I know, I know; I'm full of remorse. It's one of those things: the guilt about not posting means I feel like the first post I do get around to posting has to be something impressive and bold and worth reading. This is not that post. This is merely an "I'm still alive" post.

Well, I am still alive, and I'm in Birmingham, Alabama. Really, I am. The skies are indeed so blue (although they haven't quite figured out the warm bit yet). I'm not supposed to blog about work, so I shall just say that it's great, the people are lovely, and I'm learning so much about what goes in to making a national magazine with 20 million readers come together.

The last three weeks have been a constantly rush to rent an apartment, get some furniture (sleeping on the floor for two nights was the low point, especially when I had to get up at 6:45 to get ready for work) and buy a car. These tasks complete, I can afford to take a breath and enjoy a long weekend, thanks to those Presidents!

I have a handful of pictures I put online for my family here:


Anyway, today we are going to eat the best fried chicken in the South. According to one of the editors from Southern Living, who ate at countless fried chicken places throughout the South (Morgan jokes that she's the only person who could qualify for worker's comp based on her cholesterol), the Seafood and Chicken Box in a strip mall in Birmingham has the best fried chicken from Texas to Florida to Delaware to Missouri. You have to call ahead to order, since it takes a while for them to prepare your lunch. We shall see if it lives up to its reputation.

Pathetically enough, that's it from me for now.

At least it's more than a picture of a cat!