Moving to Richmond, part 2

So it happened, I moved. Quite an uneventful occurrence other than I cried like a baby the whole time. I swear the movers think I am insane, not just for the years, but for many other reasons, one of which is the task I gave them of moving not one, not two, but about ten 30 ft plants.

The first night at the new homestead, we are introduced to one of our neighbors, let’s just call him Jed. Well Jed comes to the door and asks how the move was, blah blah blah, and then continues to ask us where we are from (yes, I know that is not proper English but, that was the question)…”where y’all from?” Uh, well we lived in North Carolina for 15 years, but originally from Pennsylvania. “oh, you are Yankees then huh?”…he mumbles with a disgusted look on his face. “well, sir I guess so”. He continued on about the civil war and how this is the south and a battle occurred right on this piece of property. “we are still proud of where we live and what we stand for”…ok, ok, we get it…your still living in the past. Hello, the north won…it’s over, accept it and move on!

“So, are you hunters?” he then asks. Me, a vegan, and my significant other, a vegetarian…hunters? Uh, nooooooo. “cause there is great hunting throughout these woods, lots of deer…”. So I have to ask, “sooooo if I am just taking the dogs for a walk in the woods, do I have to be afraid that I will be shot?”. He ponders this question…”well, probably not, but I would wear orange just to be sure!”. Great…great to know!

Congratulations, not only did I move from the beach, but I moved to a hunting compound stuck in the civil war era! Yee-haw. Welcome.


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