Girls Gone Mild

It's true.

If you look in the mirror and repeat 3 times, "I love fall," a white girl in yoga pants holding a pumpkin spice latte will suddenly appear.

I'm that girl.

I'm in my yoga pants right now, typing this between sips of my own homemade (not quite as good but far easier on the bank account and the batwing arms) pumpkin spice latte.

I freakin' love fall, y'all. I love fall so much that I accidentally booked every weekend in October before the month even began. Technically, we are over-booked. I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

There's no better way to kick off my favorite month of the year (and one that speaks so personally to me as it represents Infant Loss Awareness Month and Breast Cancer Month) than a girls' trip south. And boy, am I due. My last girls' trip, to the best of my recollection, was summer of 2006. So 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010...screw it...I'm DUE. The 5 of us chose Nashville as our destination, both for the plethora of activities one may enjoy without a toddler wrapped around the legs and for the proximity to our houses. We had 2 1/2 days. Greece would have been amazing, but Nashville it was.

Being...well, me, I emailed out a possible itinerary a week before, complete with dining, shopping and sightseeing options. We were staying in Franklin, TN because the hotel rooms on Broadway in Nashville are absurdly expensive. As in, I'm sorry...did you say we are staying in Nashvegas or Times Square? We wanted to have a good time. We did not want to put our families in debt doing it. So, we found a lovely Marriott in Franklin, which, as it turns out, was pretty swanky and fun in its own right. Also, it did not have bed bugs. I know this because one of the girls has had traumatizing experiences with bed bugs and hotels and insisted that we check our beds from the inside, out. I'm not kidding.

Did you know that headboard can come off the wall? It's just mounted on a little ledge. That must be checked for bed bugs. Also, the bed stripped and the seams around the bed checked for anything that is hard to flick off. And did you know there is a website where you can check to see if the hotel has been reported for bed bugs recently? Also, there is a bleach spray you can make and bring with you for anything you feel may need sanitizing. This was all very educational...but at the end of the day, I think I still firmly belong in the camp of "I would just rather not know what's under that sheet."

I slept like a rock on Friday night. It may have been the absolute certainty that I was NOT sharing my sleeping space with critters or the fact that no one was waking up 5 times in the middle of the night, insisting that I put him back to bed or...maybe both...but man, I was all kinds of rested the next morning. Like coffee was almost an after-thought kind of rested. That never happens. But I grabbed one anyway because our agenda was full and it's fall so why wouldn't I have a latte when presented with the opportunity?

The first stop was the Franklin Farmers Market. I had read about it online and it looked promising. Any business that goes through the work of keeping their website up to date (ahem, unlike Daisy & Elm, unfortunately) and especially a non-profit like a farmers' market, seems like a good gamble to me. I remembered reading that there were food trucks onsite every Saturday morning so we agreed to make that our breakfast stop, as well. It was pretty fabulous.

(This is also what my front porch looks like right now. I found Three Springs Farm in Elizabethtown and sort of over-bought on mums because a) it's my absolute favorite flower and b) it's FALL Y'ALL and c) the buds were still closed so my enjoyment would last so much longer than a bunch bought from Kroger. But 9 pots of mums is a lot of mums, apparently. Whoopsie.)

And there was this:

Wait, what?

It's a...

oh hell YES...it's a crepe food truck!!! Smiles for everyone! Actually, I read on the website that the crepe food truck is a staple at the Franklin Farmers Market and really, they had me at crepe. This stop was completely non-negotiable. Mama wants crepes.

A twee bit on the pricey side but it's made with all locally sourced ingredients and after reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, that has been more of a way of life around here. So, I'll pay a little more for eggs that were just laid yesterday...especially if I don't have to be the one raising the chickens. This was a cheese, bacon and egg crepe but there was also brie and apricot crepes and banana with nutella crepes. I bounced between the 3 for several minutes before finally deciding that if I was going to make it to lunch, I was going to need some protein.

Also, it was amazing.

