So the 25th wasn’t so much about joy to the world or peace on earth, goodwill toward men. But then the 26th happned.
The day after Christmas, and I was to finally meet a guy who a mutual friend had been trying to introduce me to for weeks; there was to be a post-Christmas group hiking excursion in the mountains and I had extended (through said mutual friend) the offer of carpooling with the guy, since he wasn’t too far from me. He was all for it and when, by ten or eleven, we still hadn’t heard from anyone else, we decided just to go to north Georgia and make our own day if we needed to. I liked his way of thinking.
He picked me up in an Accord almost identical to my own, right down to the beat-up leather seats—and with a dog in the back, no less. I couldn’t help but laugh, and after our own introductions and a quick hello to the various dogs, we headed north. It was a comfortable ride and the day followed suit, laidback and lacking any real agenda. Conversation came easily, as did the laughter. My cell phone was accidentally left at home, which was by far one of the better mistakes I’ve made in a while.
At noon, the ringleader of our hiking compadres called, having just woken up along with the other party-hearty drunkoheads. But of course. The guy-who-doesn’t-have-a-blog-name-yet and I expressed sarcastic surprise as well as our collective doubt that any hiking would be happening at all, and we opted instead to stop in downtown Athens for pizza before finding our own entertainment for the afternoon.
We lunched at a little street cafe with the dogs and then crossed the street to wander the UGA campus for the better part of an hour. From there, a nearby park provided more time outdoors and we ultimately met up at the dog park with the few functioning members of the hiking group who had managed to get out of bed and rejoin the land of the sober. The gathering brought on fantastically random renditions of songs from the Temptations, the Beatles, and the Wicked soundtrack, as well as animated arguments over Candyland characters … because obviously, we’re all so very mature.
The ride home showcased a particularly vivid sunset and rounded out the day perfectly. It was just such an easy, companionable way to spend the afternoon, and a much needed recovery from the day before … I was a puddle of tired contentment when I finally turned out the lights that night.
I'm no Wishcake (see blog roll -->) with the whole food-photography thing ... but the pizza was excellent, at least.
Heh heh.
An out-of-focus baldy at the park's native bird exhibit.
... And the sunset.
After the usual battle of finding a parking place on the street, and plunking in my quarters to make sure my car stayed where I left it, I waltzed on over to the cute little cobbled streets across the way and commenced my shopping. I stuck out like a sore thumb, meandering about practically screaming “TOURIST!!” with my purse slung over my shoulder and the not-so-subtle Nikon dangling from my neck (and annoyingly, bobbing along with each step). My initial reaction was to be self-conscious for so blatantly labeling myself as an out-of-towner, but then in a flash of better judgment, I decided to roll with it. I balanced my self-consciousness with deliberate extroverted cheer and was soon too busy being amused by all of the baffled reactions to “the friendly treatment” to worry about looking like a tourist.
