American Gothic revisited. I love this picture of Pookie and Ann because it reminds me of Grant Wood's famous painting. (Click on the picture of Pookie and Ann to see the album.)
Pookie and Ann have invited me to visit them in their new digs in Ballantyne, NC -- a golf course dotted, swimming pool specked, tennis court checkered planned neighborhood in surburban Charlotte. I just barely managed to fly in yesterday morning and have yet to get over the size of their home.
For the same monthly mortgage as they paid for their junior 1 BR in Bayside, Queens, Pookie and Ann now have a 4 BR (this includes a ginormous master suite), 2.5 BA, formal living room, formal dining room, huge family room which is overlooked by another sitting/recreational area upstairs (which leads into the other 3 BRs), huge modern kitchen with breakfast bar, breakfast nook, separate laundry room, fireplace, deck, swimming pool, 2 car garage and a yard. A real yard!
In NC, Pookie and Ann's house is known as a "starter home." Which leads me to the conclusion that while New Yorkers and Tar Heels both speak English, the Mason-Dixon line holds more than geographical or historical significance; the invisible demarcation between former Union and Confederacy states also marks a language barrier. In New York City, a "starter home" is a 380 sf studio apartment on the top floor of a 6 story walk-up building with no laundry or parking, and the monthly mortgage is several hundred dollars more than Pookie and Ann's.
After admiring Ann's taste in furniture and decor and starting my loads of dirty laundry, yesterday involved going out to eat, napping, a movie, eating some more, and then going to sleep. Pookie and Ann watched in amazement (or was it disgust?) as I inhaled two entrees of NC-sized proportions for lunch. Once again, my theory on the Mason-Dixon line language difference proves correct as NC dishes are easily twice the size of NYC sized plates.
After a full day of eating and napping, I still managed to sleep a full 14 hours, which played well into Pookie's master plan of sitting at home, doing nothing and watching TV as Ann could no longer drive to the Blue Ridge Mountains (sorry Ann!). When I woke, Pookie and Ann were debating whether they ought to wake me or not. After my 12th hour asleep, Ann was starting to worry that I might be sick. Pookie, who knows me too well, felt they ought to let me sleep. There was nothing wrong with me other than it's been a long long time since I've slept in real king-sized bed in a room that doesn't have all the prerequisite noises of a prewar apartment building in NYC (your neighbors having sex, the radiator, the pipes, fire trucks, etc) and not had to wake up to go to work or run errands. It was incredibly restful. Thanks Pookie!
This is all false...the truth is that I made a huge big plan to take Pookie out and about in NC, but she choose to sleep all day and then tried to cover it up by saying it was my plan to stay in all day...her propaganda days are still in her...she is an communist by heart...long live Lenin!
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