Pretend southern trips and what I’d wear on them
Just about everybody I know is down in the dumps about something, though I think mostly we’re all just a little stir-crazy from having to spend too many cold days indoors. Plus I think February must be one of the worst months of the year. Today I had a bad case of the Mondays and was extra glum (I heard that word on the radio today!) in the thrift stores, and I just wished that I could skip ahead to Friday night, when I wouldn’t have any work left, and I could sit on the couch and watch the Olympics, which I’m not even that crazy about to start with. But if the idea of being lazy sounds nice, then the idea of being lazy on a trip to some warm Southern spot sounds even better. Planning out fake Spring weather trips and coming up with the (out of my reach, and mostly See By Chloe) outfits I’d wear on them is about the only thing getting me through this old Monday night.
2. Charleston. Well, I just went there with my mom and sisters in October, but I ended up having such a great time that I really do want to go again, partly so I can go and see Chalmers Street, where the author Josephine Pinckney lived. I’m reading her biography right now, and even if she wasn’t one-half as interesting or talented as Flannery O’Connor was the book is worth reading if only for its chapters on the Charleston literary scene of the ’20s and ’30s. Also I’m afraid that I just may like Charleston more than Savannah, which makes me sad for some reason.
3. Nashville. I go there a few times a year since Lauren lives there and my parents live close by, but every time I visit I discover something new, and Tennessee is so pretty that my posts about it are always filled with extra exclamation points. The next time I go I think I want to do some more exploring with my mom; one of these days we are going to visit The Hermitage, and it’s going to be wonderful and nerdy, like an American Experience episode on PBS brought to life.
4. Milledgeville. This one will really happen! I can’t believe I haven’t gone yet–the town is only two hours away, but I’ve been saving our visit for warm, Andalusia-touring, peacock-chasing weather. The (imaginary) outfit I’d wear would be the tamest of all my fake outfits, since I don’t want to make the ghost of Flannery O’Connor roll her eyes at me. After yesterday I’m a little bit afraid of wearing pants, but I’d wear trousers and oxfords for Flannery O’Connor. (Well, I probably won’t, but I guess the sentiment is what counts).
