Friday, November 9, 2018

No country for white, Christian men (and the women who make excuses for them)

We're on fire right now.

Proceed at your own risk...


The other day on Facebook I rather succinctly explained how much I despise Florida. There were a lot of F-bombs thrown. The only thing good about Florida, I said, is the wildlife (excluding roaches!). I was so worked up, the only bad things I could think about, besides the racists, were the heat and the sweat. I was bitterly disappointed with the way the election had turned out--Florida, yet again in the suffocating red--that I couldn't think straight. (Granted, the November heat of this gods-forsaken place could have had something to do with it. Seriously, it's November already. Where's the cold? There is no cold. There won't be any cold.)

I'm still not a Democrat. I have no party affiliation. I used to think that meant I was a thinking person. But apparently crazy right-wing whackos can claim NPA, too. I learned that shortly before the election when I encountered one. He claimed he didn't read any news (because I accused him of being a FOXNews idiot) and yet he parroted a bunch of right-wing conspiracy theories that he must have gotten from somewhere. Or do these ideas travel from dimwit to dimwit via some sort of bigot meme highway?

Anyway, I say I'm not a Democrat, just so you don't think I've been staunchly liberal my entire life and am just pissed that "my side" didn't win. Nope. I've always been--before now--one of those people who votes for whomever she thinks is best.* Well, not anymore. I will never vote for a Republican again.

Only recently my brother decided to "come out" on Facebook to all of his racist, right-wing, Trump supporting high school friends (and hence, people I also know) as a Democrat. It did not go well. I'd already unfriended most of them, but there were a few that now needed the extra thump of blocking. One woman even said "FAKE NEWS!" In all caps, just like that. Crazy.

[No, really, this needs more...I called Donald Trump a bigot (among other things) and she asked for proof. So I linked to an article that listed things he's done, mostly with his business, that are racist. And naturally, she couldn't accept it, because it wasn't FOXNews. Jesus H. Christ, this is madness.]

Anyway, politically speaking (and no doubt in many other ways), Florida, thus far, proves itself once again the flaccid penis of the country. DeSantis? Rick Scott? Are you kidding me?

So, you get that I've been angry, right? And today, I had the pleasure of reading an essay by social worker Michelle Martin, "Explaining Donald Trump (and his supporters)." It's worth the read, but don't get too attached. She does an excellent job in explaining them. This bit stands out:

[R]ight-wing populists yearn for the "good old days," often called the "mythical golden past." This is particularly the case for older white men, and it's also the reason why the slogan "Make America Great Again" has resonated so strongly. They embrace traditional values, including traditional gender norms and roles, including patriarchy (men on top), traditional social hierarchies (white men on top), and traditional religious practice (Christian white men on top). 

The truth, and she only slightly sidesteps it, is that these people are racists. 

But she falls short when she starts talking about compassion. 

I know it seems crazy for me to ask people to have a little compassion for Trump supporters, but that is ultimately what I'm asking. I also know it's difficult for progressives to have any sympathy for people who often embrace racially divisive rhetoric, who defend immigrant kids in cages, who mock sexual assault survivors, and who champion (even covertly) people who walk down the street carrying torches while screaming white nationalist slogans. But their reality really is frightening, for them. And people typically act in the most extreme ways when they believe--when they know, that their way of life is ending.

Yes, it seems crazy. Because it is crazy. Yes, their way of life is ending. But it's been ending for a long time. And Martin admits as much in her penultimate paragraph. People of color, from native Americans to blacks, Asians, Latinos, etc. (We could include any caucasian populations the "White, Christian 'Murican Patriots" despised when they arrived on our shores--the Irish, for example--but they've finally been accepted because you know...the paleness of their skin is all that matters in the long run) have been waiting all this time for white, Christian America to grow up already.

These people do not deserve compassion. They deserve our contempt for clinging to their myth of superiority; for claiming a status they did not earn; for their cowardly acts of violence against enemies they created solely for the purpose of having someone on which to vent their comical rage at their own impotence (acts as subtle as a snub and as blatant as murder); and for their refusal to evolve with the rest of humanity, their refusal to turn away from hate and cruelty.


#NotAllDogs

They are like vicious dogs. They've been trained to froth at the mouth and bark, sometimes attack. But unlike dogs, they are immune to love and kindness, to compassion, because they are warped. They can't be "un-trained" because they refuse to look at reality. They've created their own anti-reality, their own news and alternative facts, their own monsters, their own narrative in which they are heroes. 

