Quiet People Scare Me

I was a classic victim of middle school mean girls. I was smart. Kind of awkward. I wore glasses and had TERRIBLE clothes. I also whole heartedly believed I was better than them because even at a very young age, I was determined to make something of myself, and I was equally sure that they’d be stuck in my small hometown. To use a hackneyed phrase (hackneyed itself is kind of hackneyed), I knew I was going places.

Now I wouldn’t say I lorded my superiority over them before the bullying began, but who knows. Maybe it’s a case of the chicken and the egg. In any case, my three years of middle school were by far the worst of my life due to a group of three or four girls, with one in particular taking pains to humiliate me.

Many many years later, I am living in a big city and working, basically, at a dream job: a women’s magazine with international circulation. As far as I know, said mean girl is still living in my home town, working at a local business—literally living out my childhood prediction. Recently, she messaged me on facebook, acting like what happened had in fact, NOT.

“OMG how are you?” was her first message to me, accompanied by a friend request.

While many people make fun of the niceties of facebook friending, I simply refused to accept her. As I told people at the time, I would not betray my 12-year-old self that way. I refuse to act like it didn’t happen.

Request and message similarly ignored, I assumed interaction was at an end.

Then, during the 2011 holidays, she messaged me again.

“DO YOU NOT REMEMBER ME???” she screamed in all caps.

This time, I wanted to take a stand. I wanted to say: “Of course I remember you. I also remember you taking special delight in belittling my existence and making me the butt of as many jokes as possible. Do not presume to talk to me. I have nothing to say to you. In short, HOW DARE YOU?”

I didn’t.

I took advice from a loved one, who said I shouldn’t let her know how much she really affected me.

A few months later, I’m starting to think differently. Shouldn’t we eventually learn the results of our actions, even those we choose when we’re young?

I wouldn’t say this girl affected me so much insofar as changing the course of my life, but if anything she did make me more determined than ever to succeed. That’s an indirect positive outcome of her actions, but taken in another light, her choice to bully me is still bothering me 15 years later. Would she have dreamed at the time that this would be so? I doubt it.

But like all bullies who focus more on popularity than studies, I’m sure she’s found out that the golden heyday only lasts so long.

Mine’s just beginning.

And who knows? If she messages me again, my response may surprise her.

(Above: Me entering the dearly beloved rocking chair-happy Cracker Barrel.)

I love Cracker Barrel. For all my “big city” knowledge (Do NOT make eye contact on the bus/Make sure you have your building security pass because IF YOU DON’T it’s a huge deal even if you have your ID/Walk very fast past that creepy guy on the corner), as I get older, I am learning more and more that I am just a little bit country.

I drink Bud Light. “Whiskey Bent And Hell Bound” is sure to get me singing. And I just ADORE Cracker Barrel. Even when I wasn’t living in Chi-town, it was my absolute favorite restaurant.

Now don’t me wrong. I love a variety of foods (Thai, Korean, Indian, etc.), but there is just something about CB’s quirky tin advertisements, old-fashioned candy and, gosh darn it, just amazing sawmill gravy and hash brown casserole.

But anyway. Back to the point of this thrilling post.

I have gone MONTHS without Cracker Barrel. The old-fashioned country restaurant just doesn’t have a place in Chicago.

BUT, this past weekend, my boyfriend and I rocked the suburbs Ben Folds style, going out of our way to eat at the ever-delightful CB.

It didn’t disappoint.

I literally jumped out of the car and raced to the door, taking a deep breath of what must surely be the olfactory equivalent of cherubim choirs. 

At our table, I eagerly perused the menu, even though it was a guarantee I would order the following:

The aforementioned gravy

The previously mentioned hash brown casserole

Fried apples

Coffee 

Biscuits

Eggs

In short, breakfast. And friends, it was SO worth the hour and a half drive. So worth it. 

Cause sometimes this southern girl needs some down-home cookin’, even if it’s served in Illinois. 

  While catching up on my New Girl, (that show is fantastic and super funny, btw) I found myself 1000000 percent identifying with main character Jess as she found herself at odds with a housemate’s new girl.

Jess offers Julia homemade cupcakes, and she declines, saying “I’m not a dessert person.”

My face was exactly like Jess’s at that moment.

How dare you refuse what must surely be one of the universe’s greatest creations??? Sugar. Butter. Flour. Eggs. Ruhdiculous. 

Being a baked goods lover myself, it honestly felt like a violation of all womanhood. I mean, when you’re out with your friends and you hit up The Cheesecake Factory, are you there for the pasta? No sirree. You’re there for the cheesecake. Obviously.

Jess sums it up succinctly later:

“I find it fundamentally strange that you’re not a dessert person. That’s just weird, and it freaks me out.”

Perhaps it’s because I associate chocolate chip cookies and lemon pound cake with uncomplicated all-things-that-are-good-in-life, but not liking sweets? Totally weird.

I imagine, were I to live in pioneer times, I’d be the woman happily baking cakes (all day long) and hopping on my mule to offer a piece to the similarly overworked pioneer lady down the road. Well, not sure how happy I’d be, but I’d definitely be baking up the proverbial storm.

Speaking of desserts, one of my personal favorites was taught to me by my best friend, whose mammaw taught her (that’s Kentucky for grandma, btw). 

The treat? Pumpkin Roll. Otherwise known as delectable pumpkin cake studded with assorted nuts that is then filled with a concoction of cream cheese and vanilla extract.

In a word? Mouth-watering. Check out the recipe below. Feel free to comment with questions (it takes a few tries to master, but it’s so worth it.)

Ingredients

Directions