I keep trying to humorously chronical our absolutely wonderful Valentine's Day date, but it's not that funny. It was just lovely. Fabulous. Perfect. But not really funny. Well, except for me getting drunk on one glass of wine, demolishing a mountain of duck, and laughing myself sick watching Dr. Crog maniacally swivel his man-hips for the hoola-hoop game on Wii after two glasses of pinot grigio. Oh, and I was served 1/4 of a chocolate pie. One quarter. 0.25. Even *I* don't need that much pie.
So let's skip ahead to today, which was also wonderful, lovely, fabulous. Not quite perfect, because we got lost in some sort of demon wormhole and ended up in Decatur, which is my own personal hell. I have beloved friends who live there, and I'm sure it's a delightful area, but going there just makes my skin crawl all over and sends me home to recover in a hot bubble bath.
We went to the Yellow River Game Ranch, a magical place that perfectly balances a colorful redneck petting zoo with wholesome, slobber-covered family fun. After purchasing saltines and graham crackers (because animals need a balanced diet) , we set out to enjoy our first 4-person visit to a place Dr. Crog and I have adored since 2003. There's just nothing better in life than being bombarded by friendly animals while wondering around in the woods on a gorgeous Spring day. The exotic smell of 20 kinds of poop spices the air as roosters crow, turkeys gobble, and guys in Nascar shirts threaten the lives of their offspring for "bein' a sassmouth".
I must admit that the peoplewatching is almost as fun as the critters. One of the signs had fallen into disrepair, for example, so the Angora Rabbit was listed as "ngora Rabb". And a woman actually told her grandson that it was a "ngora Rabb". And she wasn't being ironic. I also saw a man point to a chicken's egg cleverly laid in the high-walled tortoise habitat by some protective mama hen and tell his grandchild that it was "a turtle egg". It was almost as depressing/humorous as the time we saw a lady at the zoo tell her grandchild that an orangutan was, and I quote, "a orange goriller".
And did I mention that Georgia's official prognosticating groundhog, General Beauregard Lee, lives here?
Seriously, that's his plantation home. He also has an honorary doctorate from UGA, so I guess my BA isn't worth quite what i'd hoped.
On the way home, we passed Stone Mountain, which is really more of a Very Large Granite Boulder. But it's Georgia, so we call is a "mountain". The Biscuit assured us that one day, she would climb that mountain, and that we would give her a rope. Why a rope? "Because you can't climb a mountain without a rope," according to our logical mountaineer. Where does she get this stuff? I blame Dora.
After a quick trip to Target and a delicious egg sandwich, T.Rex and I retired to bed for some season 3 of The Office and a delicious nap. The nap was seriously more delicious than the egg sandwich, even though you can't have crispy fried onions on a nap.
All in all, it was an utterly marvelous weekend.