But the rest of us know the truth: As Martin says, "Their way of life is ending. " The world is leaving them behind. 


Good riddance!




*About those ridiculous memes going around about how you're so adult because you choose a candidate based on his fitness for the job as opposed to party. You know, that was all well and good back in the day, before the Republican party slid into fascism. Now, it  just makes you look like the bystanders watching as the Jews were marched into the camps. You're not an adult. You're complicit.

Thursday, November 1, 2018

That week in which I was forbidden to write...

Door to an alley in Downtown Melbourne, FL

It was suggested to me that I try an experiment in which I could not write for an entire week.

Why would anyone suggest such a thing? Well, because I was struggling with writing. I have an office in my home where I write and sew. Once sitting at my desk in front of the screen, writing isn't too much of a problem for a few minutes. But after writing a scene or working on a short story, the impulse to flee overwhelms me and I do just that.

Mostly, though, I can't even get myself to sit at the desk. There's something terrifying about it.


Close up of the horizon at Playa Linda Beach, FL
It looks, from a distance, like a strip of land; but it's enormous waves.

A lot of people would call this writer's block, but I disagree. I don't think I'm blocked at all. I have no problem writing words. I just can't seem to do it for very long before I run away. But worse, I have an intense aversion to giving myself the chance.

No. It's not writer's block. It's a complex set of emotions that have me doubting whether or not writing is really the best way to spend my time.

When I started out on this journey, I was filled with enthusiasm and expectations. Those expectations weren't met. And...well, while I have garnered some awards and great reviews, I've also been judged harshly. This putting oneself out there isn't easy for a person like me. I guess, instead of giving a big middle finger to the world in the face of unmet desires, I retreated.




And as I retreated, I put pressure on myself to forge ahead. The result has been a stalemate.

So, a week in which writing was off the table! How'd that turn out, you might wonder. It was AWESOME! No stress! But not only did I not write, I also slacked off on all the areas in my life in which I'd been trying improve myself, or fix myself.

I ate whatever the hell I wanted all week! Some days I had dessert twice! Big desserts! I didn't even think about exercising. There are other areas I won't mention because they're none of your business. But I was free of pressure all week and it was glorious!

This week, I've been considering what it all means. I'm still unsure. I think it might mean that I need to let up on myself. But letting up on myself might mean not being very productive. I want to be productive. And hence...the pressure reasserts itself.


Snowy egret. Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge.

There are a lot of things I wish for. One of them is for a different beginning, a different childhood, different parents. A different me. A me who values herself and her work. I'm not sure that's possible while those parents are in my head, floating around, waiting to pop up now and then to remind me...

I need a refuge. There was a time I thought that refuge was my work. But my solace was invaded by doubts and fears. I can create another refuge, perhaps, but it could never be what writing was. I am writing. I have been writing all my life. Writing was the way I navigated my perilous world. No. Writing is my refuge and I will just have to take it back. I will have to tear into it and thrash about until those doubts and fears run from the cave in wild terror and harbor in the kitchen where they belong.




Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Epcot's 2018 Food & Wine Festival (minus the wine)

Spaceship Earth at Epcot


You have to start hungry, but not too hungry. You have to pace yourself--not too fast, not too slow. And you must be prepared. Print out the list of offerings; highlight those that you must have in one color and the ones you could have if you're not too full in another. Then go for it!

The annual Epcot Food & Wine Festival is nearing its end for 2018, but you still have a chance to partake of some fabulous--and some not so fab--foods!

As always, we marvel at the people sitting in the restaurants or noshing huge pretzels when they should be visiting the booths for specialties. We even witnessed a man getting a Bud Light. Are you kidding me? You come to Epcot and drink a Bud Light?

Granted, Hubs and I don't partake of the various wines and beers at the festival, just the food. But still...Bud Light?

All right, it's off to the races.

First stop: A booth called Coastal Eats. We figure...fish. Our choice is "lump crab cake with Napa cabbage slaw and avocado-lemongrass cream."



Well, it was hard to tell if there was any crab in the patty. And it certainly wasn't lumps of crab--it was shredded just like any other medium grade crab cake you might get at a middling restaurant. We decided that the "lump" was meant to describe the crab cake as a whole, as in, a lump of a crab cake on your plate. But it was a tasty crab cake nonetheless, though there was a hint of soy sauce to it that was not welcome.

