the office all day in a cube farm and didn't even get to glance at a sunbeam, so I've been looking forward to an al fresco dining experience to bring a small crumb of joy to my soul!>

Really unfeeling example
Person A: I'm so upset. I just found out my child has a serious illness.
Person B: Oh, at least he doesn't have this other serious illness I heard about that sounds even worse!
Person A's internal monologue: <AHHHHHH! Stop forming a hierarchy of badness and acknowledge my pain!>

Lawn Mower Rage
Last spring/summer, my neighbor always mowed his lawn right around 9:30AM, which was when the boys were going down for a morning nap. He'd buzz his noisy gas-powered mower over the strip of grass right outside their nursery window, and I'd stew as I was sure he was going to wake them up. (Sidebar: they only woke up a couple times.) Today, I realized that although his grass is neatly trimmed, I haven't even noticed him mowing the lawn this year. I assume he's still a morning mower, but these days we're usually out of the house around 9:30. Last summer, hearing a noisy mower seemed like the worst thing ever. But now I barely even think about it.

Floor Cleaning
About this time last year, I was obsessed with sweeping our hard wood floors. The boys were crawling/creeping/rolling all over the place, and I probably swept once a day to keep the kids from becoming total dust and dirt balls. Now, well, they walk/run/climb just fine. And they also make a much bigger mess around the house. I wasn't feeling too well earlier this week, so I spent the day laying on the couch playing Daniel Tiger episodes from Amazon while feeding the children ten different types of crackers, chips, and cookies. DF kindly swept up the main crumb piles they had produced. Then this morning I found a bunch of crushed crackers in the playroom under some toys. I gathered the larger pieces the best I could. The mess really doesn't stress me out as much any more. And don't even ask about my mopping regimen. We seriously need a dog. Except then I'd have even more messes to deal with :)

Southern Humor

This post is a little tricky to write, but I'm going to give it a try. As usual, I'm wary of generalizing my limited observations to the larger population. The examples I cite below were spoken by white men at church who are older than me.

Southerners are funny. I mean that as a compliment :) They like to laugh, joke, and have a good time. It's hard to put a finger on the Southern style of humor exactly. I'd venture to say it often relies on self-deprecation, more so than other places I've lived.

Why, just the other day, I was introduced to a gentleman who was probably in his 70s. We were exchanging pleasantries. I asked if he was originally from Memphis. He replied, "No, but I've lived here so long it melted all my hair off!" (He's bald.) Ha ha! Ok, sort of classic "old man" humor there, but see how he managed to make a joke at his own expense and also incorporate Memphis's hot, humid weather? That seems really Southern to me.

Here's another common punchline: Alabama. As in, the state, and that people from Alabama aren't very smart. There are two styles of joke.

Alabamian speaking: It was a serendipitous meeting. <pause> Serendipitous, did I say that right? You know I'm from Alabama.

-or-

Alabamian speaking: It was a serendipitous meeting. <pause> That's right, I said serendipitous. You didn't think people from Alabama knew any 5 syllable words, did you?

In the first one, it's straight self-deprecation. The second example is more nuanced because the speaker is inserting himself into the listener's internal monologue, imagining s/he holds some stereotypical views about people from Alabama. Either way, they both elicit a chuckle :)

Fashion Sense

I've never been what you'd call a fashion icon. In previous years, I tried to look presentable and semi-hip when going out in public, but really, I've never been all that into keeping up with the latest styles. My biggest devotion to a trend probably happened in 6th grade when I was really into wearing two different colors of slouch socks to coordinate with my outfit. And when I worked in DC, I did my best to dress professionally, which to me meant shopping at Banana Republic, Ann Taylor/LOFT, and their outlet stores.

As for my children, well, they aren't going to learn an amazing sense of style from their parents. So far their wardrobe consists of whatever people have been kind enough to buy us or give as hand-me-downs. And I have absolutely no problem with this! They used to grow out of their clothes in a couple months. Their growth rate has slowed a bit now, but they still aren't going to get more than about 6 months out of any item of clothing. So really, if Grandma wants to buy up the clearance rack at Kohl's and send it our way, we are more than happy to dress the kids in whatever shows up on our doorstep!

Here's how I decide what the boys should wear:

• Is it weather appropriate?
• Is it appropriate to the occasion/location/function?
• Does it look reasonably non-girl-ish? (I'm fine with gender neutral)
• Is it free from giant holes and disgusting stains? (small holes and minor stains are fine)
• Is it different from what brother is wearing? (I don't like to dress them identically, because I confuse myself) 

Pretty low bar, you see :)

A few months ago, DF and I started volunteering in the church nursery with kids slightly older than ours. It's given me a whole new window into children's fashion in the South. One Sunday, we had four boys in class, and all four of them were wearing the same sandals. How did their parents all coordinate that? Saltwater sandals must be the Southern way. The boys and girls in our class always look so...fancy. It's the only word I can come up with. They're always wearing something monogrammed with their initials, or smocked, or with a frilly collar, etc. Meanwhile, my kids are sporting khaki shorts and polo shirts, because those are their nice clothes.

