Land of the Surcee

I love gifts. Not just getting them (I really love that part), but shopping for the perfect gifts, wrapping gifts, giving gifts--the act of surprising someone and making them happy is just one of my favorite things. I'm a girl who always brings a hostess gift, and I'm not afraid to start my Christmas shopping in July. Now, imagine my surprise this past fall when I was introduced to a gifting concept that was completely foreign to me: the surcee.

You may have seen it spelled circi, sirsee, surcy--or you may have never seen it at all. I know I hadn't, which now seems unbelievable to me, until my fabulous friend Jennifer not only explained to me what a surcee was, she made me the (very excited) recipient of one.

The month was September, and Jen and I were giddily plotting and planning a most amazing Prosecco-fueled tailgate for a Clemson football game. After hearing my somewhat lengthy list of menu items I was preparing to make, Jen wisely told me she would not bring food (we all know I had that part covered), but she would bring me a surcee. A what? "A present. A happy. A treat." That was her reply--I know because I kept her text for historical reference--and I immediately set out to investigate what I had been missing without the word surcee in my vocabulary all these years. The simple description my friend provided had already caused me to embrace this surcee concept, but when I came across this definition online, I just flat out fell in love:

A website called Everything2.com says of the surcee, "It is generally used by ladies who you mentally associate with white gloves, iced tea, azaleas, and a quiet, genteel nature - southern belles, if you would. People though they may drive Volvos and use cellphones are like living anachronisms, bastions of the Old South in a modern world." 

My surcee, in all its orange and white glory.

Yes, yes, yes. Tell me, what isn't to love? While my quiet, genteel nature may be up for dispute, and I do not drive a Volvo, I am certain I will get no argument when I call myself a Southern belle (hence the name of this very blog you are reading). I've also Googled the terms and found that it usually means a small, unexpected gift. I'm not sure how I made it 30-some-odd years as a surcee stranger, but better late to the party than not there at all.

Ironically, I came onto the surcee scene thanks to my friend who is from Illinois; I have to say, she has certainly acclimated well to life in the South, as her penchant for big hair and monograms clearly shows. Our tailgate came together quite nicely, and on a beautiful Saturday in South Carolina, I opened my very first surcee and found (be still my Tiger-loving heart) a set of bracelets in my team colors. A girl could really get used to this. I also realize that in order for a girl to get used to this, the word about surcees needs to spread, hence this post. Read, learn, spread the word. We are a better world with surcees amongst us.

The fourth of July is fast approaching, and while I am exceedingly grateful to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave, I'm even more thankful to have been born and raised right here in the South: the place where people still say sir and ma'am, the tea is sweet, fried things are considered their own special food group, and hearts are blessed on a daily basis. In other words, the land of the surcee. That is definitely something to celebrate.