The cabbage slaw (isn't that redundant?) was sour and the avocado cream was, unfortunately, overpowered by the lemon of the lemongrass. Ah well.

Next!

At the Cheese Studio hosted by Boursin Cheese (I swear that is the booth's name. I found it suspicious.) we had a braised beef stroganoff with "tiny egg noodles, wild mushroom and Boursin garlic with fine herbs cheese sauce."

All righty then. I like a good beef stroganoff. Hubs said we had this last year and liked it.


It was salty and yummy. The beef was super tender. But the "tiny egg noodles" were more like...crumbles. Still, this one was a winner.


Next, we hit New Zealand! We chose all three of their food dishes:
On the right: Steamed green lip mussels with garlic butter and toasted breadcrumbs
Center back: Lamb meatball with spicy tomato chutney, and
On the left: Seared venison sausage with kumara puree and wild mush




Mussels, because...mussels. Why not? Right? They were bland and chewy with tendons in them. I wouldn't say the breadcrumbs were toasted, just there.

The lamb meatball because I don't particularly like lamb and I thought I should give it a go. It was tender, juicy, and very spicy. There was only a hint of lamb. I liked it. But it was sitting in some sort of useless bread cup.



The venison sausage was too suasagey and not enough venisony. Oh, well. Kumara tasted mildly like sweet potato, which is apparently what it is.

Then we went to Ireland and ate the warm chocolate pudding with Irish Cream liqueur custard. OMG. This is pretty much why we go to the festival every year.




As we were finishing up this scrumptious, moist, ooey gooey chocolatey paradise, a group of people approached and told us it was all our fault that they got some too. We literally forced them to partake of it.

"We saw you with yours and had to have some!"

It was no doubt the bliss on my face and the OMG this is so fabulous! Anyway, I told them I considered it an honor to be the one to force this amazing treat on them. They are, no doubt, better for it.


Next!




Italy! We got the "Polo Alla Cacciatora," which is braised chicken thigh, mushrooms, tomatoes, and parmesan polenta. Egad. The parmesan polenta was pretty horrid. Zero flavor, really, and an unpleasant texture. The chicken was tender and juicy, but bland. The cacciatore sauce was really good--the only thing with flavor on the plate. Unfortunately, it was too mild.

Okay, let's try Spain!




Spanish-style paella with chorizo and roasted chicken. Right away, I'm suspicious. Why isn't it just paella? Why Spanish style?

Alas, the rice was dry and tasted of vinegar. The chorizo was tough and dry, but at least very spicy. And where was the roasted chicken? We think it was those brown bits in the rice. Over all, this dish got a sad face.

So, growing despondent, we move along to China. We chose the chicken dumplings with Chinese slaw and the black pepper shrimp with garlic noodles.



The dumplings were okay and were stuffed nicely with chicken. The sauce was sweet. Look at what they call Chinese slaw... A few sticks of cabbage. Cute.




The shrimp was good because shrimp is good. The breading was mushy, but who cares. It was shrimp. The garlic noodles were thick and dry, but very tasty.

Next up was Mexico where we got a short-rib tostada, described as a "corn tortilla topped with short ribs, black beans, salsa verde, and spring onion.


The corn tortilla was thick and tasty. The shredded rib meat was tasty. The black beans were actually mush, but good black bean mush. The salsa verde was fresh and lemony. I thought it was guac at first so the taste surprised me. Then I was like, oh, wait, that's salsa verde...green salsa! The only drawback of this one was the cilantro. I got a bite of it and I don't like cilantro. Otherwise, yummy.

Then we headed to Greece for some spanakopita. A spinach pie. It was...awful.


The crust was flaky, yes, But the mix of spinach and feta? cheese was bland. We didn't eat much of it.


Last stop, Islands of the Caribbean! Here we got the ropa vieja empanada with tomato aioli. This empanada tasted like it was filled with rib meat. Ropa vieja is shredded stewed beef, so maybe...




The pastry was really thick...too thick. The best part was the aioli on the top. Yum-my!

That was it. All we could fit in. So we rode a few rides and headed home. I really need to find a recipe for that Irish chocolate pudding. I will make a huge pan of it and it will be all mine!






Tuesday, October 16, 2018

5 Things I Love about October in the Sunshine State

Photo by Bart Everson via Flickr



Gotcha! After I posted the 10 Things I Hate about October in the Sunshine State, you didn't think I liked anything about it, did you? You didn't think I'd turn the tables. Well, here the tables are...turned!

