If you move in the summer like we did, there is the heat. It might surprise you how quickly 89 degrees begins to feel temperate. The hardest part of this season to get used to is that it looks so nice outside. It's not like winter was back home when I'd look out to three-foot deep snow drifts and return promptly to the comfort of my couch. I look out here to a sunny sky and green trees and I always test it...I go outside to rake, or to water the plants, or sit on the patio...until five minutes later I am airing out pit stains and swatting away swarms of misquitoes. It's an evil mirage, and it tricks me every time.
There is the swearing--or I should say, the lack of "cursing" (that's what they call it here). I'm all for PG language, but every once in a while you have to let out a shit. (Pun intended.) On the "rule board" at one of the parks we walk the dog, profane language is just as restricted as firearms.
Along those same lines, people are very polite. I know, I know--that sounds horrible. It's not really a problem unless you are like us and you make fun of yourselves and others a lot. If I say something funny about my sister (which I never do, Eva), they don't laugh about it--that would be rude. They also get concerned when Tommie and I poke fun at each other--like we're going to get divorced because he called me a bug-eyed freak with man shoulders.
Lastly, there's God. He's big down here in case you didn't know. Sometimes young people pray before meals...and it's not Thanksgiving. That's just odd. Religion is more a part of every day life for people than it is where we are from and have lived before. Does that scare me? A little. I'm sure there are already multiple people praying for my soul and I haven't even mentioned my theories on reincarnation. I think we need to start making friends at Weaver Street.