I'm glad I have boys. If my twins were girls, I think I'd feel more pressure to dress them stylishly, just because of gender stereotypes. Or knowing my luck, I'd have wound up with two girls who were obsessed with fashion! So far, the boys haven't exhibited any particular style preference. They think it's fun to wear socks and shoes and also to dump all their clean clothes on the floor to play peek-a-boo with them. Ok, I can handle that.

Assimilation or Cultural Appropriation?

Living in the South is tricky sometimes. It's obvious to most people I meet that I'm not from here as soon as I've spoken a sentence. I'm not really trying to become a Southerner, yet I find my vocabulary shifting a bit. The allure of y'all is difficult to resist, y'all! Now that I've gotten used to hearing y'all frequently, it sounds so much more polite to me than you guys. I admit to using it in written communication when "you" seems too vague. But I still don't say it all that often because it makes me feel like an imposter.

Exception: when I'm frustrated with my children, I go full-on y'all, such as "y'all need to quiet down and take a nap!" I mean, they're Southerners, right? I'm sure they understand me.

Of late, I've noticed DF picking up a few new expressions. His latest is fixin' to. I think he's trying to teach it to the boys, too - I heard him tell them, "We're fixing to leave, so let's put on your shoes." I admit to rolling my eyes! But then I thought, why should I let it bother me? Am I the cultural assimilation police who decides when a person can and can't adapt? If he wants to speak like a Memphian, it's probably ok. Plus, as he likes to point out, although he grew up in the Midwest, his pastor was from Texas and taught him lots of Southernisms when he was young and impressionable.

But at what point do we start to look like posers? Unless I develop a legit drawl, wear makeup whenever I leave the house, and start hanging burlap craft projects on my front door, no one is going to mistake me for a Southerner anytime soon. If I adopt the dialect of the people without the other cultural norms, it feels inauthentic to me.

Then I thought about another perspective - what about the refugees who are my ESOL students? If one of them said, "I'm fixing to go to the store," I'd be mighty impressed by their excellent grasp of local idioms. (As it is, I'd be happy if some of them could manage "I go store"...) I guess it's because I assume the refugees will live in Memphis for many years, so it's best that they start assimilating sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, my family probably won't stay here long term, so why do I need to incorporate Southern expressions if my Northwestern English is usually understood? Hmm, but even if we moved to a foreign country for only a couple years, I'd definitely try my best to learn that new language. I'm conflicted...

Coziness

As the weather finally cools down in the mid-South, I'm enjoying this cozy season of the year. It's time to break out our boots, scarves, and puffy vests. I put flannel sheets on the bed, and now I can go to sleep more easily because I'm not cold! When I opened my sweater drawer the other day, I felt like I was saying hello to old friends who I hadn't seen in months.

Oh, and slippers! I almost forgot about my toasty toes. Last year, I received these excellent slippers as a Christmas present (the brand is Haflinger, if you're curious). They are perfect for our house with hardwood floors because they are made of wool (for warmth), plus they have these texturized dots on the bottom to provide traction without being noisy. My previous slippers had plastic (?) soles, so I was always clacking around, and I'd kick them off in the hallway before going in to bedroom to check on sleeping babies.

Summer lasted too long this year, in my opinion. I was tired of being hot and sweaty all the time. Does this love of cold weather make me not a Southerner? Or, does the fact that I feel like 60 degrees is cold mean I have adapted to my current climate?

Hello, fall!

p.s. Stay tuned for March when I start whining with, "Brr, I'm cold! I'm tired of sleeping on flannel sheets! When is spring going to get here??"

Geographical Politics

Here's a fairly obvious observation: some people are really into politics. Let me clarify - certain people identify parts of the country as "desirable" or "undesirable" based on the region's political leanings. We hadn't even lived in TN for a year when a woman I'd just met learned we moved from Seattle. She replied, "Oh, how did you stand living there? It's so liberal!" I thought this was a strange thing to say to a person to whom she'd just been introduced. What did she know about my personal political beliefs at that point? Nothing. And we weren't talking about anything remotely political before I mentioned where I used to live, so why did she leap to that topic?

I just don't get it. When I meet a new person, it has never occurred to me to comment on the "redness" or "blueness" of the person's home state. For example, let's say I met someone from Rhode Island. First of all, I'd be excited because it's a pretty small state, and there aren't too many Rhode Islanders running around! So I'd probably comment on that. Second, I'd say, "Oh, my cousin went to college in Newport! She really loved it." See what I did there? I said something positive about the area in attempts to form a connection with this stranger and be friendly. This is what I thought Southerners were supposed to be good at! And really, almost all Southerners are. Usually when I mention I'm from the NW, I hear comments like, "Oh, we went on vacation to Washington State a few years ago and just loved it!" Or, "What a beautiful part of the country! I'd love to visit Crater Lake someday." Or even, "Does it really rain as much as everyone says?" I don't really mind that last one because the person is asking for more information.

