Southern Lifting

My mom had stacks of Southern Living magazine in a worn basket by our fireplace in the house where I grew up.  Something about the covers from the 80s and 90s made it appear drab and boring; I was more into Disney Adventure & Hot Dog! magazines for kids (be careful if you Google that one...).  Perhaps moving to France made me sentimental for the good ole South.  I'm not one to always appreciate what I have until it's gone.  As soon as I made my way back below the Mason Dixon line, I am pretty sure I became a Southern Living subscriber.

I love it because it highlights the best food and rustic lifestyles of Southerners.  Each state has its own flavor and each town has its own twist on that identity.  I am a (seer)sucker for a dozen different ways to do deviled eggs for entertaining and tours of elegant homesteads with lush gardens.  I especially dig the information on where to go when sightseeing on a budget and style features with classy southerly ladies clad in pearls.  Something about this publication makes the tradition of homemaking so refined.  My rewards system for doing chores typically revolved around candy indulgences; sweets have all but been replaced by time perusing my monthly Southern Living.  I would say it took the guilt out of my "guilty pleasures"... or so it was until today.

Do SL editors ever publish their periodical without one picture of a hydrangea?  It's in the running for most southern plant along with the magnolias, azaleas, dogwoods, and the flora powerhouse combo of Spanish moss and live oaks.  After so many photographs of these heavenly hydrangeas neatly hedging homes, I hoped to have some of these fresh cut flowers for my own.  Wouldn't you know that our landscapers had planted some throughout our apartment complex last month?  I have been eying these for weeks and devising a plan to get a bundle without detracting from the work these gentlemen have done.

Baby B and I took a stroll to our local library today to check out some dvds on sign language.  On our walk home, my mind plotted how to best make my move on the hydrangeas as I envisioned a pom-pom arrangement in a mason jar.  Baby B stood guard while I found an under-appreciated bundle of blossoms in the back of the bush.  Surely no one will miss what they've never seen.  With one quick snip, they were mine.  We took the path through the woods back to the apartment; I hoped not to arouse suspicion and chose a route where we'd be alone. Once home, B and I celebrated our floral laurels with a round of water for everyone.

I feel like Martha Stewart for all the wrong reasons...

... but these are irresistibly divine!

Let me apologize to the following folks for my lack of self-control~ to the fine people who make Southern Living who can't intend for their readers to pinch posies, to baby B who witnessed his mother do something he shorn't do, to the management of our apartment complex who commissioned the beautiful landscaping, to the landscapers who planted flowerbeds around the property beautifully, and to my mom who only had the best intentions when she gave me the gift of my SL subscription.  I'm sorry.  I think it's high time I enjoyed a peppermint patty in place of my magazine when I complete tomorrow's tasks....