I received a warm welcome from Willie and Bianca upon our return from Atlanta. You know who didn't seem to care that we were back?
Mike and I went on vacation and gave the babies a week at camp. Camp = Auntie Debbie's house. Debbie sent me lots of pictures of the boys having a great time playing at the park, feeding each other and eating popsicles. I thought it would kill me to be away from them for five nights (as I hadn't ever been separated from them for more than a handful of hours), but we all did great. Debbie claims to have photos of their adventure, but I think she's going to hoard them all. So instead here are a handful of Georgia pictures.
My dinner in Savannah. Savannah is a 4 hour drive from Atlanta, where we landed. We hopped right into the rental car and started driving. It took forever to get to the coast, and the whole way we were regretting the choice. Until we (er, I) found out that we can drink beer on the streets. Mike was mortified that I took a photo of my meal, but it was so awesome looking, and even better tasting. Those are baby back ribs, sweet potato fries and gouda scalloped potatoes. I set the gouda potatoes aside because they weren't spectacular and I had other items to deal with. Did I mention that we were watching the OSU/USC game at the same time? A FANTASTIC night!
Houses in Savannah. The greenish one was listed for $3 million a few years ago, but we could probably afford a garage that's still in the historic district.
A sign by this bridge says "HILTON HEAD". I suggested we drive there so we can claim to be all upper class, but all the resorts are private and we didn't get to see the ocean. Lame-o. We did drive up to Atlanta on the "Doc Hollywood" route; two lane state highways that wound through tiny towns.
Mike and I like to eat at regional chains when we travel. We finally made it to a Waffle House, thank goodness! They are all over freeway exits and we choose a great one; the head waitress hollered a bit while we were there and bossed everyone around. I wouldn't want to fill the shakers wrong if I worked there! I had my second Waffle House meal all planned out, but we didn't get back to one. I would have taken a picture, but as I reached into my purse for something (not the camera) Mike insisted that I behave. We were at the bar at nine at night; we stood out enough without me flashing around.
These last few pictures are of Stone Mountain, outside of Atlanta. That's a fancy carving of the heroes of the War of Northern Aggression.