What I would not say about Rhode Island is, "Ugh, that state is so full of liberal Yankees!" Do you know why not? Because that isn't very friendly. And I've never even been there, so how do I know?

I mean, spoiler alert, I tend to be fairly liberal myself. I grew up in the NW, you know! It seeped into my bones, like moss growing on rocks in the damp winters. Do people here assume that I must be conservative because I live in Tennessee now? Most likely, any liberal tendencies I was harboring washed away as I crossed the mighty Mississippi...right?

Perhaps this is a generational difference. There have been maybe three Southerners total who've made these sorts of comments to (upon first introduction), and all of them have been a good 30+ years my senior. 

I suspect this is not just a Memphis phenomenon though, because when we announced we were leaving Seattle for the South, I had a couple NW friends say similar things to me, but in reverse. (Like, "Oh, I could never live there! It's so conservative!") And those people were of my generation. Uh oh, the polarization is spreading... 

My advice is, get to know your neighbors and be nice to people, regardless of who you're voting for in the upcoming election!

P.S. On second thought, if I met a person from North Korea, I would probably feel compelled to comment on politics, at least to the effect of, "Wow, I've heard that's a really closed country! How did you get out of there?" But other than NK, I shall attempt not to bring up politics upon first meeting someone :)

Generational Naming

I'm not sure if it's a Southern or US-wide trend, but I noticed that around Memphis at least, it's not very common for grandparents to go by "Grandma" and "Grandpa." It seems like almost everyone has their own pet name, whether it's Mimi, Nana, MeMaw, Popsie, Granddaddy, or Papa.

Apparently, there's a whole website dedicated to picking your grandparent name. Who knew?!

I always referred to my own grandparents as Grandma/pa + Last Name, like "Grandpa Jones." I never really noticed what my friends called their grandparents, but I think that nomenclature was fairly common in the Northwest, at least in the 80s. Perhaps the times they are a changin'. For our kids, I told their grandparents they could pick their own name if they wanted to. For now, we're sticking with Grandma and Grandpa all around. We'll see if the boys come up with anything more creative once they start talking.

Most Southern parents seem to go by "Mama" and "Daddy" to their own kids, I think, more so than "Mom" and "Dad." However, I should be caveating this whole post that it's mainly based on my observations of white, middle-upper class families from my church, which is populated primarily by traditional Southerners.

When it comes to naming one's offspring, there are some unique Southern traditions afoot. For example, say your maiden name was Jane Jones. You marry Steve Smith. It would be fairly common for your son to then be named Jones Smith. I've heard this with some rather...interesting...maiden names that really don't seem like first name material, but in this case the kid usually gets a more normal nickname at least.

For those of you who know my maiden name, I don't think you'll be surprised to hear we did not carry on that tradition :)  If you don't know it, just imagine something German with a whole lot of consonants. Like Pfretzschner. Oh but don't worry, we'll call him "Schnerzie"!

In other naming news, I've decided that the babies need new pseudonyms for the blog. Baby A and Baby B are so 2015. So from now on, I'm going to call them Gus and Gibson, in honor of the restaurants that fueled my growing belly during pregnancy!

Bugs of the South: Midnight Edition

Well, it happened again. I had another late-night cockroach encounter. Sheesh, bugs, why don't you just leave me alone?!

A couple nights ago, I was soooo tired. Both babies have been fighting sleep lately. B was sick; I don't know what was going on with A. I had spent forever convincing them to fall asleep last night, and they finally gave up. I crawled into bed, quietly, so as not to awaken DF. Curling up and thinking sleepy thoughts, I suddenly heard a rustling noise.

"What was that?" I thought to myself. "Is something crawling around outside?" I focused on the sound and determined that it was coming from...inside the house! It seemed to be emanating from near the door to our master bathroom.

Now, I should mention, we moved into this house last summer and less than a week later, I was in the hospital on bedrest at 29 weeks pregnant. As a result, we never fully unpacked. We still have a few piles of belongings sitting around in corners. Although I know this is known pest-encouraging behavior, I have yet to actually pick things up...

Ok, back to the night of the story. <scritch scritch scratch> came the noise from the corner of the room, getting louder. My imagination raced. "Is it a mouse? A baby squirrel?" (I've been concerned that a squirrel family has taken up residence in our attic.) I fumbled in the dark for my phone, not remembering how to activate the flashlight app. I leaned over towards the noisy corner and shone my screen as best I could, pretty sure I was going to find a mouse and have no idea what to do next. Then I saw a gigantic cockroach frolicking in a plastic sack of toiletries! ACK! Once it caught sight of the light, it jumped off the sack and ran to hide in a corner.

