In celebration of my six months of Southern living, I've put together a list of evidence that I'm acclimating to life south of the Mason-Dixon line.
1. When I hear somebody yelling, "Jeremy!! Jeremy!!" I know now they aren't hollering for a friend or family member. They're actually bellowing, "You hear me??"
2. When traveling through the state, I no longer keep an eye out for Amish buggy traffic.
3. I've grown accustomed to the sight of large bundles of collards and turnip greens.
4. "Y'all" has become a legitimate part of my vocabulary.
5. I meant to say, "Seventeen" a few weeks ago. I said, "Seventayne."
6. When thinking of side-dishes for meals, I no longer automatically think mashed potatoes and corn. Now I think baked beans and mac n cheese.
7. Cheerwine is neither cheerful, nor wine. It's just a soda.
8. I've been blessed at least a thousand times and I've given up on showing my displeasure. Just smile and nod. Praise Jesus, y'alls.
9. I'm no longer surprised by Bibles being whipped out in the workplace.
10. I've realized that mentioning I went to Catholic school is equated to admitting I went to Satan's School for the Damned down here.
11. Hail happens. A lot. But there's no need to worry about tornadoes because the mountains protect us.
12. Neighbors occasionally talk to me. I'm not as bad about glaring at them like they've just approached me with a rusty straight razor.
13. I know not to go to Spartanburg unless I'm wearing body armor and wielding a giant sword. And I will only go there if I want to die.
14. I've become ambivalent about turn signals.
15. I'm not shocked to see a guy chugging down a main thoroughfare on a riding mower.
16. I no longer call a shopping cart a shopping cart. It's a buggy.
17. I now realize lots of women chew tobacco. Lots.
18. I crave BBQ buffets more than smorgasbords and diner food.
19. I'm no longer surprised to find that yes, even my hips can sweat in this heat.
20. Hearing a bug before you see it is perfectly normal. Gives you time to get the giant net to catch it.