I have officially lived in North Carolina for five days. And save for one traumatic incident at the local grocery store I will say it has been a good choice. The weather has been accommodating. The people have been friendly. The food has gone straight to my hips. And most of my money has gone to the local furniture economy.
This week I will keep it short and sweet. Perhaps just a quick food recap of what damage I've done to my heart and liver. We can catch up in more detail once U Haul delivers my jewels and furs.
I've spent most of my week with The Countess. As she is a native to this land I knew it best to befriend (read:work for) her. In a very quick manner she was taking me to the Canal Street of furniture, High Point, NC. This cornucopia of furniture factories has more backdoors than a gay bar on Halloween.
Before I knew it I was shaking hands, winking and "killing them with kindness" to get the best deal. In the end it paid off. I now, at early to late 30s, own a sofa.
Between dealings with furniture mavens from around the mid-Atlantic I was being rushed off to various eating establishments around the Triad area. First there was Biscuit Factory (don't even try to find them - I will cut you). The lesson from that trip was to order my burger "all the way". Now I am a lady and try to never go "all the way". But you best call me a priest because I gave it up at that meal.
Second came a New Year's Eve Extravaganza in Greensboro. The Countess was scheduled to appear before her court late that evening. Thankfully she didn't have her plus one already assigned. It was here that I experienced what I can only assume to be true Southern Hospitality. And by "southern hospitality" I mean cheese stuffed figs wrapped in bacon with a salmon wasabi chaser on rye.
As if one meal with her court was not enough. The Countess and I returned the following day for New Year's Day Dinner. The scene was set with her selected few around a buffet of black eyed peas with hog jowl (yes, hog jowls), collard greens, corn bread and fried pork chops. With every delicious bite I kept reminding myself to locate the local temple before my Jew Card is revoked. But I doubt even Jesus himself would have passed up that fried chop.
You can see now that I have tossed all holiday dieting out the window at this point. Between stops at the hot dog joints, the pizza parlor and Starbucks I have maintained a barebones staff in my own kitchen. At least until my pots and pans arrive. I can only eat so many salads out of a Kitchen Aid mixing bowl.
Please stay tuned. I hope to bring you continued reports of a Northern Queen in a Southern Court. Me and my hips have to make dinner now.
Until next time.
Back up the short bus!!!!!
While I was wrapping up this post the building fire alarm went off. I am safe and sound. As is the hot fireman who happens to live on the second floor.