Oh dear, I thought, what am I supposed to do now? Trying to kill in under a sack would certainly create quite the ruckus and possibly wake up the babies. I decided that ignoring the roach would be the best option. Maybe it would go hide in the bathroom or crawl back down the drain or something. Just like last time, that plan didn't work. Before long, I heard the pitter-patter of little roach feet heading across the bedroom floor. I couldn't take it. I hopped up out of bed and grabbed a big handful of toilet paper as a weapon. (Wimpy weapon, in hindsight.) I turned on my phone flashlight again and pounced on the bug, but of course it scurried away...out of our bedroom...and ran under the door into the babies' room. DOUBLE ACK! MY CHILDREN ARE NOW UNDER THREAT FROM A DISGUSTING INVADER!

Quickly reassessing my strategy, I ran to the bathroom where I knew I had an empty plastic cup. Now, the tricky part was to catch the bug without disturbing two sleeping babies. I opened the door as quietly as possible, shone the flashlight down on the floor, and observed the roach running full speed ahead toward Baby A's crib. He bounced off the crib skirt and flipped onto his back. Seizing this moment of my opponent's weakness, I swooped down with the cup and trapped the bug on the floor. Success! Now I just had to pull the cup out of the bedroom along the floor without making too much noise.

Once I had the cup + roach in the hallway, I grabbed a piece of junk mail and slid it under the cup so I could transport my prisoner outside and toss him unceremoniously in the dirt next to the garbage can. Back from whence you came, varmint! I would've stomped on him, but I wasn't wearing shoes, and he ran into hiding before I could shod myself.

Whew, victory! My adrenaline was pumping and it took me quite awhile to fall asleep after that. I think the bugs and I should enact a cease-fire line that extends around the perimeter of the house. Wonder if they'll send their prime minister over to negotiate? Or maybe that was him, and I threw him out the door...

Things That Make You Go Eeeek!

This is the latest in my occasional series, Bugs of the South. Do not read this post if you don't like stories of creepy crawly critters. You have been warned!

We've lived in Memphis for almost 3 years now. In that brief period of time, I've had enough encounters with cockroaches to last me a lifetime. Seriously, eww! They need to leave me alone. Since they seem intent on cohabitating with me, I'll cope by recording the more disgusting of my encounters with them.

But first, a photo of a flower garden at the Alabama State Capitol. There are probably some bugs living here. I'm ok with that. I'm just posting this picture at the top so when I link to my blog on Facebook, people don't have to see a roach picture!


Roach on the Garbage Can
When I used to work from home (when we lived in an apartment), I had a desk set up in our spare bedroom where I camped out with my laptop. Under the desk, I had a little garbage can. One day as I went to get up from my chair, I glanced down and saw a GIGANTIC cockroach perched on the side of the garbage can. I was too paralyzed by fear to move, so of course I had to grab my phone to take a picture of the humongous invader.


After gathering my wits, I used a piece of paper to knock the roach into the garbage can. Then, I flipped the can over, trapping the bug inside. I slid a piece of cardboard over the opening, then carried the whole collection outside where I dumped the contents on the sidewalk and thwacked the roach with a shoe. Victory, Salmonista!

Things That Go Scratch In the Night
When we moved into a rental house last year, we had a lot of roaches at first. I don't think the previous tenants hired a pest control company to spray, and I also think they were kind of hoarder-types. Yeah, it was...gross. And since I was getting up at all hours of the night to pump (breastmilk), the roaches and I had lots of quality time to bond. Here's a particularly memorable incident.

It was, let's say, about 2AM. I was sitting on the couch, hooked up to my pump as usual, trying to stay awake. I heard the tell-tale "scritch scratch" of cockroach feet scurrying somewhere nearby. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a medium-sized bug crawling up the bookcase about 4 feet to my left. As I was a bit, uh, indisposed, I had to just let the bug be. I kept an eye on him as he summited the piece of furniture. He proceeded to patrol the scene by doing laps around a small box that was on top of the shelf. We stared each other down for awhile. When I was done pumping, I grabbed a shoe (my weapon of choice) and went to finish him off, but he was no where to be found. Argh! That's the worst feeling, when you know there's a cockroach in your vicinity but you can't find it. I searched for awhile with no success. I decided to go back to bed.

Lest you think that is the end of the story...

