We're just givers is all

If you've met me for five seconds you know there are two things I love in life:

• Hosting parties
• Giving presents

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of other things I cherish - wine, family, soccer, my truck, friends and music, just to name a few.

But when I am hosting a party or crafting a present for someone then I am really in my element. It's a southern woman thing.

We believe in good food, good gifts and good times.

I get it honest.

For example, I was always taught to bring a hostess gift to any party I attend. That has been a baffling experience for my friends in Savannah. But then again, I suppose it isn't everyday that someone shows up to a party in a run-down apartment in the ghetto carrying a gift bag of wine and cheese.

But traditionally southern men would only marry women who possessed the trifecta of southern skills: cooking, cleaning and entertaining.

There is nothing I love more than cooking up a big southern meal, complete with appetizers and cocktails, served on my newest set of serving platters (courtesy of Target) to a group of my closest friends.

That's just the beginning. I have six pieces of this set alone.

I even turned a group project into a dinner party with Chicken Pie, green beans, rolls and a fresh jar of Pineapple Moonshine.

Needless to say, the project went well.

As far as gifts are concerned. Let me just put it to you this way.

• I spent 2 days after Thanksgiving making homemade Rock Candy for Christmas
• I have my Christmas cards addressed, stamped and ready to mail on December 1
• Within an hour of meeting someone I usually have at least 5 gift ideas.
• I keep a stockpile of Hallmark cards
• I refuse to keep a stash of all-purpose gifts because I want each gift to be special

If you're my friend then bless your heart, you better get ready for the influx of presents.

Allow me to translate...

Well actually I'm not going to be able to fully translate, but I will give it my best guess.

I have noticed that the words southern, country and redneck tend to be considered synonymous and while I am guilty of doing this as well, they are all very different words.

So for better or worse, here is how I interpret each of these words.

Southern
This word to me first and foremost denotes a person who lives in the South. Groundbreaking detective work, right? But the other assumption I usually make is that a southern person is from a confederate state, which is not always the case. There are many so-called southern states, like Kentucky, that fly the rebel flag like the war was yesterday but who never actually seceded and joined the confederacy.

Country
To me, a country person is one that lives off the beaten path, outside of the city and embraces the idea of being away from the hustle and bustle. Country people tend to have a very particular set of values and don't put as much emphasis on material wealth.

Redneck
This is the big word that people toss around like it doesn't have specific connotations. It does. Amidst all my kind-hearted jokes, I feel that the word redneck implies a person that is ignorant. Redneck is the word that makes me angrier than anything else. Call me country, call me southern, but do not call me redneck. I can joke and call myself that because some of my kin are redneck. But you can't call me that. Mainly because I'm not ignorant or a redneck, but also because it's a rude word in essence.

If you think about it, the word redneck is always used in jest. So consider that the next time you want to make a redneck joke.

So there you have it. My definitions of southern, country and redneck.

Bless your heart, if any of these definitions came as a surprise to you then I hope you never get into a linguistic battle with a redneck. You will surely lose.

Belle of the ball or Annie get your gun?

I've always thought that by mountain standards I would be considered a southern belle. I wear cardigans, pearls and high heels.

Sure, I have an affinity for firearms and I love to have my car covered in mud, but I thought the shear amount of pearls I own would negate all of that.

The mysterious concoction that makes the perfect southern belle has always eluded me, but it has seemed even more elusive since I moved to the home state of Scarlett O'Hara.

Last night I attended the first event in Savannah in which I was actually surrounded by native Savannahians. True southern beaus and belles.

The 2011 Belle and Beau of Savannah. Photo credit: Savannah Magazine intern, Megan Hall

It was glorious.

I felt like I was at a middle school dance and the captain of the football team had just asked me to dance. I felt insecure, underdressed (even though I wasn't) and totally unprepared (even though I wasn't).

It seems silly to say, but I realized that amidst all my country tendencies, I love the idea (and possible reality) of just being a simple southern belle.

