Monograms, MoonPies, and Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving will be here in just a couple of days, and in between thinking about all that good food and what pair of pants can accept this year's challenge, I like to do a little thinking about being grateful. I think that most of us are thankful for family, friends, and good health, so I try my best to dig a little deeper and think about those little blessings that just cap off my bounty of good fortune. I'm sure these gems were on your list as well, but just in case they might have slipped your mind, I wanted to proclaim my thanks for all to see.

I would first like to give thanks for my Southern accent. It is the platinum, diamond standard, best-in-class accent that exists, in my less than humble opinion. And it's not only beautiful to hear: the drawl gets things done, y'all. A Southerner can accomplish more with a sweet tone and a smile than the United Nations can do in a three-day summit. A lady with an English accent offered to take my "trolley" at the grocery store last week, and as charming as that was, she was more enamored when I said, "Oh, you mean my buggy?" I love that my dialect means "fixinto" is one word and that my y'all is authentic.

Sorry, Bahstahn, yours is wicked good but Southern accents are just superior.

As always, I'm thankful for all the carbohydrates that exist in the world: biscuits, grits, and Krispy Kreme not withstanding, but I'd like to take a particular moment to appreciate the good ol' MoonPie. Created back in 1917 in Chattanooga, a coal miner requested a graham cracker and marshmallow snack "as big as the moon," and the MoonPie was born. It was a comfort food put in care packages for the troops during World War II, and it has also been married of sorts to the good old RC Cola. How adorable is that? It's a very Southern, almost vintage confection that I'm afraid doesn't get the appreciation it deserves. My case in point is below, should you have missed the Twitter spat that went down recently between an obvious MoonPie hater and the clearly clever geniuses that make the snack cakes:

Thou shalt respect the MoonPie, Kaela.

Since the personalization mecca known as Names-N-Things was well, a major thing back in the '90s, I have loved the sight of my own name. Back then, it was bubble letters and stencils in acrylic paint, but in an effort to appear a more refined, adult version of myself, that has now morphed into monograms. I know for a fact that I am not alone in this--Southerners will monogram anything that will stand still or move slow enough for them to run alongside it, right up to those monogram stickers for minivans. Shirts, towels, pillowcases, and more, everything looks better with your initials emblazoned, am I right? The question is never to monogram or not to monogram, the question is really circle monogram or interlocking script. I'm thankful to the monogram for helping me lay a classy claim to my property, and for letting me get possessive over my belongings in any color thread my heart desires.

I even monogrammed the pillow cases in our guest bedroom,
just in case someone forgets whose house they've visited.

We all know about my adoration and appreciation for lip gloss, big hair, and sequins. And because God gave us the gift of Dolly Parton, I don't need to list those items separately: Dolly wraps it all up in one gloriously sparkly, bubbly, adorable package that just keeps on singing and lighting up the room wherever she goes. Dolly's had a kind of renaissance lately and is being appreciated all over again by a whole new generation (the New York Times even wrote an article I actually found worth reading last week titled "Is There Anything We Can All Agree On? Yes: Dolly Parton"). I would argue that most of us God fearing, big-haired, big-bosomed Southern women never stopped appreciating that rhinestoned national treasure. In Dolly we trust, and give thanks.

By the grace of acrylic nails and false eyelashes, may she live forever.

As you head into the holiday this week with the hustle and bustle of travel, the crazed frenzy of crowded grocery store aisles, the love and stress that only quality family time can create, and that never ending pile of dishes that will have to be done, take a moment to pause and give thanks. We have so many blessings: from seersucker to Southern accents and MoonPies to monograms, and for all the wonderful Southern things in between, I am grateful.