The best time of the year. I don't get tan and don't really enjoying swimming, but set that aside. It is my happy time, involving some of my best memories and favorite adventures, not to mention my birthday. Maybe we all prefer the time of year in which we were born. I know that I do.
This summer has been full of "starts." New jobs, new apartment, everything short of new hair. That's on the bucket list before Labor Day.
I was thinking last night how much I love summer food. Of all the things I adore are summer fruits and veggies, and hamburgers. Happily, all of these can be found in abundance; spare me the root vegetables and roast beef, a home-grilled hamburger with sides of corn, tomatoes and watermelon and orange sherbert make my heart happy.
I have a good friend I make a big dinner with every few months. In the winter, it might be spaghetti with his mom's meat sauce. In summer, it's freshly ground-that-day beef seasoned and grilled to perfection, better than most any you can find at a restaurant, especially at a generous half-pound per person. Corn, grilled asparagus, Vidalia onions and mushrooms, all from the farmer's market, as sides. All so good that the Ruffles and Dean's French onion dip are forgotten, and it takes a good hour or two after dinner before you're ready for dessert.
Heaven.
Summer, to me, is decks with view of the ocean, Dad putting PBR cans in the beach cooler, lots of sunscreen, and sticky hair days.
And food, the good stuff.
 |
| Perfection on a plate. |
Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal
I was given a challenge recently. I love words and writing them and all of that, but it's a bit disconcerting when you're asked to describe yourself in just a few paragraphs. How not to sound too aggrandizing (I have no flaws!), too modest (Aw, shucks, I'm just an average girl!), or, especially for me, too wordy (I need just one more adjective here!)? "Give me a brief description of yourself" is the flip side of writing your autobiography.
I thought about it, and focused decisively on what I was actually asked to do: write about me. Not my resume highlights, not my foibles, not my victories or also-rans. Me. As I wrote, revised, and mulled over this assignment, I realized: this missive was about self-awareness. A form of self-love, actually, meant to explain me, Carrie Neal, the person. Kind of daunting, but kind of fun, too - free of focusing, or hiding on, facts and figures. Of course, specifics have to enter it; what I like, who is important to me, how I participate in the world. I tried to do that in a manner that stuck to the basic idea of who Carrie Neal is, not the what.
I'm pretty pleased with the end result, and I tried to be honest (of course, like the Leo I am, it's possible there's a dash of proudness). I have to submit it now, but I look forward to reviewing it later to see what I still think about it. Ultimately, I'd like to think self-love means the ability to view yourself for what you are in totality, as best as possible. That way, you can be as honest with yourself as anyone can be through the most intimate telescope and go from there. Read on, and see what you think.
*****
"Hi, I'm Carrie Neal - two first names." I think in words, in both italics and capitals. It's probably a main reason I let people know directly that I prefer a double name. My first lesson in diplomacy was how to smoothly convey this, with eye contact, a firm handshake, and a smile; self-possession has never been a problem.
Bright, diligent, and charming would be three words to describe me. Challenging, pedantic, and direct could be three others. I like planning, strategy and checking things off lists; I like that I can supplement this with creativity and a penchant for considering what's beyond the ABC's. Snail mail still helps my communicative side. I was the dark horse for the sibling humor award but it turned out that my easy ability to talk to anyone includes a pretty good wit. I love to learn and travel; I've been fortunate to live a number of places abroad and my to-do-before-I-die list includes plans to do so again. My brother would tell you I can be too sensitive; my friends would tell you I am generous, and a fountain of information on everything from the best steak places to the proper spelling of English Major Words; my parents would tell you I'm worth it.
I've had at least nines lives across things personal and professional, and I imagine there will be nine more. As my Godmother would agree, "that pretty well sums up what you like to call 'Carrie Neal Land,' sweetheart." I think it's a pretty unique place and feel fortunate to try to figure out just what it entails.
*****
There you go. The book jacket version 2015 is written. On to the unabridged version.