Several months ago I began a secret love affair with work appropriate dresses and fun accessories. Now it seems as though the stars are aligning and finally giving me a non-worked related reason to dress up and be fabulous.

The dress I wore to the event.
Thank you Target clearance section for making me appropriately dressed.

Southern belle attire: halfway check (a wardrobe is never finished)
New authentic beau and belle friends: halfway check (we just met... let's take this slow)

I'm a parasol away from completing this mountain to Lowcountry transformation.

Actually let's not get too carried away here, but bless my heart I do love to put on a cocktail dress and pick out a hostess gift... maybe I could just get a matching gun and fully integrate my two worlds.

Tater Hill

One of the old mountain past times was hang gliding. Nowadays it tends to be more focused on paragliding, but I'm still quite partial to the hang gliding stories of old.

Hang glider.

Paraglider.

I haven't done it myself (yet) but my father used to be a hang gliding instructor at the one and only Tater Hill, NC.

My dad standing at the old launch point (It is a straight drop past the rock's edge).
In his own words, "It certainly had a pucker factor."

Tater Hill is the prime location to hang glide in the North Carolina mountains and is owned by Bubba Goodman (no, I'm not making that up).

However, reaching the launch point of Tater Hill requires some finesse. And by finesse I mean four-wheel drive and at least 20-30 minutes of going about two miles an hour straight up the side of a mountain. I digress.

Hang gliding seems romantic to me.

I can't imagine seeing this view from the air.

My dad tells the best stories about sitting on the side of the mountain with friends waiting for the wind to be blowing just the right direction, talking the day away as they overlooked the valley below. Romantic.

Dad and his friends also made friends with the people that owned the landing field below. Simpler times when you could just land a personal aircraft in someone's backyard and be invited in for tea instead of being shot.

I think I would enjoy every part of hang gliding except the jumping off a cliff portion. But that seems crucial to the experience. Again, I digress.

To really experience Tater Hill, you have to attend the Tater Hill Open which occurs annually in August and brings paragliders and hang gliders alike for a weekend of flying and fun.

At the Open, the sky is full of colored gliders as far as the eye can see.

This event shows a great collection of mountain folk, and the integration of an old past time within a new generation.

Skip to 1:30 to watch a great interview with Bubba Goodman about the origin of hang gliding at Tater Hill and all their shenanigans.

But what's a post without a redneck reference? I won't disappoint with this one.

At the base of Tater Hill there is a piece of a private property that has a very interesting guard.

Yes, that is a real tank.

Bless the heart of whoever trespasses onto this private property.

Koozies, Sweet Home Alabama and a muddin' truck

Southern or country weddings are a sight to behold when they are done redneck style.

This past weekend I photographed a wedding in South Carolina and while on a scale of 1 to redneck it was barely a 2, it did possess some key southern/country wedding elements.

Southern Element #1
The bride and groom provided each guest with a personalized beer koozie in the wedding color scheme (navy blue and pink) and the hair salon even provided koozies to the bridal party so the drinking could start early.

For those of you who are unaware, this is a koozie.

Side Note: Apparently southerners, particularly South Carolinians, do not like to be inconvenienced by cold hands while drinking beverages. I have watched girls in bars whip out 3-4 koozies and see which one matched their outfit better.

Southern Element #2
The happy couple left the reception in the groom's muddin' truck, which the bridesmaids carefully spray painted, glittered and streamered prior to the departure. The groom gave them permission to decorate any part of the truck except the tires.

Allow me to explain. For those of you who are unaware, a muddin' truck is something owned by most southern or country men. It is a piece of shit truck that tends to sit on really large tires, which are worth more than any other part of the truck by far. This truck is used to four-wheel in - you guessed it - Mud!

See? The tires are the most important part.

