Tall Cotton

I had the funniest conversation with a woman named Mary Kate today. She was one of three salesladies at what I call The Cowboy Store, which has all kinds of boots (yep, he's wearing his new ones right now) and cowboy style furniture. Mary Kate asked where we were from and when I told her New Hampshire, she laughed and hugged me and said, "Why bless your heart, I knew you were a Yankee!" I said "Shush, don't let people know that's what we are," and she said "Honey, they'll know, they'll know!" I never got hugged so much by a furniture saleslady (and that was after we'd completed the sale). She told me about a school in the nearby town of Melrose where "they have a little Yankee boy, and the children just love him to bits!" She asked where we were moving into, and when I told her the area, she said "Ooh, you'll be livin' in tall cotton!" which I took to mean that it was a nice neighborhood.

That's just how friendly people are here. We had long conversations today with two bankers, our real estate lady, those furniture ladies, the fellow who changed our oil (told us all about his new dog), and Darren, the waiter at supper, who shook our hands and welcomed us to town and advised us as to which streets to drive on. He doesn't like the one with all the stoplights, which I liked a lot, having come from a town with only one. Whenever we mention anything about the shopping here, everyone looks apologetic and advises making the hour and a half drive to Lubbock for "big shopping." What they don't get is that we are thrilled with the availability of all kinds of stores and restaurants and services--all of which we had to drive 10-15 miles to get to through the growing traffic of southern New Hampshire.