It's true enough that I don't like hot weather and wish I could wear sweaters. But let's face it, I'm getting old...and pudgy. Scraping snow off a car windshield and waddling around looking dumpy covered in a lot of yarn is probably not a good deal for me.

So here are 5 things I love about October in Florida.


1. It's not too hot anymore. There's a slight...not hotness in the air. I don't break out in a sweat just by opening the door. Glory hallelujah, it's not so freakin' hot! (Check out the way hallelujah is spelled.)


Photo by Joe Crawford via Flickr


2. Reese's Pumpkins! The aisles of Walmart are filled with candy and the best candy is Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkins. The Reese's specialty shapes have a different ratio of chocolate to peanut butter, and that makes them BETTER! This year, I have pledged not to purchase any pumpkins until after the Florida Writer's Association conference, which, as it happens, is this weekend. (This is an arbitrary date...just trying to hold off with the gorging. But it will no doubt lead to peanut butter pumpkin hoarding.)



Photo by Sam Howzit via Flickr


3. The Epcot Food & Wine Festival! That's right, every year I get to go to Epcot and stuff my face with treats from around the world (well, supposedly) and blog about it!




4. Halloween! Okay, so no trick or treaters at our house, but Halloween means Hocus Pocus!


5.  As soon as October ends, the HOLIDAYS begin! The air will cool even more and I'll start thinking about turkeys and cookie schedules. There will be holiday music in the stores. We'll put up a tree and pretend it's cold outside.


I tried to think of 10 things I love about October in the Sunshine State...but I couldn't manage it. And number 5 is really about the end of October so it technically doesn't count. Nonetheless, I have done my duty in fair and balanced blogging...





Tuesday, October 2, 2018

10 things I hate about October in The Sunshine State

Photo by Andy Hay via Flickr



1. It's currently 85° and the high is expected to be 89° and yet I'm expected to rejoice in the "cool" weather.




2. Everything is either green or dead. There is no such thing as Autumn here.






3. The knowledge that winter is not coming


From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Climate_of_Florida#Winter



4. My drawer full of unused sweaters






5. If I carve a pumpkin, it can't sit outside for more than one night without rotting.



Photo by Andy Hay via Flickr


6. Walmart knows if I buy the Reese's Peanut Butter Pumpkins now, I'll just have to buy more, even though...




7. ...I don't get trick-or-treaters anymore.


My Longaberger pumpkin basket hasn't seen any action since 2012


8. Horrifying previews of horror films on tv every night


Photo by Irene2005

9. Scary tv ads for Halloween Horror Nights and the like





10. It's not December. Not that December will be much better.





Monday, September 17, 2018

Caviar of the South! And a recipe...

This picture has nothing to do with cheese. Nonetheless...
Photo by cuatrok77 via Flickr

This afternoon, I went to Publix, only to find I'd left my shopping list at home. So, there I was, shopping rogue! In the end, I did very well. I remembered everything on the list except the pimiento cheese.

This is not the catastrophe it sounds like, as I keep my cold drawer stocked with Price's Pimiento Cheese. So I have enough to see me through to my next trip to Publix which, if history is a guide, should be in the next few days. (I like my food fresh.)

They call pimiento cheese the caviar of the South, southern paté, orange gold. Whatever it is, it's yummy. Actually, I know exactly what it is. It's cheddar cheese and mayo and pimientos.

Naturally, the best pimiento cheese to be had is the homemade variety. And I thought I had a recipe, but it turns out I only have a recipe for a fabulous cheese log (which I will give to you below). So, now I'm on a quest to come up with the best pimiento cheese recipe that I can to add to the next edition of The Narciso Family Cookbook.



But let's face it, who has the time for homemade, anymore? The next best thing is, in my opinion, Price's. I don't care for the Publix brand pimiento cheese. It's too bland, mayonnaise-y. It's creamier, I'll give them that. But one must never sacrifice flavor for texture.

I eat my pimiento cheese on toast nearly every night these days. I might get tired of it at some point and have to find a different dinner. But I'm one of those people who can eat the same thing every day for years and be perfectly happy. Let's face it, the world is a confusing, uncertain, perilous place. Why struggle to figure out what to eat? Just eat what you ate yesterday, including the ice cream. One less thing to worry about, amiright?

