I am an avid and shamelessly gushy fan of writer Rick Bragg. Last week's impromptu Wordstock gang had a lively discussion about a number of authors, including Mr. Bragg and Dean mentioned that the was from that area. I knew that he was from northwest Alabama but thought it kinda cool that he was truly a local. When Bevvie and I were on our way to Dean and Jen's when I noticed a text from Dean, asking about our ETA. We were getting gas but having turned my route over to a higher power, the GPS, I had absolutely no clue where we were and I replied as such. I didn't really mind so much, not knowing where we were, but realized that we were closing in on our hosts and should pinpoint our location. So yeah, I did what generally only a woman feels truly comfortable doing and asked some stranger, a shirtless youth at a neighboring gas pump, where we were and how far we were from our destination. His response, which included much navigational gesturing, assured me that we were very close to our endpoint...and lunch. He also ma'amed me almost into putting a down payment on a house in the deep South right there and then. There's just something about the male of the species showing respect for the other half. Back on the road, our next instruction from the inhabitor of my Garmin was to turn onto Roy Webb Road. Imagine my delight when I read Rick Bragg's column in this month's \"Southern Living.\" Yet another small world delight, proving that sometimes the universe complies ;-D