Southern Element #3
The bride processed into the ceremony to an acoustic rendition of Brad Paisley's "Then" and the reception included a variety of southern music selections including:

• "Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd
• "Rocky Top" by the Osborne Brothers
• "Love Your Love The Most" by Eric Church
• "She's Country" by Jason Aldean

As far as weddings are concerned, this was a classy affair. The food was delicious (ravioli and roasted chicken), the venue was gorgeous (they wed in a beautiful garden) and the attire was sleek (navy blue cocktail length dresses for the girls and light gray tuxes for the boys).

However, this wedding lacked many key elements to push it further up the redneck scale. At this wedding,

• Camouflage was not part of the theme 
• The groomsmen were sober (enough)
• No one cracked a beer during the ceremony
• The bridal party did not arrive in muddin' trucks
• The reception decorations did not include old car parts
• There were no (visible) guns

Overall, if you ever have a chance to attend a true redneck wedding, I highly recommend it. Even if you just go to a wedding that contains some country/southern elements, it's better than nothing!

But in all seriousness, bless the hearts of the bride and groom, I hope they have a long, happy life together.

Side Note: I would have included images of the wedding, but the bride hasn't seen them yet, so they will have to be added later out of respect.

Temper tantrums, soccer balls and the southern condition

When I studied southern history in undergrad, my professor used to continually rekindle the discussion about the anger southerners carry with them.

Historically, southern men tend to be outwardly aggressive and southern women tend to be outwardly passive-aggressive.

I must see this. I feel like I will understand my life better.

Either way it's not real healthy.

Through class discussions we found many possibilities for the source of the anger:

• We lost the Civil War (well some southerners don't realize that... shhhh)
• We are anti-progressionists living in a land of progression
• We see the distinction of our values being chipped away
• Men and women are pushed into very strict gender roles from a young age
• Intellectualism is still not fostered like it should be

None of these are answers, because there is no answer. Southerners just have a predetermination for aggressiveness, no matter the form.

For better or worse, it is part of the southern condition.

In my last post I posed the question "Am I passive-aggressive and don't realize it?"

I posed that question because I've been feeling rather passive-aggressive lately. Not to worry, I haven't so much given into those urges, but the fact that I feel them makes me uncomfortable.

Case in point.

As I was playing soccer today I saw a group of legitimate players across the field. Instantly I was angry.

Why wasn't I that good anymore? Why did I ever stop playing? Will I ever be good again?

And then like a sign from God, I pulled my quad muscle on the same leg I am recovering from a groin injury. Awesome.

Sweet Jesus I'm never going to get back in shape.

Curse words were flying (without raising my voice of course), I was kicking the ball with my injured leg out of pure spite - it wasn't cute. No one would have blessed my heart at that moment.

But within a couple minutes I was perfectly calm. I have seen this phenomenon happen amongst friends and family more times than I can count, and it's always a southerner.

God bless our hearts, why are we so angry? We have Nascar, Daisy Duke and rednecks with mullets... what is there to be mad about?

Have you seen Megan anywhere?

It's possible that I'm going through a phase. A phase where I'm trying to "find myself."

At 23 years old, it feels like an appropriate time to scrap the way I've done things in the past and start fresh, but my question is how do I find the new path? And is there actually anything wrong with my old one?

Since I began my search a few weeks ago all I have successfully found is a pulled groin muscle (courtesy of my new dedicated workout routine), some weird tan lines (also courtesy of exercise) and quite a lot of things in my life that I want to question.

That's precisely how I pulled my groin muscle. Overextension = Having a pimp walk.

There is nothing wrong with questions, except when you're not sure of the answers.

Here are a few things I've been pondering on my journey:

• Everyone says I'm nice, but am I really?
• Am I passive-aggressive but don't realize it?
• Do I push myself to actually succeed or do I just choose things I know I can do?
• Do I ever really let people in my head or my heart?
• By being so adamant about my southern roots, am I limiting my future?

I've started to wonder how my southernness plays into all this.

