Things I Miss

Being able to spend four months in Italy definitely goes in the “oh-my-gosh-i-don’t-deserve-this-amazing-experience” category, and I’m very aware of how spoiled I am to be here. That being said, I’m thrilled to say I have a lot to to miss back home.

Give me southern accents. Give me summer nights at Eddie’s Attic, prefaced by pizza and pitchers and Fellinis or Tacqueria del Sol.

Give me family dinners, and give me “family” dinners. Give me decent mexican food and give me a Blue Moon, with a pretty orange slice on the rim. Give me a menu with three different Sweetwater beers; make me debate the options. While you’re at it, keep the free h20 coming, and don’t forget my laaarge iced fountain diet coke.

Give me gameday. Give me Rocky Top – – make sure you follow it with a round of Wagon Wheel, preferably at Hanna’s. Let me squeal and act like an idiot when I run into someone I know at a bar, even if it’s Knoxville and there are only 4 good bars and I already knew who would likely be where. Give me Tin Roof, but once that gets lame give me Cool Beans. If I can’t afford that, at least give me Animal Hour at the Gnome? Let me relive it all the next day at Copper Cellar, Moe’s, Chili’s, or maybe just sitting on someone’s floor at Laurel.  Give me lean cuisines and webisodes in bed, and give me a room so messy I can’t see the floor (sorry mom!).

For goodness sake, give me Chick-Fil-A. Give me waffle fries and chicken biscuits and char-grilled salads with honey mustard dressing. Speaking of dressing, give me ranch dressing. Lots of it. And a wedge salad from Dunwoody Tavern. Give me monotonous nights in Dunwoody and bizarre nights in Buckhead. Rush me onto the MARTA train for the Braves game, but make sure I take the wrong one; it wouldn’t be a MARTA ride without some mishaps.

Give me a run-in with the Dunwoody Police. Make sure, as usual, it’s at a time when I’m doing absolutely nothing wrong, but that they act rude and pushy, nonetheless, just to really give me that nonstalgic feeling. Give me walks through Village Mill and long talks in basements and on screened porches and make sure all of that is following a long ride in a convertible.

Give me my family, the people I love running into, the people I hate running into, and the randoms who are in between.

For the time being,  guess I’ll be content with the bottomless wine, breathtaking sights, personable shopkeepers, Piazza Michelangelo gatherings, train rides, market trips, new friends, old friends, carbohydrates, and conjugations. Seeya in a month, A-merr-kuh!

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