BT 4.0: 3+1=4

Asheville isn't really Asheville, it's Burnsville, which is also a bit misleading as really this little cottage is in the middle of nowhere on the side of a beautiful, smoky mountain. We got off to bumpy start in our new place in North Carolina...a 2 hour grocery trip (middle of nowhere means no grocery store down the block), three broken gas grills on the deck with a pile of encased meats ready for the grilling and finicky wireless made us ALL very cranky last night. After some stove top wieners and everyone's turn on their wireless devices followed by a long slumber we were somewhat back on track this morning. Mark and I woke up to a note slipped under our door and the sound of two confident chefs whipping up their dream breakfast. The note was from the Fella asking if we could stay up to watch the fireflies tonight (heck yeah!) and the breakfast consisted of cocoa Lucky Charms, goldfish crackers and string cheese. I didn't think that was too bad considering we had Doritos and candy within arms reach. The landlord arrived shortly after breakfast to assess the grill situation, quickly determined that they were, in fact, broken and returned with a brand new charcoal grill (which now makes four grills on the deck--it's starting to sound like a story problem from grade school: How many grills TOTAL do they have on the deck? Answer: 4). We headed to Roan Mountain in the Pisgah National Forest. It was a weavey mess of a drive. The kids spent the better part of the ride pretending they were on a roller coaster...and I split my time between fighting off carsickness and gritting my teeth on the curves. This mountain has wild rhododendrons that are in bloom RIGHT NOW! We picnicked and hiked with a whole slew of elderly rhododendron lovers. Mark and I both felt spry...we were easily the youngest adults by 20 years.

Centennial Olympic Park, Atlanta, GA

Saggy drawers

Centennial Olympic Park, Atlanta, GA

Spinning!

Centennial Olympic Park, Atlanta, GA

Three bottles of ketchup on the table...one must build a tower!

Manuel's Tavern

Atlanta, Georgia

We went out for ice cream on our last night in Atlanta. A woman was working on some art at a table near ours. Milo asked me what she was doing and I told him that he should go ask her. He marched over and asked, "what are you doing?" She told him that she was an artist and she was working on a collage. She explained how she made her work and then very seriously asked him if he was an artist too. Milo nodded "yes" and she looked him right in the eye and said, "I could tell." He turned around, beaming and examined all of his artwork that he stores in my purse and chose his favorite to give to the artist. He carefully wrote his name on it and confidently walked over and handed it to her. She, again, looked at him very seriously and said, "I'm going to keep this." You can't manufacture authenticity. He'll never forget her, I'm sure of it.

Manuel's Tavern

Atlanta, Georgia

(Odelia wields the camera)

You bet they were able to identify that logo. You're welcome, Coke.

Manuel's Tavern, Atlanta, Georgia

Krispy Kreme

Midtown

Atlanta, Georgia

As I reflect, I realize that we introduced the kids to "how soda is made" and "how donuts are fried" in the same trip. Whoa, that might be seen as child abuse in some circles.