I love Guest posts… it gives peeps who frequent my blog, but maybe not others, the chance to read some of the kick-ass bloggers that I love. Today is no exception… today I give you The Kraken. I love the fact that she uses (what looks to me) the fricking Loch Ness Monster as her focal point. God knows I feel like that’s how I come across to my family on any given day.
Kraken.. to answer your question.. I am ALL Lexington Style BBQ, girl!
Without further ado… I give you Mom’s The Kraken!
I loved Kristen’s Leap Blog Day entry, Life in a Southern Town, that originally appeared on Dirty Dishes & High Heels, and on fourhensandarooster a few weeks later. It was funny and fed my obsession with Southern customs and traditions. I was especially intrigued by her description of pig pickins’ which is different than a BBQ or a pig roast and a NC specialty. Those are the kind of tidbits that I can impress my friends with…thanks Kristen, you’re awesome! I have one question are you a Lexington Style or Eastern Style family?
Like Kristen, I lived in other parts of the country. We lived in the Pacific Northwest and California, and similar to Kristen, I missed my home region, New England, a lot. I never got used to chatty cashiers. Life in a Southern Town, got me thinking, what are some of my beloved New Englanders quirks and traits. What don’t you know about us?
New York ends in West Hartford, Connecticut, and New England begins in East Hartford, Connecticut,
Hartford is our Switzerland, without the watches and chocolate; instead we have lots insurance company workers.
Weather: New Englanders are obsessed with the weather. Most conversations begin with: oh my, its cold out–what else would it be in January. Oh dear, it’s hot–it is every July. We have lots of weather events to talk about. In the twelve years I’ve lived in my quaint New England Town, we’ve experienced: blizzards, ice storms, floods, tornadoes (one passed through my neighborhood. I shoved six kids into a closet next to our chimney) earthquake, hurricane, locusts and ghouls—just joshing you, never seen a ghoul. We have five seasons—summer, fall, winter, mud and spring.
We have a weird obsession with white. We have white churches, white houses and feel deep despair when we don’t have white Christmases. We also have strict rules about wearing white; it should never be worn before Memorial Day and NEVER after Labor Day. We call winter white, cream, so we don’t break our own rules.
Clannish: We are clannish and have allegiance issues and we’re not afraid to find out what yours are. You’ll be asked:
Where are you from? We’re not asking what town do you live in we want to know where your ancestors are from. The closer you are generationally to the old country, the more impressive you’ll be.
What’s your team? Yankees and Giants or Bo Sox and Pats? Or are you a fan of the hapless and forgotten teams, Mets, Jets and Hockey…I know, hockey is sport and not a team but the rest of the country doesn’t know that.
What’s your religion Old School…is there anything else?
My stepsister recently had a conversation with a patient that sums up my point.
Patient: What religion are you?
Patient: But you were raised a Catholic?
SS: No I was raised Episcopalian.
Patient: They’re almost Catholics, so you’re a Catholic.
Friendship Philosophy: When deciding on whom we should be friends with, New Englanders don’t rush to judge, or make fast friends, we wait you out, see what you’re made of, but if we decide to call you friend; we’re friends for life.
We’re learning how to be friendly; honestly we are. We’ll never be as friendly and gracious as a Southerner’s (you have a lock on that) but we’re making progress. Even New Yorkers are friendly now. It started when Rudy Giuliani was mayor of New York City and turned Manhattan and Time Square into another Disney World. New Yorkers will give you directions if you ask for them, and won’t tell you to screw if you get in their way. Not to be outdone by NYC, Boston started its own ,friendliness campaign, you can drive from one city to the other and be smiled at the whole way.
We have stiff upper lips; that we plump up discreetly.
We have accents but won’t admit it.
We walk fast, we talk fast, we think fast, and we drive fast. I’ve had old ladies on the Mass Pike pass me…I was driving 85 at the time.
New Englanders are too fast and too busy, annoying and competitive but we’re also loyal, loving and a grand mix of old and new. We love our traditions and our steadfast ways. We love to laugh and relish the drama and rhythm of the season.
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