Around the Central Savannah River Area, drivers—no lie—let you cut ahead of them in traffic and everyone looks cuddly like Paula Deen. They wear fuchsia year-round, have a sweet tea drip, and ask if you’ve found a home church yet. It's so charming. I always like to say that I home-church myself, which is very charming and honestly true.
Augusta is where I picked up prefacing everything I say with honestly, 'cause there’s a good amount of denial in that town. Honestly? Grits suck. Honestly, guess what? There are 49 other states in the U.S.
The barbecue is fantastic. The Mexican, abysmal. It’s hard to go wrong with beans and rice, but, apparently it can be done.
I learned to love okra, which is handy.
A word of advice: if you ever move to the South, prepare to embrace embroidered acronyms on quilted whimsy. Southern women are edgier than they appear, and can spot an outsider by her lack of Vera Bradley.
Honestly? I lied the entire six years about liking the color lime green.
(Baz, thanks for your handsome face.)