Not Quite There...

I was born in the south. I was raised in the north. I moved back to the south just in time to finish high school, and have lived here ever since. I like it here, and consider myself a southerner at this point, with no plans to leave.

But that doesn't mean that I'm fully to that "Southerner" point by all standards. And I had that illustrated by a simple fact that I never heard before, and it still seems more than a little odd to me.

Namely, it seems that there was--and possibly still is--a habit of putting peanuts in Coca-Cola. Let me say that again. Peanuts put in Coca-Cola.

Yeah, it doesn't matter how many times I say it or write it, it just sounds...wrong. I like peanuts. I don't dislike Coca-Cola (though there are many other better soft drinks out there, in my opinion). But the idea of the two of them together just seem horrible. And not in a small way, either.

My wife, who told me of this tradition, claims that it was so that the salt on the peanuts would keep the carbonation going longer, but wouldn't it be easier to just add salt? Peanuts don't just taste like salt; they have a distinct flavor of their own, and that flavor doesn't exactly scream Coke to me.

So, while this probably isn't a common tradition in the region anymore, it does make me realize that--even though the south is my home--I'm not really a southerner. In fact, I'm not a northerner, either. Or really, a midwesterner, being raised in Indiana. I'm just me, which is fine. I just happen to be happy living in the south, and I plan to be here for a long, long time. It's a great place, really.

Well, except for the pollen. But that was my rant from last year about this time. It still sucks, to be honest.

I am going to take this opportunity to rebut something that a friend of mine said.

Recently on his blog, Charles gave a glowing review of Spring in Georgia. He spoke of the beauty and the tranquil nature of the time of year.

I'm here to tell you that is a lie. If there is indeed a Hell, Georgia in Spring is a clear reflection of it.

Oh, the trees and the sky might be beautiful, but that beauty is only surface deep. Beneath it is a terror of immense proportion. For you see, Spring in Georgia means only one thing to me: pollen.

You might think that is an annoyance, and very little else, but it isn't. You see, Georgia has a special agreement with pollen. All the pollen that isn't allowed to show up in any other part of the world at this time is relocated to Georgia so that it can romp around and have fun with all the other pollen.

I mean, that has to be the case, right?

The Atlanta Allergy Clinic has a daily pollen meter, letting you know the pollen count and its relative danger to anyone who has reactions to said pollen. Most places have a high pollen count near 100, making it a high pollen, but not quite in the dangerous range. Anything over 125 is considered dangerous.

The pollen count today is 5,499.

You read correctly. Five-thousand four-hundred and ninety-nine. Aw heck, for simplicity sake let's go ahead and round it up to 5,500. That makes the pollen count 44 TIMES the dangerous level of pollen.

Let me put it another way. My truck and my wife's car are both an odd yellow color. They weren't when we bought our vehicles, but they are today, and probably will be for a while. They are covered in a layer of pollen. This normally happens when the numerous pine trees of the area start to pollenate. They haven't started yet. What we have right now is Oak, Sweet Gum, Sycamore, Birch, Mulberry, and Beech. Of those six trees, I am allergic to...all of them.

So, right now I'm sleeping a lot. Over 12 hours a day, and the times that I'm not sleeping, I'm tired and thinking about sleep. It is absolutely miserable right now. Spring in Georgia is the absolute worst time of year. I dread it's coming, and hate it when it is here.

Therefore, I refute the idea that Spring is pretty. The flowers and other colors that debut around this time are beautiful, but beauty is only surface deep, and the tiny terror that lies beneath the beauty attacks deep.