Last night T and I went to a little block party for celebrating golf week in Charlotte. As we were leaving we stopped by restaurant for a snack at the bar – just a simple order of fries for the man in his signature golf polo and the gal wearing orange. (Team Rickie, of course.)

“With ranch, please.”
“We don’t carry ranch.”

Shock. Hurt. Amazement.

Laughter (courtesy of T.)

There are a few Oklahoma staples I’ll never do without: starch on my jeans, responding to “what kind of coke do you want?” with “Dr. Pepper,” and ranch.

I need ranch on everything: wings, lasagna, pizza, fries…. salad.

It’s never occurred to me that this might be viewed as odd by the rest of the continental United States, or maybe even the globe.

No, you’re odd, world.

I’ve made it through my second full week of work, and this time – not as a sick kid. If I could give myself a high five, I would. Instead I bought myself something pretty on the internets. Don’t shake your head at me. If you survived two weeks of learning new clients, new coworkers and a new city – you’d buy yourself something from Kate Spade’s family and friends sale, too.

Let’s talk Charlotte.

The main difference between the 405 and the 704:
Substitute the red dirt that coats your car after a cruise down a country road with a yellow chalkish substance, and that’s what every car in North Carolina looks like. Pollen. It’s everywhere.

The meteorologists said we’d have severe weather last night. I looked at the radar and saw green and yellow when I was used to seeing red and black. Calm down, North Carolina – it’s just rain.

It’s safe to say nothing was sold or claimed by the section in this wonderful state. This means an east/west road easily turns into a north/south road, which results in me discovering new parts of town. Not cool, Robert Frost.

Last weekend, we went to Atlanta. Read as: replace “weekend trip to Dallas” with “weekend trip to Atlanta.”

In the 405, my client was a region of the state. Here, I’m working with the entire state. A state I’m so excited to discover.

I’m the worst sick person.

It’s particularly bad when it corresponds with starting a new job in a new town.

I’m not as tough as T. He drove Miss Molly and myself from the 405 to the 704 all while fighting a horrible cold and allergies. He didn’t even complain. What’s that about?

Me? Well I just lay on the bathroom floor to soak up the coldness of the tile. I’ve always been on the dramatic side when my temperature gets a little too high.

And, I’m needy. When I’m sick I have serious entitlement issues. It’s pathetic, man.

So, while I’d love to share with you all the new and great things about my new town and my new lovely job – I don’t have anything. It’s all introductory work meetings (I have some seriously fun clients) and hittin’ the hay in the embarrassingly early o’clocks.

With that said, you should know that fiancé of mine is sort of the Garth to my Wayne. He used flowers as a cover-up to smuggle in meds on my first day of work. Clearly he didn’t want me to get pegged as the weird kid too soon. It’s inevitable, really.

Flowers and spotting a stray chicken in my ‘hood on the way to work has been the highlight of my week. Fingers crossed I kick this cold before the weekend rolls around – I have Georgia on my mind… and baseball pants.