Inhale, 1, 2.
Exhale, 1,2.
Inhale1, 2 a-a-a-n-n-n-nd exhale1, 2.
Enough of this nonsense. The Baroness is so beside herself with glee, she cannot possibly begin to calm down. To quote Countess Scarlett , I'm licking the walls (gee, I hope I used this term in the appropriate context...). Why is this so, Baroness? Forget about pulling up the cozy chair this time. Don't bother even getting comfortable. This can't possibly wait for you to do all that. I'm just going to blurt it out - I'm going to Savannah, y'all!
Yes, (yup?) - plans have been finalized, reservations made, cholesterol-related drugs ordered. It's now official. The Baroness and her faithful companion Countess Vi are off to stalk us some Paula Deen. And Bobby Dean. And Jamie Dean. Maybe even her dog (as I write this, I realize that perhaps it may not be prudent to be putting this in writing - it can only end up serving as evidence. Oh well, fiddle dee dee. I look stunning in orange - brings out my aqua eyes).
I am sure that at this point, some of you may have questions. Why Savannah, Baroness? Why Paula Deen, Baroness? Why now, Baroness? And why, oh, why do you continue to speak in the third person? I will now attempt to illuminate you, to draw you in to the weird and whack-a-doodle von Bloggenschtern world...
1. Why Savannah? Well, when B vonB and Countess V were planning this girly getaway, Countess V (who lives in the glacial midwest) insisted that it be somewhere warm. My only criteria was that it be in the U.S., and that wherever we went, they had accents. Voila! Georgia. On my mind. It seems perfectly logical to moi. Those of you who know the Baroness know that my logic defies description, and, well - logic. In this universe, anyways. So let me be.
2. Why Paula Deen? Let me count the ways. Her laugh, her spirit, her corn-pone accent (which the Baron insists is put on. Heathen.), her ability to turn everyday boxes of pudding into the sublime.
I have been a Paula fan from a long way back, since her early Food Channel days, when I saw her shredding a big ol' baked chicken into wee tiny shreds of heaven with her ring-laden, long-nailed bare hands. I was transfixed. Perhaps appalled. But definitely transfixed. This was clearly a woman who meant binn-iss. Plus, she bears a striking resemblance to one of my favorite relatives, Great Aunt Lexa. Who, by the way, also knew her way around a box of jello. Such an artisan. And a prairie fashion plate to boot. That woman could work a housecoat like no one else. Oh, Lexa...
I digress. I did not premeditate this trip with the agenda of lurking after the Lady and Sons (this may also be used as evidence, and overrules the stalking confession earlier). Like so many other things Southern, it is merely the gravy on top. In fact, I am fully aware of the fact that Ms. Deen and/or her hunk o' hunk o' burning sons may not be there. But their aura will be. Plus some kick-heart (as opposed to kick-ass) food. And some sort of memorabilia.
3. Why now? Well, why not? Countess Vi and I have plans to visit the birthplace of Dean Martin - Steubenville, Ohio - but it's not the right time of year. Hey! Don't think I don't hear you out there thinking to yourself - is there a right time of year to visit Steubenville? Yes. Yes there is. I think* that Ohio might be far more delightful in the fall. Plus, I'm in need of some inspiration to fill the creative well. Surely people with accents will be kitschy. (I did see Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil- it should be like that, non? That Lady Chablis really kicked it. )
*see explanation of Baroness logic, article 1.
4. The third person thing? The Baroness finds this very amusing. And she is the self-appointed royalty in her own life*.
*Again, see logic, article1.
So, dear readers, The Baroness awaits your response. Suggested places to go? Things to eat? Accents to hear? Tell me everything, y'all.
I hate our travel concierge. Asshat.
is no longer.
Still open for business. FABULOUS!!
