Return and Report

This all begins long, long ago. Not really that long ago; I just used that as a hook. Really, it began three years ago when right after graduate school I got an awesome job at a private school in Jackson, Mississippi. I rented a house in a cute art district, settled in, and got to know the neighbors' cats. Little did I know I'd moved into a neighborhood a person such as myself really shouldn't have been living in. I should have perhaps ascertained this earlier, when one of the neighbors saw me walking around and approached me, very concerned, asking if I had a large dog as a pet. "You don't? You should get one."

Yes, that should have been all the clue I needed. Anyway, to give you the short version, I met this wonderful woman when I bought a second hand table from her awesome (now defunct) store. She offered to take me out to dinner and, once she found out where I was living, move me out of my little house on the wrong side of the tracks. Or the wrong side of Fondren street, as it were. I felt a bit odd shoving all my belongings into a stranger's Tahoe in the middle of the night, but I left that little moment of turmoil with some wonderful friends. It was more than worth it.

Years later, neither of us live in Jackson. (Really, in the spirit of full disclosure, I never did, but that's a story for another time.) She and her husband live in lovely Charleston, South Carolina, and I live in Chicago. As winter began to settle in over my city, they graciously offered to share their holiday with me. Can we say beach vacation in November? Woot!

Let me tell you, Charleston has the best food. Like, for reals. Goodness gracious, kittens in skates. Take a look at this:

That's a pimiento cheese and fried green tomato sandwich. Dude.

And this?

This is a fried pickle. So. Good. These are both from Boulevard Diner. And just to toot my own horn: aren't those food photos awesome? I've been working on them. Maybe I can make my dinner look better for y'all in the future.

In keeping with this food report, I ate a rosemary apricot shortbread cookie from Bite and damn near died from the awesomeness. They have a book, which I would have bought right there on the spot had I not known there was no way it was going to fit in my already stuffed luggage. My luggage was most definitely as stuffed as I was. At least. Our Thanksgiving dinner was amazing, too, and can be seen here. I'm kicking myself for not better capturing it.

Like all good knitters (though I do cross-identify with other crafts, as y'all know), I made a pilgrimage to the favorite LYS. That's Local Yarn Store, for those of you not "in the know."

Oh my goodness, folks! Commentary and lengthy introduction aside, Knit is an amazing place.

Seriously, would you not want to just sit in that room and work on whatever, like, for forever? Look at all those buttons.

It goes without saying that I went to the beach. I met a lovely dead crab and fell so in love again with the Atlantic that I almost didn't want to return home.

Did I make you jealous? Sorry, I tried not to rub it in too much.