A Cockroach Ate My Baby! (Well, tried to)
The next day, I was sitting on the couch, feeding one of the babies. I had a pillow under my left arm up against the edge of the couch. Suddenly, I saw some movement on the edge of the pillow. It was (I assume) the same vile cockroach, this time getting too close for comfort! How dare he crawl next to my baby's head?! I jumped up off the couch, yanking the bottle out of the baby's mouth in the process shrieking, "cockroach! cockroach!" DF sprang into action but not before the roach managed to scurry down behind the couch cushions. Oh dear. We stripped the couch of all cushions/pillows and got out the vacuum with special cockroach-sucking attachment (or is that the upholstery tube?), but we could not find it. Ewwwwww! We decided to assume that, in all the excitement, the roach got scared and ran away. But we also did not sit on that couch for a few days.

Seriously, The Grossest Part
Well, eventually we needed to have our couch back, so we did a final thorough roach check before reassembling the cushions and tentatively sitting there again. At this point, DF had returned to work, so at night, the babies were sleeping in the living room in their pack and play and I slept on the couch while DF attempted to catch some more solid Zs in the bedroom.

You know where this story is going, right?

I was taking my chances, sleeping on the couch where the roach had previously been sighted. The weather was still pretty warm in Memphis, so I was wearing light pajama pants and a tank top. In the middle of the night, I was dozing on the couch when I felt something tickling my chest. I looked down and THERE WAS THE COCKROACH, RUNNING ACROSS MY BARE SKIN! ACK!!!!! I could not scream, because the babies would wake up, but I certainly could jump around and make scared/grossed out faces, which I did for a good long while.

Of course, in the commotion, the roach once again escaped. I slept on the other couch after that, even though it's not very comfortable.

Husband Saves the Day
The next day, DF was out in the living room when he saw the cockroach (the same one, for sure!) crawl up from the couch cushions and start running around on a ruffly throw pillow. He knew that he had to defend his family from this creepy invader! So he grabbed a shoe, threw the pillow on the floor, and started whacking at it. The roach was stunned enough that he was able to carry the pillow outside, shake out the bug, and kill it some more on the sidewalk. Hooray!

After that, we kept the pillow sealed up in a box for awhile to make sure no one else had taken up residence in the ruffles.

Since being woken up by a cockroach prancing across my chest, I've actually calmed down somewhat about bugs in the house. I mean, yes, they are still gross, but if I just see them on the floor instead of on my person, hey, that's not so bad.

And we also have a pest control company that comes to spray regularly now!

Where Do You Stay?

It's time for another Southern cultural expression lesson!

What do you think when you hear the question, "Where do you stay?"

1. The thought is incomplete. You need more information, such as, "Where do you stay when you go on vacation to Gulf Shores?"
2. The person is asking, "Where do you live?"
3. It's a political question. The person wants to know your opinion on a certain issue.

The correct answer is 2, or at least that's what I've gathered it means in Memphis.

I was reminded of this phrase the other day when I was at Kroger. The checker was telling me a story about some twins she knows (because, you know, I want to hear everyone's twin stories all the time...). She mentioned that she stays in a townhouse - this was relevant information as the twins try to push each other down the stairs, apparently.

Then I remembered that last year, when we were car shopping, a sales guy asked us, "Where do you stay?" We were a little confused by the question. What he really wanted to know was what state we lived in for vehicle tax and registration purposes (Memphis is right on the border of TN/MS/AR).

In both of these examples, the speakers were African-American. According to the internet, this expression is more common in Black communities. Well, and also in Scotland. Interesting!

The Importance of Waving

Yesterday, I had a cultural experience right in my own front yard.

I was expecting a repair crew to come by and fix or replace our dying washing machine in the afternoon. To make it easier for them to access the back door/kitchen, I moved the van out of the driveway. As I was parking on the street in front of our house, I saw our next door neighbors pull into their driveway. I waved to them as they exited the car. They didn't return the wave, so I figured they hadn't seen me, and I went back inside.

[Sidebar: the preceding paragraph is a good example of the use of imperfect and preterite verb tenses in Spanish!]

About half an hour later, I heard a knock on the front door. I expected it to be the appliance repair people, but when I opened the door, I saw my neighbor. She said, "I just wanted to come over and apologize for not waving back to you earlier. We were coming home from a funeral and we were a bit down, so I'm sorry." I was surprised! I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Don't worry about it!" I gave her a hug. 

Then the babies squawked and she said, "Oh, are the boys awake? Can I see them?" She came into the playroom and cooed over them for awhile. (Unfortunately they were in a pretty bad mood due to not taking a nap, so they screamed a lot...it isn't polite to scream at your admiring visitors, boys.)

For context, these neighbors are probably about 80 years old. They have lived in their house for 50 years. They are kindly grandparent types :)

What I learned from this interaction:

• It is vitally important to wave at your neighbors in the South. The only acceptable excuses for not waving are extreme personal distress (grief/sorrow), or probably illness/injury.
• If you do not wave at a neighbor, you should apologize when you are able and offer an explanation for your rude behavior.
• Or, perhaps, if you want to visit your neighbor and see some cute babies, you can do so under the guise of apologizing for lack-of-waving.

