Adventures of a Wandering Thirtysomething

It’s been three weeks since we crossed over that final state line into Tennessee. I had to do a double take on my calendar to realize that only three weeks have passed. I could have sworn it was at least a month, but I guess my sense of time has been off since about May. Go figure. Time loses all relativity when life is one chaotic whirlwind. I imagine this is what women, usually frazzled, rumpled mothers at their wits end and desperately in need of a makeover, are talking about on Oprah. Except that I have no children. Thank goodness.

I’m digging into week three at Cracker Barrel and loving every second of it. I’m pessimistic enough to say it could just be the new employee afterglow, but I’m optimistic enough to also say that this is the most fun job I’ve ever had. There is a nice people conspiracy going on at the office. I’m sure of it. There is no other explanation for how strangely friendly people are here. Kick in the fact that I get to write everyday, travel, talk about food, shopping and music 24/7, and that I have my own enormous office (praise Jesus, no more cubicles!), and I’m pretty sure that my job kicks booty.

Outside of work, life is all about trying to find ingredients for recipes (lemongrass, corn tortillas and wine are foreign objects at the grocery store), trying to find a church that doesn’t shout the whole Bible, trying to find a perfect house in a perfect community, trying to find someone who doesn’t watch Fox News (or at least Glenn Beck), and trying to stay cool in 100 degree weather or from being electrocuted in the killer afternoon thunderstorms.

People here are generally out of their minds. It comes with the Southern territory. I recently saw a jacked up pickup with a license plate cover that said, “My insurance policy is a Smith & Wesson.” Classy. But despite the white trash, the crazy weather and the general culture shock, I love it down here.