The First One

I follow a lot of blogs...primarily cooking blogs. I love to cook, bake, and eat. About two years ago, though, I started reading Hyperbole and a Half, and I distinctly remember thinking, "Holy shit, either Allie Brosh and I are like nega-twins," -- aside: I use "nega-twins" liberally to mean we look nothing alike, but we have the same sense of humor, the same goddamn dogs, and "The Year Kenny Loggins Ruined Christmas" is a foretelling of exactly what my boyfriend's (Charles) and my inevitable child will be like -- "or my parents had another child, and were so terrified of our joined forces (think Keymaster and Gatekeeper, but without the weird sex, which in this case would be even weirder as it would involve GoT-like incest) that they separated us at birth."

Then I discovered The Bloggess, aka Jenny Lawson - specifically through her entry "It Doesn't Take Much to Make Me Happy." I was at work, and, thankfully, alone, as I almost peed myself cackling into my desk. Not that it would have mattered if people had been in the office with me. I still would have been cry-laughing into my palm, but someone probably would've taken my fit of hysteria as the other definition, as in a nervous breakdown. I bought her book that day, and read probably the first third in two hours (finished it all within a day). It would've taken less time, but I would read a chapter, die laughing, and then go back and re-read it aloud to Charles (who sat through it all with a pained expression, as he was trying to read a different book at the same time - he often says Victor [Lawson's husband] and he need to start a support group. I'm assuming a support group for men whose significant others are just too awesome for words.)

Where am I going with all of this? (To be honest, it took me a minute to remember my point. Reader beware: this shit'll happen.) Between Brosh and Lawson (and many others), it occurred to me that maybe I should join the legions and start blogging. I have a BA in Starving-Artistry, otherwise known as an English degree, and I haven't "had the time" to write in ages. It's fair to say the first couple years after college I was too burned out to write. But that was seven years ago. I could make excuses, but it all really just comes down to my fear that I'm not all that good at writing to begin with...and my laziness. So it's time for me to get off my ass - well, really to get on my ass and start writing, rather than using it to further cushion the couch while I meld with the TV. 

I guess that counts as an intro, but I'm still left with my blog's title. It's not exactly something one reads and says, "Ah, yes, the magnolias," while stroking one's chin pensively. It has nothing to do with Steel Mags, and I'm certainly not "anti-South." I'm from the South, I live in the South, I AM the South. I have bourbon on my breath and butter in my veins. No, my blog title is actually a quote I've borrowed from one of my favorite books - Handling Sin by Michael Malone. If you haven't read it, make it a priority now. If you don't like to read, please refer to this.

Except ignore #6 - I don't accept. I keep trying to force it on you. Although, if you don't like to read, odds are you aren't reading this blog either. Whatever - I DON'T NEED YOU.

Quick synopsis on Handling Sin via Goodreads:

"On the Ides of March, our hero, Raleigh Whittier Hayes (forgetful husband, baffled father, prosperous insurance agent and leading citizen of Thermopylae, North Carolina), learns that his father has discharged himself from the hospital, taken all his money out of the bank and, with a young black female mental patient, vanished in a yellow Cadillac convertible. Left behind is a mysterious list of seven outrageous tasks that Raleigh must perform in order to rescue his father and his inheritance. 
And so Raleigh and fat Mingo Sheffield (his irrepressibly loyal friend) set off on an uproarious contemporary treasure hunt through a landscape of unforgettable characters, falling into adventures worthy of Tom Jones and Huck Finn. A moving parable of human love and redemption, Handling Sin is Michael Malone's comic masterpiece."

That's the jist, but what it doesn't say is "This book is fucking incredible. It will make you feel emotions." Primarily emotions that make you laugh, but when a book is called "a moving parable of human love and redemption" obviously there's going to be some material that will make your eyeballs leak. Don't believe me? Here's what The New York Times Book Review had to say about it:

"While comparison will be made to A Confederacy of Dunces, the humor of Handling Sin is superior...Mr. Malone's twists and turns and surprises are downright phenomenal, verging on genius...weighed on the scale of laughter, Handling Sin is a hilarious success. It is worth reading just to collect the full kernels of fine humor which are much thicker in this book than pecans on a Georgia fruitcake."

(Aside: Dear NYT Book Review, I see what you did there. Comparing a book about the South to...a dessert I've never heard of anyone enjoying EVER. I mean, it's a cliche, but pecan pie would have made a hell of a lot more sense. Or "thicker than layers in a seven-layer cake" - I mean, you're restricting the "kernels" to an actual number in that metaphor, but at least it's a dessert that's actually GOOD. Did you go "fruitcake" because it also equates to "crazy"? Then you, sir, avoided one cliche only to fall into another, and you should be ashamed of yourself.
It's ok, guys, the South has always been seriously misunderstood, and this was written in the 80s, when I imagine the world still thought we ate fruit suspended in any medium like some 50s housewife.)

But I digress.

Charles and I both love this book so much, we're currently "casting" actors to be in the mini-series that we seem to think we will one day be enlisted to co-write and co-direct. My first pick was Patton Oswalt as Mingo Sheffield, but Charles pointed out that Nick Frost would also be amazing in that role, and now I can't make up my mind - they're both so damn great. They might just have to share the role in an Olsen twins kind of way.

Back to the quote: Raleigh Hayes (actor yet to be determined), his half-brother Gates who also happens to be a conman (we're thinking Mark Ruffalo), Mingo (Oswalt/Frost - not to be confused with Frost/Nixon), and escaped Jewish convict Weeper Berg (there's no way anyone but John Hurt could play him) are on the run from some goons who are after Gates, and, in attempting to shake said thugs, find themselves careening onto a Southern estate that Mingo declares to look "just like Gone With the Wind."

"Awghh," said Weeper Berg, "there's peacocks on that porch! God, I hate these lousy Southern autocrats. Spare me the magnolias, please."

In order to stay hidden on the estate - that is currently in a flurry of activity preparing for a debutante ball being held that night - Gates convinces the lady of the house that they are European filmmakers who are scouting locations for an upcoming movie entitled "Spare Me the Magnolias Please."

And there you have it! I can't really explain it, but something about that quote/fake film title just speaks to me on a cellular level. Maybe it's because everything about that chapter -- the description of the estate, the wife who is already thinking on how jealous her neighbors will be and how she'll be the talk of the town, the deb-daughter who would rather take care of the hounds than be in a ballgown -- feels like an allegory for my life. Not that I grew up on an estate, mind you, but instead an island, which, I imagine like an estate, is this fishbowl-like microcosm where everything is constantly under a microscope and everyone is worried about appearing perfect lest the rumor mill start churning out gossip that might actually have a ring of truth. It's all about appearances, appearances, appearances. And "spare me the magnolias, please" is only the most perfect way to sum it all up - give it to me without the perfume, give me what's real.

So what can you expect from this blog? I'm not Jenny Lawson or Allie Brosh, but you will find me rambling in a stream-of-conscious kind of way, which can sometimes lead to humor. And sometimes TMI.

Be prepared for food - I opened this with telling you I love making it and eating it. But I really love sharing it, usually physically -- as in, I'm-a-Southern-woman-let-me-feed-you-and-drown-your-sorrows-in-gravy -- but I'll probably like passing it on virtually as well. So you, too, can cook and eat your feelings.

And, of course, books. I'm certain Handling Sin is just the first in a long list that I will force upon you.
You've been warned.

Also, I like magnolia flowers. Ever the contradiction.

Til "tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow"

Chrisi