For GRITS Learning to Clean House: Bullet Journaling 101

The women I grew up with always had everything together. We’ve already written about their seemingly endless patience and grace, and the neatness and beauty that seemed to come with it. When I imagined myself as an adult, I pictured myself following their mold, complete with a color coordinated closet, spotless dining room table, and effortless ability to keep my head above water without breaking a sweat.

But I’ve always been messy. As a kid, my room could never stay clean. The closet had more clothes on the floor than on the hangers, my grades were good, but I always forgot to bring my homework to class. My mother was not pleased. While I understood the value of keeping a space organized, I could never put it into application. I envied my classmates, pretty Southern girls who all had the same handwriting and tucked their Lilly Pulitzer planners in their perfectly organized backpacks. Every year, my school planners went unused, my handwriting got worse, and my hopes of ever getting it together faded. Eventually, I came to terms with the fact that mess was just something I would have to live with.

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The Supremacy of South Carolina BBQ, Part Two: A Trip to Piggie Park

A while ago, I talked about the legacy of Maurice’s in my hometown, and I decided I had to visit one.Maurice’s has 10 locations in the greater Columbia area, but if I was going to go to Maurice’s, I wanted to go to the Maurice’s, the one that stood out in my memory, so I headed down to location in West Columbia, affectionately called The Piggie Park. This one which stood out in my mind as the official location, though I didn’t know why before I got there. Soon after driving offer Jefferson Davis McMahan bridge (yes, really) into West Columbia, I remembered why. While approaching the restaurant on my right, I was immediately greeted with the sight of the giant red and yellow Maurice’s sign, professing the “World’s Best Bar-B-Q” and a massive American flag flying over the facility, easily large enough to cover my entire pickup truck. It felt like it was compensating for something, but I knew I was nervous and biased, so I tried not to take it as an omen as a pulled up into the parking lot.

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