So, here it is, from The Narciso Family Cookbook, another fabulous cheese experience:

PARTY CHEESE ROLL

1/2 lb NY or sharp cheddar
1/2 lb pimiento cheese slices
1/2 lb cream cheese (8 oz pkg)
1 T Worcestershire
1 T finely minced onion
1 tsp red pepper (crushed)
1/2 tsp salt
1 c finely chopped nuts
paprika

Grate cheese. Mix all ingredients with hands. Roll out on wax paper into long rolls about 1 inch in diameter. Sprinkle with paprika*. Chill and serve.

I remember loving this stuff! I should make it again soon. I don't recall what sort of nuts we used, but I'm going to go with walnuts. Make it! Seriously. Make this cheese roll. (I think it makes two rolls, actually...or logs. Isn't "logs" the correct term?)

*Be sure to check for bugs.

Now, about the asterisk and the bugs...you'll just have to read the cookbook to figure that one out.

Also in the cookbook is a description of the Party Sandwich which includes pimiento cheese. It's basically a loaf made with two, crustless pieces of bread as a base, layered with tuna salad, egg salad, and pimiento cheese with more bread in between each layer. Covered with a layer of bread and "iced" with cream cheese softened with milk (though these days you can get spreadable cream cheese, I think) and dotted with halved green olives. Refrigerate until well chilled. Slice and serve. OMG. I need some right now.

Excuse me. I have to go back to the store...



Wednesday, September 12, 2018

There's a snake in the house! A Florida Story...

Juvenile Southern Black Racer
Photo by Mike Leffler at Flickr


There was a snake in the house yesterday. I walked down the hall to my bedroom and there in the doorway: SNAKE!

But it was a tiny, cute snake. Nothing to freak out about. Unfortunately, he slithered under my dresser before I could do anything. (Like I was actually going to do anything!)

Well, I rolled towels up and put them against all the sides of my dresser except at the side near the doorway. Then I barricaded a path that would force him out of my bedroom, away from the back of the house and toward the front. Then I cracked open the front door and went to work.

First, I planned to stick my back scratcher under the dresser and, I don't know...scoot him out. But when I went to the far end of the dresser, there he was! His little head peeking out from under the towel. I went to grab him (sure, sure) and he disappeared again. So I started knocking against the dresser and sticking my back scratcher up under it, moving it gradually toward the other end.


The now infamous back scratcher of terror!
(It's retractable!)

Nothing.

I found the poor thing later, curled up in another towel and managed to scare him back into hiding under the guise of GRABBING HIM! (You should know that at no time did I ever really make such a brave effort.)

I am not a snake whisperer. Obviously.

Finally, I decided I would just have to let him come out on his own. I closed the front door, but I kept peeking down the hall to see if there might be a little snake slithering down it. Like, maybe he just knew the right way to go. But nothing.

My Hero (hubs), arrived home for lunch and I told him about the snake. He got the flashlight and we started removing the towels, unrolling them, fully expecting the little snake to drop out. Nothing. The snake was gone. I was so sad. He was now at the mercy of not just a house with very little to eat beyond spiders, but also...the CAT!

The cat, Squeakers
(from which the snake was never in any real danger)

BUT...

As I left my bedroom, there he was! In the hallway! Going the opposite direction I meant for him to go!

"There he is!" I screamed, scaring him into Anthony's room. I went into action, pretending that I might actually grab at him, basically forcing him to take refuge behind one of the bookcases. Egad.

We removed everything from the bookcase and Hero told me to block the other side.

"But he might bite me!"
"What will upset you most--being bitten, or letting the snake die in the house?"

Point taken.

I did my best to block the far end of the bookcase with a...wait for it...BOOK! (I am so brilliant.) Then we tilted the bookcase away from the wall and Hero did the Heroic thing! He caught the little bugger.

"He is not happy," Hero said, carrying him to the door.

I got to watch as the little snake slithered into the bushes out front. I'm pretty sure it was a juvenile southern black racer. We have a lot of black racers around here.


The Hedge
Last known whereabouts of the snake

As Hero left for work again, I "joked" that he better not run over the snake on the way down the driveway. Ah, ha ha. Not funny.

So, when Hero came home from work for the day, he said, "There's a little dead snake on the driveway!"


Proof that there is no dead snake on the driveway.
Cracks and debris, yes. Dead snake, no.

Yeah. We're so funny here. It's a regular laugh riot all day.

Anyway, that's my Florida story for today.







