I was not born in the South.
Despite the fact I've lived in the South for nearly 10 years, I'm a transplant. A visitor. A Yankee. And, I'll be the first one to admit, when I moved down here there were some things I just didn't get.
The slower pace of life.
Up north, we drink our iced tea unsweet. It's socially acceptable to stir in an occassional sugar packet. But, we generally stop at one.
They don't do that in these here parts.
For the first few years down here, I continued to drink my tea sans the sugar. Then I got pregnant with my daughter and was hit with a horrific case of morning sickness. I'd drag myself to work each morning and spend the first half of it sprawled across my desk praying for mercy. I tried lemon drops. I tried ginger. I tried eating something. I tried eating nothing. The results were always the same: I felt like I was going to die.
One morning a co-worker, who also happened to be an Atlanta native, shared that when she battled morning sickness, she found a nice tall glass of sweet tea always did the trick. After all, in the immortal words of Truvy in Steel Magnolias, sweet tea is "the table wine of the South."
Seeing as how real alcohol was off limits, I peeled myself off the desk and stumbled into the cafeteria. I was desperate. I poured myself a glass.
Amazingly, it worked.
And so began my love affair with sweet tea.
Now before you attack me in the comments -- yes, I drank caffeine while pregnant. I didn't go crazy, but with my first child it was either drink caffeine and join the Land of the Living or skip it and feel like ick. (As a side note, with subsequent pregnancies, I also drank sweet tea/caffeine. Because, I needed to be awake at three o'clock in the afternoon. It was a child safety issue.)
One morning, I recall asking the cafeteria lady if she would mind making the sweet tea a little earlier than usual, as I was feeling particularly green. I
laid sat down at a nearby table and watched as she happily set to brewing the tea. Then she rolled out a cart with the biggest tub of sugar I have ever seen and dumped it all in. There were pounds of it, I tell you.
No wonder I liked it so much.
Now that I'm an official convert, I happily preach the "There is nothing that a big ol' glass of sweet tea can't fix" gospel to anyone who will listen.
Kids wore you out?
Come on in. Pull up a chair and let me get you a nice big glass of sweet tea. You'll be feeling better before you know it.
After all, it isn't called the Table Wine of the South for nothing.
(If you're interested in reading what other people are thankful for, head on over and check out Fussy's new Thursday feature!)