Peeeectures!!

Some visions of Asheville and my thriving social life. From top to bottom:

Jessie, Rachael and Dustin doin' breakfast at "The Chesnut Street Inn" (owned by adorable Jessie and her husband the adorable Eddie who are kind enough to employ us)



Rachael smokin' it up at "Hookah Joes" downtown(yes, it's tobacco silly).



Jessie, me and Rachael warming up with red wine at the Charlotte St. Pub.



Downtown Asheville dressed up with wreaths for the holidays (See "Rebel Yell" below for some details on the holiday revelry)

The "Early Girl Eatery" (my other adorable place of employement.)


Me posing and Dustin intently browsing the beer menu downtown.
Dee and I. Some "Early Girls" enjoying an early happy hour downtown.
Sorry the text is all screwed up.

Pretty

Some more lovely fall images. From top to bottom: From the front steps of the Chestnut Street Inn. A beautiferous tree on a side street near our house (taken from insideof our truck). And outside of my work (The Early Girl Eatery downtown on Wall Street.)

With A Rebel Yell...

Yesterday was the Asheville Holiday Parade. It was a highly anticipated event and the streets were blocked off promptly at noon. The crowds descended upon town square and took their spots in the icy wind. The wreaths that adorned the street lamps were shedding their greenery upon the roads, as the unforgiving gusts mocked their tightly coiffed red bows. The sky, however, was immaculate and that is all you can ask for on a parade day.

The people populated downtown Patton Avenue, wearing such things as reindeer horns, Santa hats and sweatshirts that said such vulgarities as: "I'm with Santa." As it seems to be with most "big city" parades, the residents of surrounding areas came out in droves. In Portland it is Gresham, Beaverton and the like that come out for the Rose Festival and Cinco De Mayo. Asheville is substantially smaller however, as are the areas that surround it. It is the residents of Weaverville, Candler, Leicester, Woodfin and other rural communities that come out to participate in the holiday revelry. These are a certain type of people and not the type that would ever think to dwell in Asheville. No, they find it too liberal, too modern, too populated with organic food stores. They prefer to come out for such special occasions as the annual Holiday Parade and bring their brood of unwashed, reindeer horn wearing children with them. To better describe the visitors populating town square I will give you this mental image: Mullets. They were out in force.

Mullets, mullets everywhere. On the old, the middle aged and those too young to know any better. They came into my work before the parade began, as we are one of the restaurants located right in the heart of downtown.
"Thems aint grits!" were some of the precious words that came out of their toothless mouths as I set their plate of organic, stone ground grits in front of them
"Ah like mah grits sweet and greasy! Y'all gots any syrup?"
"What in the Hayell is OR-ganic?! Duz it comes with bacon?!"
Once they left the restaurant, unsatisfied with their far too healthy hormone free bacon and grits, we had a lull in business and I was able to observe the festive activities going on out the window below me.
The mullets mixed in the crowd with the hippies, the gays, the rich people and the yuppies. It is Asheville after all and we enjoy our little bubble of liberalism nestled here in the south. There was a Kwanza float, a Hanukkah flag, a rainbow flag and a bevvy of other culturally sensitive displays.
The most disturbing and amusing appearance however came later in the event.

After a school marching band and a float representing the West Asheville Baptist Church passed by, there appeared a rather shabby looking cart carrying a Christmas tree in it. The tree was not adorned with many ornaments, as the most important one was flying on top of it. Yes, there it was, gigantic and rippling majestically in the wind: The Rebel Flag. I looked around and tried to gage the reaction of the crowd. The hippies were horrified, the yuppies disapproving and the out-of-towners couldn't have seemed more pleased. One man donning what I like to call a "Kentucky Fried Mullet"(buzz cut on top, and loooooong in the back!) held up his Budweiser in a toast and he and his family whooped and hollered with joy. It seemed to be the one moment of the parade they were waiting for and they busted out their mini-flags in solidarity. One man in tattered clothes, a trucker hat and a half a six pack dangling from his hand, held up his free hand with the pointer finger, pinky and thumb held up and yelled out a heartfelt and southern accented "HAYELL YEAH!!"

There were many other rebel yells and toothless grins of approval mixed in with the disapproving looks of silent disdain. There were even some not so toothless grins silently smiling with a glimmer of pride in their eyes, as the Confederate Flag waved picturesquely in the cold November breeze. We may live in Asheville, a Kwanza loving, rainbow flag waving, organic food consuming liberal bubble of Democratic bliss. But that flag, waving atop those tattered and fake piney bows, was a not so subtle reminder: We still live in the south, and dont y'all fergit it!

Happy Holidays From North Cackalacky