like crack cocaine

I am not dead. Yet. I'm helping my mom set up her new house in Sapphire, NC. Seriously in the mountains. And for a city girl like me, it's a stretch. A big stretch. I think we're the only black people in the county. The dry county. Which means no liquor stores or bars. The nearest liquor store is like 40 miles away. And there's nothing to do here but hike and sit on the couch watching satellite tv. You can probably guess which one I'm doing.

I'm posting from the nearest internet I could find. A Christian coffeeshop, Mountain Perk. It's cute, despite the Fox News playing on the television and Christian books. Shockingly, I have not yet burst into flames from proximity to this much bible-thumping holiness. I did tell my mom that if she comes to get me and I'm not here, I'm probably the pile of ashes next to the IBook and messenger bag.

Despite all these shortcomings, the new house is gorgeous. And last night, I saw stars. Actual stars over the mountain. For those who don't live in DC, we don't have stars. We have smog. And street lights of questionable quality. And cranes dotting the skyline. No stars. Even the grumpy, cynical, city girl was impressed.