I Might Could Come See Your New Early Attic if I Didn't Have a Hitch in My Getalong

Welcome to the latest in my occasional series on southern expressions! Seriously, one of my favorite things about living in the South is hearing all the interesting things that people say here. I've picked up on a couple more since my last post on the topic.

Might could

Meaning: might be able to
Example: I might could stop by your house on Saturday after the kids' soccer game.

I actually first heard this expression in Seattle. I had a coworker who I believe was also from the Northwest, but her parents were from the South. One day I heard her on the phone with a customer discussing when a product would arrive, and she said, "We might could get that to you by Friday." I was seriously scratching my head over that one and figured she had mis-spoken, because what in the heck was "might could" supposed to mean? Would the product arrive by Friday or not??

In the South, though, might could is alive and well! There are many variations of this phrase, I've discovered. For example, you can say, "might ought to" (which is actually pronounced might otta).

Example: We might otta leave soon or else we'll miss seeing Suzy.
Translation: We should leave soon

It can also be used in the past conditional tense, like this.

Example: Oh, I wish I'd known you were coming to Memphis last weekend! We might coulda [could have] met up for some BBQ! 

Early Attic
This phrase is so unique that I can't really find many references to it on the internet, at least to its definition. I feel as if I've stumbled upon a cultural relic, a rare archaeological-linguistic discovery! I just heard this one last week when a group of ladies were discussing furniture. One said, "Oh, when we first got married, most of our pieces were early attic." Another said, "Our house was full of early attic!" A couple of them laughed. I was really confused. I wondered if "Early Attic" was a brand of furniture or something, so I asked the person I was sitting by. She explained that it's a Southern expression meaning "hand-me down" because it refers to items that have collected in someone's attic. It's like a joke on "Early American" style furniture and is supposed to make your hand-me-downs sound fancier when you call them "Early Attic."

Ha ha! I like it!

A Hitch in Your Getalong
Meaning: you're moving/working/doing something too slowly, perhaps because of some impediment, whether temporary or permanent

I'm not 100% clear on the meaning of this expression. It was explained to me thusly: a person is walking too slowly and not keeping up with the rest of the group. One group member might turn back and say, "What's the matter? You got a hitch in your getalong?" I think that's a way to tell the person to hurry up.

However, the internet is now telling me it could mean the person has a limp or other type of problem that prevents them from moving as quickly as desired. It seems further field research is required on this topic...

Good thing I like field research :)

Southerners - if I have mangled any of these, please correct me! I'm trying to be a good anthropologist/social observer!

Jury Duty (part I)

Last week, I received a summons to report for jury duty on December 3. It had been mailed about a week earlier to my old address, but lucky for me, our mail forwarding is still in effect. The notice gave very few details about what to expect - it just told me to report to a certain address at 9AM. It also included a list of disqualifying factors for jury selection (such as being a convicted felon).

I decided to visit the website listed to find out more information. Unhelpfully, it only directed me to the Shelby County homepage, rather than the specific page for the jury commission. Go ahead, click on that last link there and see how...helpful...the webpage is. You'll notice a section entitled "Frequently Asked Questions" with no following text. Apparently no one has any questions about being on a jury!

The main question I had was: Can I please defer my service until my infant twins are a bit older? I decided to call the number listed. Well, it seems they only have one phone line or something because I literally called 20 times and got a busy signal before I finally got through. The lady who answered told me that on 12/3, I was simply coming to select a week to serve in the future, and it wouldn't take more than 1.5 hours that day. They also told me if I wanted to select a week perhaps in April or later, that would be no problem. They seemed unsympathetic to my situation as the primary caregiver of two babies.

Luckily, my husband had a couple vacation days he still needed to use up before the end of the year and was able to take the day off to stay home with the kids. So this morning, I drove downtown as instructed. (Sidebar: I don't think I've been downtown in almost a year!) I thought maybe there'd be a garage with free parking for jurors, but no such luck. I had to pay $10 to park in a lot across the street. Upon entering the juror room, I was shocked to see like 400 people there! And I found out there were 4 sessions today (9AM/11AM/1PM/3PM) so that means approximately 1200 people had to deal with this interruption in their regularly scheduled life today.

Promptly at 9AM, the meeting began, and I was done by 10AM. The Commissioner was professional and courteous in explaining the process, and I'm sure she's doing the best she can, but seriously Shelby Co., YOUR JURY SELECTION PROCESS IS EXTREMELY OUTDATED AND INEFFICIENT FOR THE 21ST CENTURY!