One of the girls picked up a hot chicken and biscuit from these guys...

How much do I love an Airstream that serves fried chicken and biscuits? There just isn't enough time to count all the ways. I tried a piece of her breakfast and, again, divine. Hot chicken is a Nashville thing and while I never got another chance to have it for a meal, it's on my next itinerary for sure. It's not spicy but has the tiniest bit of a kick to it. Really delicious fried chicken at its finest.

After breakfast (and in an effort to stay warm), we cruised the rest of the farmers' market. Vendors offering everything from all-natural skin care to hand-stitched fingerless gloves to these handmade houses were available.

A. I don't know what it is with Nashville and Elvis. They are obsessed. And granted, his blue suede shoes certainly took country music in a new direction, but I don't know that it warrants the kind of idolization that's going on down there.
B. About 10 seconds after we walked past this guy's booth, a gigantic gust of wind caught one of his stands and sent 2 of his houses crashing to the ground. Wood splintered among gasps of shock and sympathy. Lessons learned the hard way, I'm afraid.

Of course there was an entire tented area set up for the farmers. So many tables of fresh fruits and vegetables, including a woman who makes her own pasta. It made me a little sad that I had no way to keep any of it fresh. Homemade pasta with some of the season's last tomatoes...oh how I long for that meal. At the end of one of the farmers' rows was a table where 2 women were selling a farmers' market cookbook called Cooking In Season. All of the recipes were gathered from the farmers, as well as those who shop the market regularly. They were taste-tested and voted on and compiled into one beautiful book that's broken down by season. All of the ingredients can be found in the market during that season and each recipe contains about 4-6 ingredients. Plus, all of the proceeds go right back to the market. Sold!

Then...we found the doughnut truck.

Considering $7 for 6 handcrafted doughnuts to be a fabulous bargain, we stocked up on the cinnamon sugar ones, although blueberry pancake sounded downright delicious, too. They were soft, warm, sugary, melt-in-your-mouth loveliness. It was even better than essence of chicken.

That's right...at the Fleet Street Pub in Printers Alley (where we dined Friday night) the dear departed spirit of your poultry will apparently hover right above your chicken pot pie. Ghostly sounds cost extra.

After the crepes and the doughnuts and the fresh food porn, we gathered ourselves and headed out. It had been quite the successful trip to the Franklin Farmers Market. This girl was happy...

because, after all...it's Fall Y'all!

Next stop, Cheekwood Botanical Garden!

In This Moment

The dishes done,
the laundry folded.
Cleaning out the fridge,
the bread has molded.

Finding the time
to kiss goodbye.
Neal scurries out
with lunch and a sigh.

One vet remembers,
as many do not.
Each day is a bonus,
not an afterthought.

So I hug a little longer
and call a little more
and forget about revenge
or settling the score.

Each day is a bonus.
we mustn't ignore.
We aren't guaranteed tomorrow,
just right now, no less, no more.

This is part of The Scholastic Scribe's Tuesday Poetry Slam that she has just created. I'm certainly not ready for a microphone and a beret, but it does take me back to high school, writing poetry and pose to fit a picture. I feel like I'm 16 again. Maybe I'll have McDonald's for lunch and slip a note to Neal in study hall. Want to join in? Simply jot down a little something and then click over to Mrs. Scribe's blog and comment that you have done so. Easy as Cheese Whiz!

S.L.U.T.S. Tour the South

Before I even begin, I must commend Shana @ Fumbling Towards Normalcy on her most excellent recap of last weekend's festivities and buffoonery. And I suggest you hop over to read her blog, as I will only be giving the highlights with pictures and she does a fantastic job of providing you with the bigger picture.

Now, she is absolutely correct in saying that I picked her up with a small bar packed in the trunk because, really, what kind of southern belle and blog author of Magnolias & Mimosas would I be if I didn't at least greet her with mimosas? Although, just in case she preferred a little something harder (or softer) at 11:00 AM, I brought a variety. And my compliments to Class VI at Robins AFB for making all of this possible for under $50. Shana has generously posted photos of Georgia Aqurarium Parking Garage Mimosa Drinking on her blog. (And yes Mama Virgo, this was before we got out of the car and walked around Centennial Park for like 3 hours, so it's all good.)

