Nature — and a carefully planned highway — make art.
We traveled to Atlanta this evening to pick up the in-laws. We met our friend Dave and his new fiance for dinner.
Is this a place where I really want to eat? It is across the street from a large cemetery, hence the name. Which is only clever until you order the fish.
They have great art, though. This one was in the restroom of all places.
“Calling anyone, anyone who can get me a better drink. My wife is killing my tastebuds!”
They might make ads like that, still, but not many people are looking for them in magazines.
So we picked up the in-laws. They’re making a long weekend of it, visiting our new place for the first time. We gave a happy little tour … and then The Yankee broke the ceiling fan in the living room.
I’ll try to fix it tomorrow, but we live on an Indian burial ground. I’m convinced of it.
(Bonus points if you can figure out the title. If you have an answer throw it in the comments.)