Yours,
Love Bites
Carrie Neal
If you know me, it's to eat with me. If you know me, you know I'd really take fries over cookies any day.
But . . . coming home means eating cookies, fries, and lots more.
That whole food-is-love thing is true in my life. Being home is wonderful for just that reason: family and friends, food and love.
Simple.
I've missed Atlanta for many reasons, including the time, opportunity and choice of places to eat with those I love. Highbrow - please go to St. Cecilia, if you haven't been - to new-to-me pizza spots - again, please go to Avellino's if you haven't been - to old school, down and dirty Mex - you've been to Taxco, right? - to anything else that sounds tasty that day or night.
But I've really missed Atlanta for the communion over all this food. I'm like a kid in a candy shop catching up with people over it. From take out for Dad and me while Mom's at the beach, to coffee (fine, kinda like dessert since my Starbucks had that new tiramisu flavor added in), from old easy faves like big slices at Fellini's and salmon apps (or, ahem, fries) at Houston's, I am in home foodie heaven. (Have you gotten tacos at a Buford Hwy spot lately? Brunched at a fave place? Eaten a great filet in style? Hmmm. Food for thought.)
This post is silly and lacking in import - except for the message that food nourishes us for a lot of reasons. I'm just lucky that one reason is that I get to spend time with people I love. When it's (often) over food, it's even better.
Bottom line: eat your vegetables. And so much more. As the saying goes, "The world is a smorgasbord."
Go find an oyster.
Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal
Blast back.
Day one, yesterday, was Nostalgia Day. Last visits to the most places I could cram in - and delay the events of . . .
Day two, where the apartment looks like Wyle E. Coyote just made a run-through.
Because on day three, I'mma going home.
Thank the dear, sweet Lord.
Chattavegas has been an adventure. Exactly 385 days from my arrival, I'll be an Atlanta Girl again - physically official; emotionally never absent.
Since I had even a day of nostalgia reveals something: this detour in my life wasn't all bad. Highlights include working at a couple of cool places* - finding my cute little apartment - and reconnecting with my preschool best friend - apparently, we were inseparable then, and happily we like each other now.
And, some of the restaurants I visited**, hair salon I discovered***, pedi/massage/spa place I found**** and a few other assorted plusses, made life here usually tolerable, often fun. Some of the memories will be kept fondly.
But it has never been home. Small town; city girl.
Yet amazing how much stuff one can collect over just this very short amount of time. And now, I'm paring down further since I've been given the chance to come home, have a place to live, a job, and a need to leave a bunch of crap here till I get out of my apartment.
All of this brings me to the following conclusions: sometimes a change of scenery is necessary (2013 required a re-lo to shake it off); if you look, you can find people you like and a place to make kinda home (even if for the short run); life can surprise you when you least expect it; the people you love, and who love you, don't stop just because you're an hour+ versus 10 min away; there really is just one home.
I've got some juggling - and repacking, eep! - to do immediately, and to get to be back home permanently.
A sojourn to the River City was ultimately ok. A return to Atlanta is brilliant. A life - let's not repeat things like a broken face - is what you make it, regardless of where you are.
All this is to say: "Ciao, Chattavegas!" and "Atlanta, I'm comin' home."
See you soon. xoxoxo
Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal
*Clyde's on Main - you should pay a visit if in town.
**Sandwiches: River Street Deli (new school), Nikki's Drive Inn (old school); Mexican: La Eltena; Pizza (and spaghetti and meatballs!): Community Pie; Nice date: 1885; Fancy: St. John's; Divey: Mike's; Greek (Get. The. Gyro): Ankar's on Broad; Sunday Brunch: The Flying Squirrel; Best Happy Hour (food and drink): Mellow Mushroom; other categories don't jump out as must-try. Except if pimento cheese can be a category, The Honest Pint. Get the fritters.
*** Go see Julie at Style Bar.
**** Natural Body Downtown - get Felicia for a pedicure.
Oh, and stay at the best hostel ever, The Crash Pad, or at the mostly lovely hotel in town, The Read House. You can even bring your dog.
