Honeymoonbeams

Well, hello there. I'm in Georgia.

Rather, we are in Georgia. As of a week ago, I'm a married girl. Wifey material. Tied down and committed to one person to argue with forever. And after recouperating from intensive end-of-camp time, family travels and reunioning, we loaded down Sullivan the Dodge Caliber with camping gear and food and at least three or four cameras and drove for 28 hours to finally land here, a spot on the map we arbitrarily picked, Blairsville, Georgia, in the north of the state in the Chatahoochee National Forest. Speeding through Nacadoches, Texas to Shreveport, Louisiana and Jackson, Mississippi and eventually on up through Georgia. It's gorgeous. We're holed up in a snug motel on the square with a quasi-mountain view and easy access to our cooler full of leftover wedding beer. (Tonight is a Dos Equis and Tecate evening.) Tomorrow night or so we're going to camp and then it's on to the Carolinas or up the Appalachian Trail.

On the definite list to visit so far are:

• Washington, DC: museumry (Smithsonian!) and monumentally things and the like.
• Assateague Island, Virginia: wild horses and kayaking and camping on the beach. (Did you read Marguerite Henry books as a child? Then clearly you weren't a little horse girl. I so was.)
• Wherever in Kentucky our friend Tobbe lives.

The only real complaint we've had is a plethora of fast food on the drive from Texas, which we did relatively non-stop. Hopefully we'll fix that with more picnicking and less Chick Fil A.

Mmm, waffle fries. And mountains. Great combination.