Wednesday, September 5, 2018

A weekend in Decatur...



We drove up to Decatur, Georgia, on Friday and settled into a Holiday Inn Express only to have our fears confirmed--they'd switched from waffles to pancakes. All along the drive we saw billboards advertising hotel breakfasts and they were all for waffles! Except Holiday Inn Express who seems to think a pancake machine is what travelers want.

My husband may never recover.

You see, the pancakes come out of the pancake machine decidedly flattened and rubbery, not fluffy and soft as they should be.

Bring back the waffle maker, Holiday Inn!




Anyway, we were up in Decatur for the fabulous Decatur Book Festival held every year on Labor Day weekend. Every morning the festival is opened with a parade (a dude drumming with kids and other festival goers following him around the streets). There's music and food and celebrity authors and booths galore.




All the usual suspects were there, including yours truly with Wayward Cat Publishing. We did brisk sales on Saturday, not so brisk but satisfying sales on Sunday, and returned home with an aching back and a bruised brain. (Introvert exhaustion.)

Next door, however, was a new booth: Dianetics. We thought it was funny that they called the booth Dianetics instead of Scientology. But, as Dianetics is a book, after a fashion, and it was a book festival, we'll cut them some slack.

And yet, the main draw to their booth, and the thing they were standing out in front of it trying to engage people with, was the infamous e-meter!

Hubs kept trying to get me to go next door and work Leah Remini's name into conversation. But I'm just not that person. In person, anyway. In writing, well, that's an entirely different story (and one might say, an entirely different Dianna).



So, here's a shout out to my weekend neighbors: LEAH REMINI!

Seriously, though, I hope I didn't get anyone into trouble. There was a dude there who was clearly in charge and he was having some "words" with one of the women tending the booth. And after we left and said good-bye to our new friends, I overheard him asking if she'd "tested" us (I think that was the word he used, but I'm not sure). She said, "No, but I..." and that was all I heard.

Religion just isn't our thing. Cults, either.

There were plenty of passersby rolling their eyes and laughing at the e-metering. But they had plenty of people in the chairs having their stress levels tested. (That's what they said they were doing--stress testing.) One woman laughed as they tested her son, leaned over to our booth and said, "What stress could he have? He's eight." Another man stood outside their booth and called them out on talking to kids without their parents present.

And one woman was at our booth trying to browse books but was so upset about what was happening next door she could barely contain herself. "I want to go rescue them!" she said of the testees.

I was handed a Quran as I passed by the Islam booth. (I swear this was not a religious festival. Just a little religion, that's all.) And I opened my shiny new Quran and read all about how people who don't believe in the god of Islam are sick in their hearts, liars, corrupt, fools, evil, completely in the dark, deaf, dumb, blind and will suffer painful punishment. (Right up front with the nonbeliever bashing!)

So now I need to find some use for this book, because it's clearly not for me. Not. For. Me.

That's the problem with handing stuff out to people whether they're interested or not. What you've given them is almost certainly going to end up in the trash. They didn't want it. They took it because they are polite.

Same thing with the hard sell. Most of the booths were like mine: people behind the table, more than happy to talk with you about their products if you're interested. Come on by and browse.

But there are those few booths where the sellers are standing out front, trying to get your attention, they might even touch you! Pull you over and try to sell you something. They might sell something. And they might sell it to someone who actually wanted it. But the hard sell can backfire. Imagine being pressured into buying a book, getting it home and finding you don't really like it!

Reading is a private thing--a personal endeavor. The hard sell just doesn't make sense. Not only is it degrading and pushy, it blocks traffic!

Still, it was a fabulous festival, as usual. Lots of happy readers and book lovers.




I ventured outside our booth as often as possible with my camera and offer you some interesting sights around downtown Decatur. It occurs to me that I didn't take any pictures of the actual festival. It's pretty clear from my photos what draws me, isn't it?




I found two small doors, for very small creatures, and suspect there are more about the downtown area. They were only about eight inches tall, so I imagine whatever lives there stayed inside to avoid being trampled during the festivities.




On Saturday evening, we had dinner at Raging Burrito. The burrito was huge! I could only eat about half of it. But it was very good. We got to visit with our oldest son and his wife. It must be awesome to live in the Atlanta area, with all its goings on all the time. DragonCon was happening that weekend as well.




At the festival, I spied a t-shirt that said, "Decatur: A Drinking Town with a Festival Problem."




Sounds like a fabulous place to live!