We were told that they're in the process of developing an online juror system. Oh lucky me, I got selected for the analog version. After the Commissioner told us about the required court dress code (no shorts, no tank tops) and a judge came by to give us a juror oath, we were allowed to pick our week of service. They offered 5 weeks (Jan 4-Feb 1). When they read off the week you wanted, you stood up, got in a line, and handed in your summons in exchange for a card with your assigned dates. After they took volunteers for those 5 weeks, the rest of us got in line to request an alternate week at a later date. I'm assuming they also were accepting documentation from people who weren't able to serve at all, but I left once I got my date.

Want to know how this could be better?
1) Online system. Obviously, they already know this and are working on it, but seriously it's almost 2016 and they don't have it yet???
2) Don't let people pick their week. It is such a huge waste of time to make everyone show up for an hour just to pick a later week of service. The Commissioner was touting the "pick your week" system as a good thing for Shelby Co., like they are offering great customer service. But it makes the process unnecessarily complicated. Just assign people a week, and if they have a conflict, let them object/reschedule.
3) Add some FAQs to the website
4) Offer childcare
5) Give free parking or parking validation, and bus passes for people who don't drive
6) Increase the jury commission's budget to make 1, 4 & 5 possible. (HA HA that's never going to happen in Shelby Co. where the only things the gov't wants to fund are police and fire departments)

For comparison's sake, here is what happened nearly a decade ago when I was summoned for jury duty in Washington DC.
-A few weeks in advance, I received a notice in the mail.
-The notice included detailed instructions for what to do.
-I was assigned 3 days to call in the night before, enter my code, and find out if I needed to report the following morning.
-As instructed, I called each night. I wasn't needed, so I never had to go anywhere or miss work/school for an unnecessary scheduling meeting!

I'll post Part II of this series after I serve my week, but that won't be until June so don't sit around obsessively refreshing your screen :)

I Used to Think ____ and Now I Think ____

A blogger I occasionally read, Sarah Bessey, put out a blog prompt today of "I used to think ____ and now I think ___." I'm supposed to write about how I've changed and grown in my opinions, beliefs, theology, etc. So we'll take a little break from the posts about motherhood and explore this topic instead.

*I feel like I should add all sorts of caveats on this post, including the fact that I'm white, most of my readers are probably white, and so it seems a bit weird to write about race. I just want to share how my opinion has transformed over time. I'm certainly not trying to talk for people of color or "whitesplain" anything. This post turned into a big ramble of ideas. Try as I might, I'm having a hard time distilling it into a coherent whole. I'm still a work in progress.*

I used to think that racism wasn't a big deal anymore.

Sure, back in the Civil Rights era, people had problems, but I figured we had moved past all that in the 21st century. I thought that because I embraced diversity, and because I personally held no animosity towards people of different racial and ethnic backgrounds, I had fulfilled my responsibility to society. Basically, I perceived racism as an individual problem that happened when a racist person treated another person unfairly because of the color of their skin.

What I was overlooking was the much larger and harder-to-eradicate issue of systemic and institutionalized discrimination.

Now I think that racial discrimination is still a problem in this country, and I have a responsibility to work towards overcoming it on both the individual and societal level.

Why did my beliefs change? I can't pinpoint any specific event that "opened my eyes," so to speak.  More likely, it's the compounding effect of living in different places, meeting different people, and listening to stories of those I might not normally encounter.

Moving to the South definitely had something to do with it. You can't really live in the city where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated without it affecting your way of thinking. When DF and I were on our drive to relocate to Memphis, we listened to an audio book about the sanitation workers' strike and MLK's death. It was really eye-opening (of course now I can't recall the name of the book...). The National Civil Rights Museum here in town also gives a solid overview of those events. It's a powerful museum that I definitely recommend visiting if you're ever in the Bluff City.

Last year, I joined a multiracial discussion group through Common Ground Memphis. We met weekly for two months and worked through a curriculum to discuss race relations, both historic and current, in our city and region. As a newcomer to the area, it was an informative and useful experience for me. For example, during the time we were meeting, there was an incident at Ole Miss where a statue of James Meredith was found with a noose around his neck and a confederate flag over his head. I learned from my new friends, who were dismayed over this act of racist vandalism, that Meredith was the first African-American to attempt to enroll at Ole Miss in the 60s, and his presence on campus had been met with violence. Had I not been part of this group, I don't think I would've understood the significance as much.

I have to acknowledge how I personally have benefited from institutionalized discrimination. In fact, I probably wouldn't even exist otherwise, since my ancestors never would've wound up in this country! Three sets of my great grandparents came to the US from Germany in the early 1900s. Because they were white, they were allowed to choose to immigrate here without a problem. Had they been of a different race, they would have been excluded under US immigration law at the time. My other great grandparents lived in Canada, from whence my grandmother also emigrated unencumbered.

