Kiss My Grits Country

Melly opened one eye, and looked out the window. Snow.

“I HATE SNOW! I HATE COLD! I hate my (sniff) nose running twenty-four hours a day. Why couldn’t I have been born in the South?”

“Because our parents happen to live in Michigan,” said her younger sister, Nan. You wanta fuss, go fuss at them. I’m going back to sleep. You should, too.”

“No. I’m going to figure out a way to leave. Move somewhere little kids don’t even know what snow is.””

“What about all those new clothes you just bought? The sweaters, that jacket that I’m about to steal, and those boots! Huh? You won’t need those in the balmy South. You’d have to leave all your gorgeous winter clothes with me. And by the way, what are you going to use for money?”

“I’ll think of something. I’m serious. I’m moving to a place where they actually eat grits, because I am a Southern girl at heart.”

“Right, with a yankee accent.”

“What I think I’ll do is go test the waters, so to speak, for a week. I’ll rent a car and spend each day in a different southern state.”

“Melly, I may be your younger sister, but let me tell you all the holes I’m going to punch in that ridiculous statement. First off, it’ll probably take about 6 days to get there and back, so that leaves you one day to check out the South. And you’ll have motel rooms, gasoline, and food, plus the rent for the car. For one day of warmth. You’d be better off advertising for a husband who lives in the south.”

Melly’s eyes widened and she began to smile. “That is a champion idea! Come on, help me write an ad.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“What? I won’t marry him if he isn’t cute.”

Nan rolled her eyes. “You take the cake. You really do.” She sighed. “Now, of course, I’m wide awake, so let’s write an ad.”

Melly clapped her hands. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Nan got a pad and pen from her desk drawer, grabbed her lap desk, and sat, cross- legged on her bed. “Ready when you are.”

“Let’s see, I guess I ought to exclude states above Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina. Well, maybe Tennessee, but you get up any farther and they begun to lose their drawl. And drawl is what I want.”

Nan burst out laughing. “Well, you’re about as far from “drawl” as fried chicken is from the North Pole.”

“I don’t mean me! I mean “him.”

“Well, if it were me, I’d zero in on Texas, all those well-mannered cowboys with their ‘Howdy, ma-am, and such.”

“Most Texans aren’t cowboys, Nan. How about Louisiana. It’s got New Orleans with Mardi Gras, and all.”

“I have heard,” Nan said, “That upper class Southern women don’t take to transplanted Yankees too well. In fact, I’ve heard they can sometimes be downright rude. And another thing I heard is there’s nothing more ridiculous that a Yankee trying to put on a Southern accent.”

“Well, if you aren’t a font of knowledge all of a sudden! Not to mention the champion downer of all time!”

“I’m just saying. For your own good. You could get down there and be all ready to make friends with your “husband’s friends’ wives, and find yourself in a pickle.”

“Hmmmm.”

“And anyway, why would a good ole Southern boy want to marry a Yankee? They still fly the Confederate flag, for Pete’s sake. The only reason I can see would be if you were a millionairess. Which you aren’t. By a long shot.”

“Surely they don’t all fly the Confederate flag?”

“No, but I’d pick a small down if I were you. Atlanta, you might as well be here. There are people from everywhere in Atlanta.”

“I am no small town country hick, Nan! I’m a big city girl. I just want to meet an up and coming big city guy whose not stuck on marrying a Southerner.”

“Do your plans include learning how to cook, Melanie Anne? Because if they don’t, you think a lovely Southern mama is going to let her little boy marry a Yankee (bad enough) and one who can’t cook, to boot?”

“Well, You are the wettest blanket I have ever known in my life! I ask you for help, and what do I get? Miss Doom and Gloom!”

Nan moved the lap desk, got up, and left the room.

“Fine. I don’t need her. I can do this by myself. I’m going to write my ad. Let’s see. She picked up Nan’s pad and pen.

“Attractive single girl from Michigan, tired of the cold and snow, desires to move to New Orleans and meet an attractive single male under thirty. Depending on your response, willing to swap CURRENT photo.” Her eyes kept closing and she got back under the covers.

Nan peeked in, saw the notepad and read her sister’s ad, and wrote, beneath it: “Take back the Doom and Gloom bit and I’ll tell you my brilliant idea.”

Melly finally woke up at noon and went downstairs. Nan was working her crosswords. She looked up. “What’s a six letter word for misguided?”

Melly laughed. “Stupid. And I’m ready for your big idea.”

 Nan shook her head.

“What? Why not?”

Nan went back to her crossword.

Melly stared at her. “Oh! I’m sorry. You’re not doom and gloom. Now, what’s your idea?”

“The perfect place to go, and place your ad. Florida! Lots of Northerners there and Southern Florida never gets cold. A win-win.”

Melly looked like she was thinking. Suddenly she said, “What about this? Let’s you and me go for Spring break, no friends, just us, and let’s see who we meet. What do you think?”

Nan had a big smile, but then she had a thought. “I don’t know, Mel. You could get a date and leave me by myself and I’m not that brave.

“Okay, we double date or just go as a group. How about that?”

“We-ell …”

Melly continued. And maybe before we go I can apply for a job, there and interview while we’re there.

“What about ‘Mr. I’ve just met you but please marry me?”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“I just want to be somewhere warm. The rest will come. Or it won’t.

Nan laughed. “Well, kiss my grits!”

Melly gave her a hug. “Don’t mind if I do.”