After 5 years of having my southernness scrutinized by friends (or "friends") I might as well be a one woman PR firm with the south as my sole client, but what impact does that have on my life and relationships?

I should probably be a member.

I love the south and I'm proud of my heritage, but occasionally a thought weighs in the back of my mind that maybe I only attribute credit for my good qualities to my southern roots because it's all I know to do.

Who am I if not a southern woman? At this point I almost can't define myself any other way.

Don't get me wrong. I love trailer parks, rednecks with jacked up trucks and mullets just as much as the next girl, but sometimes I want to know who I am outside of all that.

Bless my heart, I hope this personal journey doesn't involve any more pulled muscles - they hurt!

One foot out the door

From the moment I drove across Talmadge Bridge I've had one foot and half my heart out the door, already speeding up I-95 toward North Carolina.

Ah. Western North Carolina.

I've never really been away from home, thus the transition has been that much more difficult. My undergrad years were spent roughly an hour from my childhood home, so naturally I drove home on a really regular basis.

I can't exactly do that now that I'm a solid 4.5 hours away. And I'm tired of missing out on everything that happens at home.

In the North Carolina foothills, the Blue Ridge Mountains keep an ever-watchful eye on the land at their base - farmland, lakes and a lot of trailer parks. The beauty is unmistakable.

You had to know this picture would reappear eventually.

But what I really miss is being myself without question.

In Savannah I feel like I need a translator. I have to tone down my southernisms, my accent - essentially my whole personality - because very few people understand it.

And before you protest, yes I know it's hard to believe that this is the toned down version of myself.

Therefore, I am going to share a collection of my favorite phrases that tend to confuse people the most.

"I get it honest"
This little gem is used on an extremely regular basis at home. It's easier to explain in context, so here is a sample version of the proper usage.
"You are terrible with directions, just like your momma."
"At least I get it honest."
This phrase tends to be applicable in any situation regarding inherited traits from family.

"God's plenty"
An oldie but a goodie, I use this phrase daily, regardless of the ridicule I receive. Again, in context is easier, so here goes:
"Do you have enough food for 4 people?"
"Of course we do. We've got a God's plenty."
It just means there is a lot of something, because God always made sure there was enough.

"Quit being ugly"
This is a very simple phrase, but for the sake of consistency I will use it in context.
"She's such a mean person and she's kind of fat, bless her heart."
"Quit being ugly!"
This is used to essentially say "stop being mean."

See? It isn't so complicated.

Bless your heart, if you keep reading this blog you'll be throwing around southernisms and NASCAR lingo like you just came off the farm!

I don't raise my voice

For as long as I can remember I’ve never been one to raise my voice during an argument.

Not I.

Now don’t get me wrong, when I’m picking around with someone I have no qualms about raising my voice, but there is something about the sincerity of an argument that gives me pause.

Growing up, we ate etiquette for breakfast, which is precisely why I have a low tolerance for poor manners.

I get it honest.

As I’ve mentioned previously, the women in my family have exceptional moral strength and that especially impacts how they approach the people of the world.

Four generations of strong southern women.
(Great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, sister and me in 2006)

Therefore, they have influenced, and really dictated, how I interact with the people of the world.

From a young age it was ingrained in my brain that we (southern women) don’t raise our voices when we are mad.

It’s the same principle taught to young children – we use our words instead of throwing a conniption.

Of course, we all fall of the wagon sometimes, but I try my damndest to not ever raise my voice in a serious situation.

I love that as a southern woman I was raised to take the high road and always try to articulate my thoughts in a respectful manner.

I’ve found that this lesson has been applicable to every aspect of my life and I couldn’t be more thankful for it.

So if you ever see a look of anger flash across my face, just know that my inner monologue is going something like this:

“Breath Megan. Use your big girl words. Do not be brash. Do not say anything unnecessarily rude, even if they do deserve it. You’re riding the high road and it would hurt to fall. Breath.”

But bless your heart, if you see me lose my pearls then all bets are off and you best run for the hills.

