So many overpriced (albeit enjoyable) tourist destinations within a few hours of Atlanta, so little time.

What’s not to love about a place with gnomes, sky bridges, a raptor show and a view of 7 states (on a non soupy day), especially when it shares a home (Lookout Mountain) with caves that bring you over 1000 feet into the earth to a glorious waterfall? Nothin’, that’s what. Loved it all so much that even the children getting tangled around my ankles were tolerable.

If you’ve got a day to burn and you’re within a few hours of Chattanooga, take the drive, cough up the scratch and enjoy. Hell, I liked it so much I intend to go back in October to play in the corn maze. Whee!

We escape our twenties by the skin of our teeth and on the brink of sanity to find ourselves awake in our thirties. Really awake - alert and aware in a way we haven’t been before. We’ve found our roots, our ideals and our morals, but we’ve lost our dreams to the hole in the bucket, dear Liza. This is where we look for ourselves in hobbies and past times that reclaim a fraction of the life we didn’t have the resources, the courage or the persistence to pursue when we had true youth on our side.

Lost in my own personal rush-rush, careers I dreamed about but never chased:
* DEA agent
* Nutritionist
* Drummer
* Flight attendant
* Private Investigator
* Writer

Things I haven’t done, but plan to (ongoing list you’ve seen before):
~ Take a bellydance class
~ Learn to play the drums, the cello or the harp
~ Run a full marathon, no more half marathons
~ Sky dive
~ Laugh…a lot (on going)
~ See the pyramids
~ Learn to snowboard
~ Stay in a treehouse in Fiji (or at least south Georgia)
~ Continue to be thankful (on going)
~ Swim nekkid in a big bright blue ocean with no one around for miles
~ Learn to ride (aka drive, man, command) a motorcycle or scooter
~ Finish at least one script and submit it
~ Compete in a biathlon or triathlon
~ Grab a cheap fare and split for Paris or London on a whim
~ Travel on a whim more: Paris, Barcelona, Frankfurt, Brussels, Amsterdam, Madrid, Zurich or Rome
~ Go to a concert, deal with the crowd, and be happy about it
~ Play a team sport and not freak out about it
~ Learn to knit
~ Take a photography class and buy a better camera
~ Get a job I love getting up for every morning
~ Swim with turtles
~ Go back to school to study world religions
~ Make a difference

E tu?

~ Stop by Knitch on the way home for a few fresh balls of super chunky cashmarino in Ice Blue and Colonial Blue
~ Arrive home, immediately and turn BlackBerry off, leave it in the kitchen
~ Change into jammies and spa socks
~ Climb in bed with yarn, needles, and craptop
~ Order lunch from Bab’s and dessert from Chocolate Pink Cafe via Zifty
~ Receive lunch with lovely note and special gift from Jen (owner of Zifty, wife of Tyler and complete sweetheart)

~ Eat naughty, greasy appetizer in bed

~ Eat naughty, yummy lunch in bed

~ Attempt to eat naughty, illegal desert in bed (some assembly required), stop two bites in and save for later (so. damn. rich.)

~ Nap

That’ll do.

This picture snapped over the weekend near the rarely traveled path that is Bear Creek Trail, the view from which nearly rendered me speechless.

In the mist of the clouds and the silence of the mountainside we had to ourselves I still managed to mutter a “Dear lord baby Jesus… you’re just sitting there watching your little Einsteins movie and learning your colors and shapes…” along with a “thank you for this freakishly warm weather that lets me hike in the dead of winter with nary a thought for a coat”

What. You didn’t think I’d actually be speechless?

More here, if that wasn’t enough.

In Georgia they call them “mountains”. I like to call them “big blue boobies” because from a distance, that’s what they favor. I suspect this is what originally drew men in, not promises of gold.

Near Alpine Helen, at the foothills of the N GA mountains and 90 miles north of Atlanta, you can get a sample of what the boobs are really made of in Unicoi State Park or in the neighboring attraction of Anna Ruby Falls where trees are so bad ass – they grow out of rocks.

Back in town, you can sample the flavors of a town that’s known far and wide for it’s Bavarian flair. Do I drink beer? Nope, but today is a good day to try. Especially when I have a DD and there’s a variety of sausages involved, it seems criminal not to. Yeah, c’mon.

In north Georgia, the horses come with their own poop catchers, the nuts are nuts, the grist mill that has been there 150 years is still operating (no chit, didn’t I see that four at Whole Foods? Yes, I did) the jaw breakers are as big as your head and the air is so clean your body barely knows what to do with it. Note to self: next visit –> the winery.

They may not be my mountains, but they’ll do. How much longer ’till I can retire? This working shit is for the birds.

One of the wonderful things about being around my family is the regression of my psyche. When I’m with Jennifer part of me is suddenly 10 again, the same age I was when she left for Northwestern. Part of me remains 33, set in my ways and half evolved, suddenly alert to the fact that she’s a grown up and in turn, so am I. Kinda.

There’s an understood silence between us when we’re together, no pressing need to make silly idle conversation and no need to visit the demons that haunt us both…just comfort and peace and a connection regained as though it was never lost.

For all our time apart during the years that sculpted us, our mannerisms are eerily similar - our speech patterns match, we order the same foods and say the same key things to waitresses and cashiers – in unison and on accident.

Her new life in Texas is one many of us aspire to, having left the wiles of LA with a wad of cashola to settle down in the woods with the option of working for love instead of money. She’s a remarkable woman beyond the fact that she put herself through school for her Masters at Pepperdine while teaching part time and working full time, beyond her incredible wit and enthusiastic optimism, beyond her ability to lead with a plastic palm tree in her office complete with twinkely lights and a pink feather boa.

She chased her dream and caught it, silently encouraging me to do the same. The best part of all could be her ability to remain ready, willing and able to make The Batface proving that our roots are sill strong and healthy despite miles and time.

Since we last played, Stacey gave birth and Chrissie got married. Dej and I have been…living…and that’s enough fuel for conversation in and of itself.

Stories aside, these are the facts from Tuesday night:
1) Dejie doesn’t have to cheat to win…which is disturbing
2) Stacey doesn’t have super Scrabble powers without Claren in her belly
3) Chrissie draws slang right out of the bag - but what exactly is a “big tunk”?
4) We regressed to playing slang, and still lost by 140 points
5) Stacey does have super alcohol powers, and demonstrates them by creating her own rawkin’ sangria out of crappy white wine
5) Claren is the sweetest baby ever