Miscellaneous Observations Ed.

- Tithing for church is HUGE down here. While the salary range is lower than the national average and cost of living is appropriately less expensive, the weekly collection that churches post on the weekends has got to be at least double than what people give to their church up North. I guess I should have expected this, but last week at a very small Catholic Church in Clinton (with attendance at an average of 40-50 people per Mass with three Mass offerings that weekend), they reported a collection of $9000! Clinton is not the most thriving city in Mississippi, and so I nearly fell out of the pew when I saw this. I wonder what the Baptist churches are pulling in, because this state is only 2% Catholic.

- Politeness - It's unreal, really! Mississippians really want you to love Mississippi, and they'll feed you all their stash of catfish to prove it.

- Muscadines - they're everywhere and delicious in the late summer! There's muscadine jelly, wine, and there's got to be a muscadine face mask or a link to cancer prevention. Also, cheap. They're about $.80/lb, and that's a lot of muscadines.

- Armadillos- I see about 5 armadillos a week, still. I wonder if they're good enough to eat.

speaking of eating dead things...

- It's officially hunting season/ fishing season (my kids are out at hunting camp at intervals, I'm confused as to whether it's an excused absence or not) - Catfish "noodling" is apparently a big thing, mostly in the summer, people who are real "noodlers" call the technique the "hand grab" (obviously). I suggest you YouTube this, it's certifiable.

Armadillo Attack

Armadillos aren't just a Texas thing. In Mississippi, armadillos are everywhere. They are not cute, and I think I would rather come across a grizzly bear than an armadillo if I had the choice. Armadillo is Spanish for "little armored one," and there couldn't be a more fitting name for them.

Most of my 25-minute drive to work is spent on the picturesque Natchez Trace Parkway, a 444-mile single-lane highway (that, interestingly enough, Meriwether Clark of the Lewis and Clark expedition mysteriously died on...more on this later) that links Natchez to somewhere in Tennessee. Locals warned me to lookout for deer throughout the year and watch for cops, because a speeding ticket on the Trace will set you back about 350 bones.

One sun-shining morning on the trace I see something in my lane about 100 feet ahead. It's about the size of an armadillo, and unfortunately, this doesn't register, and I barely think about swerving to avoid it (I do have a terrible history of running over large objects). The next thing I know, I've run it over, but it gets stuck under my car, and I am dragging an armadillo under my car. My emotions are a mix of frustration, disgust, and horror. I drag it all the way to school.

I am steaming about this all day, and I tell my co-workers about it. Did you know that when armadillos get scared, like one may get when confronted with an approaching sedan in its path? It jumps straight up into the air. This must have been a handy defense back in the day when there were no cars, but I think it's high-time this creature found a new defense, because they jump just high enough to jump into the grill of a car (mine must have been slow, because I don't think it jumped).

Anyways, I make my carpool buddy hitch up the car with the tire changing thing after school to get the armadillo out, because there is no way I am going to drive another 30 minutes with an armadillo under my car, and apparently AAA's services do not include armadillo removal. Unfortunately, at this point in the mid-afternoon of late August, the armadillo stinks to high heavens, and there are about a thousand ants crawling. Eventually it gets dislodged.

But you know what that armadillo did to my car? It destroyed the bottom of my car with its hard shell! I take it into the shop, and the words "Well, I was driving on the Trace..." barely leave my lips, and the mechanic says, "You got an armadillo problem?" Aghast at the thought that this occurs so often mechanics expect a helpless girl with an armadillo problem everyday, I nod. $200 later, I have a new nemesis in armadillos, and I am not sorry that armadillo died.

A Town Full of Christian Hunters, Apparently

Having been in Mississippi for a couple weeks, there have been quite a few "southern moments" that as a Yank, I've tried to not be too shocked by. Yesterday I took my car in for an oil change. Let me just say, though, many things you'd expect to be open on the weekends aren't. Like a car wash. Isn't that what you get done on the weekends? Especially the town where I live, which could be best defined as conservative Baptist, the Sabbath is strictly observed, and it's offensive if businesses are open on Sundays. It's a little inconvenient, but not being able to do errands on Sunday does force you to spend time with those you care most about. I digress.

So, I took my car in for an oil change on Saturday, a standard affair. I'm sitting in the waiting area, sipping on bitter coffee, and I start flipping through the reading material on the coffee table: Hunting Illustrated Magazine, Hunting Bow Magazine, Bible stories for kids, etc..., and not one Time or Newsweek. What's the deal? I figure, well, if it's your business, it's up to you which magazines you want to subscribe to for it. But I'm still pretty curious, because I've been in a mechanic's waiting area plenty of times, and I've never seen this type of selection before. I ask the manager at the desk if he's a big hunter and politely comment on how interesting the magazines seem. He smiled at me, and said something that I've been hearing a lot of lately, "Ma'am, you're not from around here, are you?" I bat my eyes, and bashfully nod. He says, "Everyone in this town is a hunting Christian." I reply, "Everyone?" He says, "Everyone."

Gee whiz, I thought that was pretty interesting, and I get the feeling he was going for the shock factor, so I'm going to keep looking into his overarching statement.

Assigment

For the next two academic years, I will be teaching at a high school (and consequently moving to) just outside Jackson, Mississippi.

When I first learned of my assignment to teach in the deep south, my first thought was, "oh, I mean, um...what?" followed by a, "hm, where's Mississippi again...east of the Mississippi River? West?" My thoughts oscillated between these two for about an hour until I decided to Google "Bugs in Mississippi", and it didn't take me very long to see that I shouldn't have done that. I mean, how many Yankees would ever think roaches, black widow spiders, and armadillos would be included in their day-to-day living? I'll bet none. Two things are for sure for sure: one, this will be a great adventure, and two, I'll be spending money on pest control.