It's THE MONDAY. The one we've been expecting---the one which stretched far, far away into a nebulous future time after the decorating, after the cooking and the scent of sugar bubbling through the house, after the dinners and gatherings and presents and good times and moments of spiritual goodness and the coming back to the REAL of life.
And here it is. I was glad to see it, for Sweetpea is back after what seems like a month. She has tales to tell, of going to see Tangled and of visits all round to relatives and friends, of lunches out and parties and church, and we've been in non-stop chatter all morning. She and her Daddy and her Ganner gathered at the breakfast table for scrambled egg sandwiches and juice and coffee, and each sampled one of the cupcakes she and her Mommy made yesterday---neat little muffins with sprinkles-all-through and repeated all across the impossibly-green frosting. Delicious, and much praise to the cook.
And so, in this one moment that she's scampered upstairs to say "Good Morning," to Caro, I'm just chiming in to link a fun site you might enjoy. Those of you who like visiting here for the Southern stuff, the Mammaw stuff, the idioms and the strange words and the remembrances of the South---you'll LOVE this writer. She's a marvelous teller of tales, rememberer of things, and one of the best put-it-on-paper people I know, though I don't KNOW her, so to speak.
I've just admired from afar the wit and the turn of phrase and the silly and the absolute, and though she could be my daughter, I'd still like to be her when I grow up. Even her name (which may or may not be her own) bespeaks the convoluted Southern mannerism of bestowing the most endearing, strange names upon people, especially little girls. And I love her name---if it's hers, it's sublime, and if she chose it or made it up---she's spot on.
This one post is from last July, one I happened upon just doodling along the airwaves last night, and it's just so RIGHT and so REAL, of the childhood of a Southern child, especially one with TWO Mammaws, as we both had. The little naughty wit and the true-life observations make for a glorious read, and if you like my own piddly little observations on the Southern take on things, you won't be able to get enough of Bellwether Vance
Like me, you'll want to take all the posts in great, greedy gulps, and after you've read them all, you won't be able to wait for the next. Go see. Consider it a gift.