Recent events in the news have shown us that race-related tensions still run high in the US. This is not an issue that's confined to history - discrimination still happens today. I am worried about raising two white boys in today's world. How can I teach them to be kind to everyone? I don't want them to become unwitting accomplices in oppression; doing justly and loving mercy is our goal. I want them to start off by having diverse friends, but then I look at my own circles of friendship and have to admit they are pretty...pale. When it's time for the boys to start school, if we're still in Memphis, should we send them to local public schools where they'll be the minority? Will we be tempted to move to the suburbs for better (and whiter) schools?

In closing, I must say thanks to Jon Stewart for encapsulating it thusly, "Do you not understand that life in this country is inherently different for white people and black people?"

For further reading:

• The 7 Stage of White Identity (I'm probably vacillating between stages 4 & 5 currently)
• White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack - a classic piece to help you check your privilege

File under: NaBloPoMo Day 5

8-Legged Surprise

(warning, don't read this blog if you have a vivid imagination and/or fear of crawling critters)

I've heard that it's a good idea for couples to go to bed at the same time, for the health of the relationship. So although DF gets up a lot earlier than I do, I usually turn in when he does. My normal routine is to wait for him to fall asleep, then pull out my phone and hide under my pillow to block the screen while I read blogs or play games until I'm sleepy. To fully paint the picture: I'm laying on my stomach, with the pillow propped up on my head, turned at a slight angle to block the light from my phone screen, which I'm holding at about bed-level.

A couple weeks ago, an ant crawled across my phone screen during one of these late-night reading sessions. I squished it. Sidebar: squished ant smells weird. That was kind of gross, but since it was just a little ant, it was no big deal.

Last night, though, was a different story.

It was about 11:30pm. I was scrolling through the latest stories in Feedly, relaxing, letting my brain wind down from a busy day. Then I noticed some movement out of the corner of my left eye, the eye closest to the pillow. In a split second I realized this object was crawling and it had a lot of legs. SPIDER! CRAWLING UP THE UNDERSIDE OF MY PILLOW RIGHT NEXT TO MY HEAD! PANIC!!

I recoiled and the pillow fell on the bed. In the dark, with DF asleep, I didn't know what to do next because I could no longer ascertain the whereabouts of my little nighttime visitor. I grabbed my glasses off the nightstand and hopped out of bed. Remembering we have a flashlight out in the dining room, I scurried out to retrieve it, bumping into walls and furniture as quietly as possible in the dark. With flashlight in hand, I grabbed a handful of Kleenex out of the bathroom, my self-defense weapon of choice against bugs.

Returning to the bedroom, I tried to focus the flashlight just on my side of the bed. This commotion elicited a "hhnghhh?" from DF. "Sorry!" I said. "There was a spider!" He did not leap out of bed in fear. I guess he doesn't mind sharing his sleeping quarters with creepy crawly critters. Or he was still asleep...

By this point a good 3 minutes had passed since the last spider sighting, and I mentally prepared myself that the arachnid may have managed to escape my pillow trap. I had to check, though. So I counted to 3 and flipped the pillow onto the floor. A spider carcass dropped onto the carpet. Apparently when I had yanked my head out from under the pillow earlier, the force of the falling object was too much for the little guy to withstand. Bwah hah hah, that was my plan, exactly!

I checked to make sure it really was the same spider, then squished it for good measure. It was a decent-sized critter. Probably a 1/2 inch body, sort of yellowish-brown, with long brown legs. I think. It was still pretty dark and I was a bit amped up on adrenaline.

After disposing of the remains, I crawled back into bed, but not before carefully inspecting the area to make sure no other spider friends were coming to check on their fallen comrade. I told myself that it was just a random one-time occurrence and there's no reason to think my bed in normally overrun by spiders each night. Somehow I managed to get to sleep...eventually.

Critters

Life in the south is full of creepy-crawly critters. My coping skills aren't very well developed. So far there's been a lot of shrieking, squashing, and scurrying away.

Here's a list of what I've found INSIDE the apartment so far:

• Spider carcass (upon move in)
• Mosquito
• Clear spider
• Brown spiders
• Slug (seriously, since when do slugs come indoors?)
• Fruit flies
• Cricket
• Potato bugs, aka pill bugs, aka roly-poly
• A couple other unidentified small bugs
• Little cockroach
• HUGE cockroach

In addition to the above, this is what we have OUTSIDE:

• Mud wasps/dirt daubers
• Other wasps
• June bugs
• Cicadas (no visual confirmation, but I hear them)
• Lots of ants

After the cockroach sighting in the bathroom, I went into full combat mode. I decided it probably came in through a hole in the back wall, under the sink, where the pipes are. So, after fully disinfecting the bathroom, I used packing tape to cover every possible crevice or little hole where a bug could come through. We are also closing the drain stopper in the sink when not in use. I put in a maintenance request with the building management to come seal up the holes, but who knows if they will take my concerns seriously. Some people here have the philosophy of, "It's the south, so you're just going to have roaches." Uh, no, I am not interested in that!!