Because we all know that Virgos love their lists, here's a top 21 from our S.L.U.T.S. (Southern Ladies Under Tremendous Stress) Tour of the Deep South:

1. When staying in Atlanta, may I suggest always staying in The Glenn Hotel on Marietta Street. Always. The staff is young and flirty, the decor is hip, and the views from the rooftop bar are spectacular. Plus, there is a frosted pane of glass between the shower and the bedroom...y'know...in case you are into voyeurism.

leading into the bar from the elevator

the bar (which was decorated for the Halloween party that we slept through)

view from the rooftop bar

rooftop bar with my lovah, CNN, in the background. kisses, Anderson!

2. It is 3 1/2 hours from Atlanta to Savannah. If you must make that drive with someone, I recommend doing so with someone who loves to swap stories as much as you. I love my husband. He does not swap stories. It is a very quiet drive. Sometimes I make up jingles for tampon commercials in my head.

3. Your first stop in Savannah should absolutely be at Savannah Candy, preferably on River Street, so that your second stop can be at some incredibly touristy gift shop to get your fortune told by Zoltar.

Shana gets caught with her hand in the taffy bin

fortunately, when we woke the next morning, Shana was exactly the right size

4. If Zoltar repeatedly rejects your $1, perhaps you don't want to know your fortune after all.

my fortune: "You talk too much. Close your mouth and open your ears. But you are always willing to be helpful to others." So, I guess there's that...

5. There is a difference between sexy witch...
and slutty witch...
It is important to know the difference.

6. When presented with the choice, always spend the extra $15 for a set of really good fangs. You'll never regret it.

7. Halloween weekend is precisely the best time to take a hearse tour around Savannah. Someone else drives your drunk ass through the entire city while you get to see everyone's costume from a seat that is sort of like what the Pope rides around in the PopeMobile. I highly recommend it. (Again, Shana has the best costume pictures posted on her blog)

8. If your tour guide happens to be Wes, a firefighter with the Savannah FD, he may take you into a burned out building that is supposedly extremely haunted. If you are, by your very nature, a total horror wuss, you're going to need to be pretty toasted when you tour this house. In effect, by the time you see this:
everything should look like this:
Trust me. Especially if Wes tries to take you into the basement. And my sincerest apologies to Shana, who kept getting snagged on my bracelet and instead, was sure she was being violated, repeatedly, by the black vomiting ghosts of Savannah's Yellow Fever epidemic.

9. This is Wes, the firefighter tour guide (in the black t-shirt, not the fishnet. Although, I would not have been particularly shocked if he had been in fishnet).
Even if you dress like this for your hearse tour, Wes will not take you home at the end of the night. He has standards, after all.

10. If you tour the burned out house that Yellow Fever built, you will be plagued by the first sign of Yellow Fever, black vomit, even if you have only consumed 1 mojito and 3 LIT's through the course of the evening. To prevent black vomit, may I suggest avoiding River Street's "Savannah Tea" and not eating beef tenderloin bruschetta for dinner. Also, watching Paula Deen on TMZ will only make you sicker. (Again, my sincerest apologies to Shana the Good Witch for not being able to hold my liquor. I blame the Savannah Tea. And the Yellow Fever, of course.)

11. Hell yeah, Y'all...Paula Deen will cure that hangover faster than you can say "fried chicken makes my liver sing a lover's ballad."

ain't nuthin' wrong with dat

12. The Shalom, Yall Jewish Festival will completely destroy any hope you may have of getting a decent shot of the beautiful fountain at Forsyth Park.

Well, one without tables, people, and tents, that is. But you will get to see and sign the pink fire truck, if you so desire. Ruby the fire truck, dedicated to Breast Cancer awareness.

