I got my driver's liscence back last week. It's such a great thing. It was nice driving myself to and from work those last four days or so.

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Georgia, and about mid-morning I decided to head up to the mountains for my previously oft-driven tour through Dahlonega to Wolf Pen Gap to Helen. I enjoyed the scenery, and the music. It's always soothing, and this is the best time of year to go up there with all the leaves changing color. It's mighty different driving a stick-shift through those mountains, and I don't want to try that one again. Fourth gear, third gear, second, third -nope- second after all. AAAHH!

I also took a wrong turn and did not end up in Helen, but Cleveland, Georgia. I forgave myself since it had been two years since I made that drive. My parents used to take me to Cleveland when I was a kid to see Babyland General, the place where "all" Cabbage Patch Kids are born, in a cabbage patch. They literally have a nurse cutting leaves from the head of a cabbage while the babydoll gets pulled into this world. It's fascinating as an innocent young girl with a whole collection of the dolls. So, once I hit the town square in Cleveland, it occured to me that I had never driven to or from the place, and didn't know how to get home. I started out on a road that said "South" so I knew I was going the right direction, but for added saftey and saving myself from the prospect of arriving in another town I didn't know how to get home from, I called good ol dad, because he always has the answers. I was going the right way, but at least I knew for sure at that point.

Once I got back in town, a few different drivers seemed hell bent on killing me, and I needed a beer. So I went to this bar I used to work at, and ended up having a big reunion of drunken souls. It was pretty fun. The ladies decided to start up a drinking club called "Girls Gone Ballistic", they are going to hold weekly meetings in which they will dress sexy, get drunk, and either love on or pick on all the men around. Fred Bob is the new mascot, and they are going to make pins with his face on them. I can't wait to get one. If you knew Fred Bob you would know how utterly hysterical this is. He's a sweet man with a gutter mind, who likes to (as he puts it) help us "stir the grits." He sees things before they even happen, and then tells you to watch, and always sheer laughter errupts. I'll have to tell you more about Fred Bob in my next post, because I'm sick of typing. I'll tell you about the "grits", and how he has forever ruined for me the recieving of compliments from men.