+[more evidences of being "home"]

Golf carts, with my blissfully happy daughters driving,  as a main mode of transportation.

My mother changing purses 3 times a day.

The understood truth that linen wicks away sweat ... and talking with ones hands is just another form of a hand fan.

The daily afternoon ritual of sweet tea (iced... please tell me you knew that) and a big wooden swing, lazily swaying with foot dragging on the wooden floor, watching the world go by.

My accent coming back so thick that even I can hear it.

Monograms on everything.

Straws only during illnesses or Coke from a can.

The unspoken knowledge that if you can be ready to leave the house in less than 30 minutes, you probably shouldnt be leaving the house at all.

"Bless her heart" as the awkward moment filler.