Just kidding! ... my gun is much smaller than that :-)

So about this whole southern thing

As I've mentioned before, I spent the majority of my life oblivious to the fact that I was southern. I just thought I was normal.

Obviously I neglected how differently we do things (or say things) where I'm from - and tomorrow might just epitomize those differences.

Strange things happen in the south.

In the morning I have to give a presentation for one of my classes and the topic essentially revolves around rednecks, moonshine and the redneck dialect.

If it helps, this is the topic of my presentation.

People keep encouraging me to read some of the dialogue I wrote, but even though I chose the topic I am very weary of speaking in my natural dialect.

My insecurities with my accent stem back many moons ago to a time when I first realized I was different.

But as a side note I would like to mention that people like my brother-in-law think it's hilarious when people think I have an accent or am a redneck, because compared to him...

This was Thanksgiving 2008 at my brother-in-law's house.
Does this paint a picture for you about my comparable lack of redneckness?

Once I got into undergrad my accent became a daily topic of discussion. What I said, how I said it, my mannerisms while I said - every part of my life was picked apart constantly.

I became incredibly self-conscious about my southern attributes. For a while I even feigned a northern accent, can you imagine? And no, it did not go well.

But since I knew I could always anticipate that type of playful criticism (well not always playful) I began to play up my southernness.

I suppose I was essentially trying to beat everyone to the punch. So I would thicken my accent or discuss true, but unnecessary examples of my southernness.

But to this day when southern stereotypes are placed on me, even when I bring them on myself, I still feel a little tug on my heartstrings.

I'm proud of my accent, but I don't want to be perceived as ignorant, racist or dumb. As soon as I hear my accent thicken up all I can think is "lordy be, they're gonna think the dumb redneck has come to town."

See? So easy to go wrong.

I'm proud of my heritage, but I'm always nervous about the thin line between people being fascinated and people being condescending or just plain mean.

But bless your heart if you ever catch me when my accent is thick... you won't understand a blame word.

The big secret

"Who would've thought we'd have a black son before we met a democrat?"

- Sean Touhy, The Blind Side

No, I'm not a democrat. And, sorry family, I'm also not a republican.

The big secret is that I'm not a registered voter - therefore, I choose no party.

I don't disagree with the confusion and disdain I face when I mention this fact - which I rarely do.

I recognize that I should vote. It's my right as an American.

And I recognize that as a southerner I am stereotypically expected to be a staunch republican.

Sorry friends... not going to happen.

Don't get me wrong, I like the way republicans handle military issues. Yes, that's the southerner in me.

But I also like the way democrats handle social issues. Yes, that's the... well I don't know where the hell that comes from.

I've reached a place of intense conflict within myself about political issues. But no matter how much research I do, I never feel like I understand political issues enough to make an educated choice.

So I don't.

And with that said, I also don't complain about political issues. By choosing not to vote I am giving up my chance to voice my opinion so I will not do so after the fact.

But here's a thought.

I'm expected to be republican because I'm southern, right?

Well, if you'll recall, southerners were religiously democratic until the middle of the 20th century thanks to Abraham Lincoln and, ironically enough, democratic southerner Lyndon Johnson.

And North Carolina went Democratic in 2008 for the first time since 1976.

But everyone seems to neglect those facts when politically stereotyping southerners.

Bless the hearts of every politically confused southerner, we're a strange breed.

Dierks Bentley, you make my heart flutter

Don't be concerned fellow southern enthusiasts, I'm not veering into the realm of music blogs.

I just have an affinity for bluegrass... and the way Dierks Bentley's butt looks when he's strumming a guitar (yes, it's different than when he's not holding a guitar).

Yep. Those are nice jeans... and boots for that matter.

So, you may ask, besides his nice tush, what makes Bentley worthy of an entire blog post? Well I'm glad you asked.

For me, Dierks Bentley personifies the southern spirit, particularly with his latest and greatest album, Up On The Ridge, which was released in 2010.

