For those of you still with me, Abui and I meet every Friday.  It’s the only thing I look forward to in a week.  Having moved from Silicon Valley, to the deep rural South, hasn’t been easy.  It’s like the 1950’s but it has the technology of the present.  Some people have the mindsets of the 1800’s, 1970’s, and the present.  (Lance and I don’t match age or color-wise and the looks we get are the full spectrum we received in CA from others, regardless of other factors).

The only thing that reminds me that I am not lying are a few people with great hearts, and minds who constantly help the assimilation process by nicely saying, “This be da Souf darlin’. An right her’ is what’s called, The Trap. Good luck getting out.”  Others have been so sweet I am astonished that haven’t left.  They stay for a plethora of other reasons.

 

Every day I thank my mother for ingraining into me what others thought was dead.  Especially when twice in one week, I was stopped by one old “redneck” and later in the week a “country boy” who asked me if I needed a lift somewhere.  This is actually code for let’s have sex, because any (black) lady walking down the road with her dog has to be a prostitute.  (Welcome to the rural South).  Later, a friend told me of one lady that is a prostitute that walks over 5 miles daily.  She too is black.  I know. I know.  One case doesn’t mean every, but this is the rural South.

 

So it’s time for another meeting and the name of the “game” is what I need to do in order to do all that I want and oh joy, another list.

 

We officially decide that I am going to have to move.  Jobs are very scarce out here.  Job security is based on whether or not you are working with your family (extended family, and people who have known you your entire life).  Even with my degree and two minors, the best job I could find only wanted to pay me minimum wage and I took it: thank God for the people I have met and the benefits (tons of down time) and other benefits (401K etc.)!