Fried Green Tomatoes

I had fried green tomatoes for the first time in my life tonight.  They were delicious.  I’m thinking about having a tomato plant now just so I can pick the tomatoes before they ripen, bread them, throw them in a vat of grease, and make them supremely unhealthy and tasty.

I’m in Nashville tonight, country music capitol of the US.  It’s cold, and I’m lonely.  I’m here for work training, and I’ve been away from the hubby and kiddo for three days now.  I thought it wouldn’t be that bad for me, but it’s steadily getting worse as the days roll on.

I really have nothing to complain about here.  Our original hotel busted a pipe and flooded out, so they were forced to relocate us to a swankier hotel, the only place that could accommodate us and our meeting room requirements.  Yeah, the Omni Hotel costs $350 a night.  I mean, this place is nice, but shit, it ain’t THAT nice.  The service is outstanding.  There are people around to hold the doors, valet park our crappy company cars, offer us more drinks, and wipe our butts, should the need arise.  The rooms are modern and clean, but I still can’t see how it’s worth $350 a night.  I mean, the last hotel – okay, it was a motel – that I willingly stayed in was the Blue Sky Inn in Bozeman, Montana, and there were people who would sit outside at night with 24 packs of Bud and a lawn chair.  That was more my kinda place, in terms of class.  I look like one of the Clampitts in this place.

As company training goes, it could be a lot worse, though.  We just came back from a pretty nice restaurant.  I ordered myself a filet mignon, and it got comped.  Everything gets comped on this trip – gas, snacks, valet, whatever.  It’s all on the company’s dime, and they don’t seem to care that much what we spend.  It was open bar last night, although since I’m hauling Millie around in utero, Canada Dry was my drink of choice.  Maybe next year.

Besides the loneliness though, the big thing for me is that I get really burned out, socially.  Without the sweet, fluffy cushion of alcohol, there’s only so much of other people I want to deal with.  It’s not that I don’t like people or think they’re awful or something, it’s just that, well, I’ve never been Miss Congeniality.  I enjoy socializing when there’s booze involved, but if I’m in a crowd of people I mostly don’t know, I feel like my program runs out after a few hours.  After an entire day of smiling and nodding and trying to make inoffensive, polite conversation, I find myself extremely drained and prone to being overemotional.  In a nutshell, I’m ready to call it a day.

I wish I weren’t that way, and I wish I could be one of those people who wants to go the bar and schmooze with the company head, but I’m not.  I never will be.  I had a counselor at camp who used to tell us that she thought it was lame when people needed alcohol to have fun with a crowd.  Well, I’m lame as shit, because nine times out of ten, I could really use that air bag.  Gotta take the socially awkward into consideration.  I may be witty at times, but I’m not naturally charming.  Actually, I doubt I’m that charming with a bellyful of whiskey, but I’m sure that I think I’m more charming, and therein lies the key.

But right now, mostly, I just miss my family.  I’ve never been away from my little girl for more than 12 hours, so a whole week is kind of rough.  I just want to hug her and cuddle her and play with her.  I want to hug the hubby and have a nice cuddle in bed.  Don’t get me wrong – having the bathroom to myself and sleeping in until 6:30 is grand, but it doesn’t change missing the family.

I know, I’m complaining.  I shouldn’t be, really.  Like I said, as company training goes, this could be a hell of a lot worse.  I do wonder why we didn’t have it at the home office, but hey, why complain?  If the company wants to spend beaucoup bucks to put us up in a swanky hotel and talk at us for a week straight, I’m not going to stop them.  They buy us free clothes, Chapstick, and give us cars to drive when we’re on the road.  Why not the Omni Hotel?  (Okay, I think they paid the rate for the Sheraton, which was forced to pay the difference for canceling on us at the last minute, but you get the point.)  Why not a full dinner at Puckett’s in Nashville?  Why not a steady stream of free water, soda, snacks, and meals?  I seriously hit the jackpot, in terms of companies that treat their employees right.

So it’s been a good trip, but I’ll be glad to get home Friday evening.  Being away from home, as I will heartily attest to, makes you appreciate it all the more, in most cases.  If it doesn’t, I guess it might be a good idea to reevaluate your situation on the home front.  Fortunately, mine is good, and as much as I have come to cherish the lighted makeup mirror in the bathroom, it’ll be nice to be back in my own.  It might not be as luxe, and it might not have a bar with CMT parties in it (trust me, I wasn’t star-struck, and the singer was basically nobody), but it’s home, and home is, apparently, where my heart is.

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About Marge

I started this blog when I was an American expat living in Changwon, South Korea. I also spent time in France and Germany, and a good portion of my twenties were spent overseas. I clicked my heels together back in 2013 and decided there was no place like home, home being Jacksonville, Illinois. We'll see how I feel in another two years. My ex-husband and I met in Korea. He's English, and we have three daughters together. He's there, and the kids and I are here. When I'm not wearing the "Mom" hat, I enjoy reading, writing, playing my 12-string guitar, sailing, canoeing, and various other nerdy pursuits. I like bourbon and beer, music and concerts, good conversation, museums of all sorts, beaches, comfortable tennis shoes and Chacos, libertarian political theory, and creme brûlée. The Rons are my heroes - Ron Paul and Ron Swanson. I hate Radiohead, home parties, that weird peachy hairspray smell from Bath & Body Works that makes me gag, SJW logic (there is none), and giant rims.

Posted on January 30, 2014, in The Daily Marge. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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