That's a fine looking album cover.

It seems that Bentley has followed the winding path of most southerners and this album is his way back to his roots.

He tried country music and achieved monumental success, but something was missing. So he learned to integrate the past with the present and created his own version of bluegrass - Up On The Ridge.

This is a dilemma southern people face everyday. How do we remember and celebrate the past without letting it consume our lives?

Dierks Bentley has the answer. Apparently you make a bluegrass album.

But enough talking. Let's get to the music. Reward yourself with a listen to the title track, "Up On The Ridge," but prepare to be put in a banjo and fiddle daze.

Bless the heart of whoever gave Dierks Bentley his first guitar and first pair of tight blue jeans. Now the world is blessed with beautiful music played by a man who is also easy on the eyes.

It's okay... I'm wearing pearls!

Superman may have a cave and a badass bat mobile, Spiderman may be able to shoot spiderwebs out of his palm and kiss Kirsten Dunst upside down, but southern women have pearls... the ultimate weapon.

Total badass.

As soon as I fix my hair in the morning, I put on my pearl earrings and they stay on until I go to sleep.

I will not go anywhere without them. The gym, the grocery store, the lake - where I go, they go.

Now you may ask, what is the big deal with the pearls? Well, I'm glad you asked.

I'm not really sure why I'm so attached to my pearls, I didn't even acquire this obsession until I was a sophomore in college. Before that I went through a hoop phase... ugh!

Yep. Glad I'm out of that phase.

During my years in undergrad, my friends and I would joke that as long as we were wearing our pearls everything we did was classy... no matter what it was.

Anyone who has been around me for any length of time has surely heard this phrase come out of my mouth... and I believe it to be true.

Another catchy phrase constantly repeated by one of my friends is "pearls are pretty, pearls are tough, and pretty tough sounds good to me."

What can I say? We are steeped in southern tradition and pearls are part of that. 

Pearls are passed down between generations and act as a link between the past and present. 

How can you not appreciate that?

We already live in the past, might as well wear it too and look great, right? Plus they're pretty. And apparently tough.

Bless your heart, as long as you have your pearls on you're classy.

I like my grass blue

Bluegrass music is not scary - it's fun!

I moved to Savannah seven months ago and in that time I have discovered that bluegrass music makes a lot of SCAD students nervous.

I have to say that I'm a little baffled by that.

Bluegrass music is the heart and soul of the south. It's our roots personified.

Ok. On second thought, maybe I'm not all that baffled. But I do think people should give it a chance.

That's right!

Most people think of bluegrass as being old men picking banjos and fiddles, singing about losing their women or their dog.

While that is not entirely untrue, there is so much more to the genre, especially with the emergence of contemporary bluegrass.

Interestingly enough, a lot of country singers have begun to adopt bluegrass attributes, such as pop country music star Dierks Bentley, so it's entirely likely that you've listened to bluegrass (and liked it) without even knowing it.

For me the appeal is almost always in the lyrics, but then again I can never listen to a good banjo picker without getting a chill up my spine.

Here are some examples of my favorite bluegrass songs ranging from the least scary to the scariest.

Proceed with an open mind please.

This little ditty, "If I die Young" by The Band Perry, hit number one in September 2010. New to the music scene, the lead singer of this family band writes all the songs and they collectively utilize bluegrass techniques within the country genre.

"When You Come Back Down" by Nickel Creek is a go-to favorite when I just want to relax and enjoy an evening. The easy combination of mandolin and fiddle will surely please even the most weary bluegrass listener's ear!

"Shady Grove" by Doc Watson might be a tough sell to a newbie listener. Traditional to the core, Doc Watson is one of bluegrass's most legendary performers. Give it a chance and you might find yourself mesmerized by this banjo picker.

I hope this post will easy the fear's of anyone nervous about giving bluegrass a chance.

If you don't listen to bluegrass then bless your heart, you don't know what you're missing!