13. If you absolutely feel called to build a house, the least you could do is build it in Savannah. They just don't build 'em like this in Jersey. Can I get an amen?

14. Leopold's Ice Cream Shop is famous. And a perfectly acceptable substitute for lunch.

15. May you never say a negative word about the Holiday Inn Express on Bay Street. The staff is helpful, the price can't be beat, and they also boast a lovely rooftop view of the river. No bar up there, but I think I will suggest it when I write my review on TripAdvisor.

Holiday Inn Express...not just for the Griswolds anymore...

16. Someone (who shall remain nameless, but has been to Savannah numerous times, unlike the other traveler) may try to tell you that The Pirate's House restaurant is absolutely, definitely, and without a doubt on River Street. She will then force you to walk the entire length of River St. 4 times in search of this illusive and supposedly haunted touristy spot.
It is not actually on River Street. But a simple phone call from your fancy new Droid will tell you that.

17. When you finally make it to The Pirate's House, you may feel obligated to choose between shrimp n'grits and pecan-crusted chicken. May I suggest refusing to choose and ordering both?
And the veggies are sliced and sauteed. Not from a Bird's Eye bag. I asked.

18. New Yorkers understand a lot of things...what a bagel is supposed to taste like...where you can find a purse that is easily mistaken for one from the Valentino collection...how to travel in large crowds without actually having to touch someone. But what they will never understand unless they leave New York is shrimp n' grits. This is a Shrimp N' Grits Virgin getting her first taste of the explosion of flavors that is only possible down here in the Land of Milk and Honey.
Yeah, J...you want to see that face more often? Give that girl grits! And a bottle of wine wouldn't hurt, either.

19. Bonaventure Cemetery is worth the short jaunt over to Thunderbolt, GA. Made famous by the movie, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, it used to house the famous Bird Girl statue. Now, you must give your $20 to the Telfair Museum's Jepson Center in order to see Bird Girl. She is probably miserable. Wouldn't you be if you were uprooted from acres of silence and Spanish moss, only to be plopped down on cold tile, surrounded by electronic eyes? Yes, I thought so. But many other statues are still located in Bonaventure. I propose you get your photos now, before someone else makes them famous. Also, if you start seeing mobile homes and chickens running through the yard on your journey to Bonaventure, you haven't gone quite far enough.

20. It is impossible to take a picture of the Spanish moss that captures its true and mystical form. Case in point...
The only person I know who has been able to pull off a truly spooky Spanish moss/cemetery picture is Salt.

21. Finally, even when you are completely sober (albeit still suffering from an alcohol/fried bacon grease hangover), you will still try to tell your northern traveling partner that the Spanish moss growing in the trees is an "orgasm" as opposed to an "organism," clearly indicating that the next deployment is going to be extra rough.

A city girl and a southern belle walk into a bar...and the town is never the same. And I'm looking so forward to bringing the south to the north this spring. If I come home saying "youse guys" though, I may just have a come-apart.

Wordless Wednesday: Signs, Signs, Everywhere are Signs

As most of you know, we have been burning up the stretch of I-75 between Lexington and Macon. These are just a few roadside signs from our travels. Sometimes, it does a person good to get past the state line and see how the rest of the world spells. Or...doesn't...

click to enlarge if you are not seeing the hilarity in any of these

Clearly, someone needs a lesson in verbs vs participles...or...something. Hey sis, help me out!

Lucky him! Mine only pees asparagus-odor urine!

This is really not that unusual to see on I-75....

Unless it's followed by this...I wonder if the late afternoon sun casts a cross-shaped shadow over the "back room"....

Oh Warner Robins Logan's...I really hope the "appitizer" is something prepared over a pit and not the result of your bus boy being tasked with changing the sign.

Happy Wednesday, lovahs! Champagne Friday is only 2 days away! And if you're looking for something pink and shiny AND want to help fight breast cancer with Susan G. Komen's Race for the Cure, come visit me at Daisy & Elm until the end of the month! Need more details? Check here. See you THERE!