A couple of weekends ago, we went to visit my grandmother, the Queen, in my hometown.
I won’t broadcast her age as a true lady never does, but you should just know that she’s pretty badass and I love her lots.
After having a relaxing weekend at her place, we headed home late Sunday night and embarked on our Bermuda triangle tour of I-95. I say that because my hometown is only 2 hours southeast of Raleigh. The trip requires a devoted 1 hour on I-95 that somehow feels like 12. The section of the I-95 that runs through North Carolina is truly the armpit of the state. I shudder every time to think that this is all some people will ever see of my lovely home state because it’s pretty wretched. Dated, weathering billboards with slogans like Dare To Bare, Risque Cafe, and South of the Border saturate the horizon. Mix those babies in with an occasional one story 12 room motel that offers (gasp!) HBO and some uber flat semi-abandoned farmland and well, soon you’ll find yourself describing Las Vegas as a “classy” city. It’s grimy and utterly b-o-r-i-n-g. I don’t mean to be harsh. I love the Ole North State. Truthfully, it saddens me to see once thriving small town communities falling into such poverty and disrepair.
Peaches & Curry 