North Georgia

I constantly feel damp and sweaty and my desert tanned legs are dotted with pinkish red constellations of mosquito bites. I might even be carried away by the lot of them, along with all of the other things that whiz and buzz as dusk approaches, but I have eaten plenty of heavy southern food. Biscuits and gravy, pimento cheese thick with mayo, and real BBQ, all topped off by a piece of coconut pie as tall as a Sunday hat.

The fireflies gather and blink little messages. How've y'all been?

And I scratch my ankle and reply, pretty good, pretty good. And you?

What is she smokin'?

We've been busy all day smokin' pork and whipping up two kinds of BBQ sauce, a yellow mustard based called The Sting (of the Georgia Tech Yellowjacket variety) and a traditional sauce with a tangy bite called The Dawg (as in the University of Georgia Bulldogs).

Tomorrow we are hosting a southern cookout in the desert.

I sent out a few emails figuring most everyone was heading out of town and not one single person turned us down. Apparently, you dangle slow smoked pork out there and everyone comes running!

But don't get me wrong. I am really looking forward to the big crowd we'll have. Tonight it occurred to me that we have friends again. After moving 2000 miles with two kids in tow, I thought I might have lost my friend mojo. Who knows, with any luck I might have a few too many beers and give that Sally Field "you really like me" speech.

People really love that.