Carolina Time

Just as the accents seem to drip off the tongues of the locals in a thick, sweet drawl-so does the local residents sense of time seem to be slower than the rest of us Yankees.
"Yes, I was inquiring about the rental you have available. If you could please give me a call back as soon as you get this message I would really appreciate it." My voice chimed on the answering machine of a real estate company on a Wednsday afternoon.
"Hah Thayer!" said a voice chirpily from the other side of my cell phone on the following Monday.
"This iyiz Tami dahn hayer at the reel estate awfis, and Ahm jus callin yew bayack about that renil!"
"The wha-?" I asked.
"The RENIL! The hayas that we hayav fah rayent?" she said in an accent that must come from deep in the hills outside of town.
"Oh, thank you, but we have already found a house in the 5 days it's been since I've talked with you. But, thanks anyway!" I said as nicely as I could.
"Ahrighty theyan! Y'all have a good day nah ya heayar?" she drawled in an accent so thick it could have been its own language.
In other instances of house hunting we talked with more than one person who did not have interest in showing us the house, but instead told us to go out to the unlocked residence ourselves.
"Ah don' lock 'em darlin' so y'all feel free tah go aht thar an' take a look." said the old man's voice over the phone.
"Ahm fixin' to make mahself some sweet tea an' I dont reckon ah feel lahk goin' all the way out thar this time ah day" he continued.
Aside from the deep south locals with exaggerated accents the rest of the city seems to function at a pace that is common to smaller cities. But, more than that, there is something distinctly southern about the rhythm of things in these parts.
It makes me think of the James Taylor song: Carolina on My Mind. Only, in MY mind it would be: Carolina Sense of Time with a chorus something like:
In my mind y'all are late in Carolina.
Cant you just see the clock tick?
Cant you just feel the time pass?
Maby it's just my neurosis and I need to fall in line
But y'all seem late in Carolina in my mind.

I'm sure I'll get used to it. Ah jus need tah make mahself some sweet tea, sit back and listen to the crickets ah reckon.
Now, if y'all will excuse me, I have some adjustin' tah do.

The New Pad

It smells funny. By funny I mean musty and mildewy with a slight hint of dead mouse. Oh, and the refridgerator and stove didnt work for the first week and we were living out of a cooler and using a camping stove. Other than that, it's PERFECT!! Nothing a little Nag Champa and appliance replacements wont fix! As I write this Dustin is cooking on the brand new gas stove and I have lit what has to be the the 1,000th stick of insence.
Ah, the joys of rentals.

Arrival

So here we are in this strange and glorious southern land. We descended from the Great Smokey Mountains on a day where, I swear, you could almost see the ocean peeking out from behind the Blue Ridge Mountains in the east. The leaves are already tinted with color as if kissed ever so lightly by fire and sunlight. In a month or so it will look like the hillsides are blushing the brightest red, yellow and orange you have ever seen. There is something slow, easy and smooth about Asheville. A combination of the south and a small town. I can feel it enveloping me in a lazy comfort I feel I will get used to real quick. And dont even get me started on that southern drawl. You can hear it everywhere, drippin slowly from the mouths of locals.
Oh, I can feel already y'all, it's seductive colloquialisms are leaking into my vocabulary day by day.
Here I am-slowly sinking into Southern Comfort.
I think I'll stay awhile...