Our Trip to Georgia

SAVANNAH -- Have you ever been to Savannah? If not, you should put it on your to-do list. It is beautiful. And fun. And historical. And there is a lot of good food -- my favorites being she-crab soup and pecan pralines.

ALISON -- Alison told me to go to Savannah. She's also the one who told me to start a blog. And to go with her to OU. I guess you could say she's a good influence! Last week, she posted about Many Moons Wait on her blog, Aliblog (see blogs I like), and said some really nice things about me. Alison and I have known each other since elementary school. We were brownies together, and then we walked over this bridge and they said we were Girl Scouts. What was that all about? I think they gave us wings, too, or something like that. As it turns out, Savannah is the home of the founder of the Girl Scouts, Juliette Gordon Low.

SARAH -- Another Girl Scout we all know and love is Sarah. She has a blog too, called Sarah and the Good Squad (see blogs I like). Sarah's mom, Alison's mom, and my mom were all Girl Scout leaders or co-leaders at one point or another. We were not your typical Girl Scout troop. And our moms were not your typical troop leaders. The most Girl-Scoutish thing I remember doing is having a talent show at the Girl Scout camp and my group sang, "In the Groovie," a lovely song about knowing what you want and getting it:

I want a cheese

I want a cheeseburger

Not too cheesy

Not too burgery

But in the groovie, in the groovie

I want some French

I want some French fries

Not too Frenchie

Not too fryie

But in the groovie, in the groovie

I want a milk

I want a milk shake

Not to milky

Not too shaky

But in the groovie, in the groovie

If you don't like it

You can kiss my butt

Not on the left

Not on the right

But in the groovie, in the groovie

Did I mention how classy and polite people are in the south? But I digress.

AMBIVABLOG -- After Alison published her very flattering post about me, her friend Annie (a.k.a. Amba) came over to Many Moons Wait and was so impressed with my ultrasound that she went back to her blog (Ambivablog -- see blogs I like) and wrote about it. I have to admit to everyone that I did not create that myself. I saw it somewhere else and -- um -- borrowed it. I seriously doubt that whomever I stole it from made it up herself, because I've seen it on many adoption blogs. But, I feel obligated now to write something really good someday because Annie is reading. She is a "real" writer (as are Alison and Sarah), and has a blog of her own called Ambivablog. I like her because she is a true cat lover. I know that she loves cats deeply because of the way she describes their eyelashes and eyeliner.

THE CHRONICLER -- Myers also read Alison's post, and he left a comment on her blog about how I used to be called the Chronicler. I had forgotten all about this name, bequeathed to me by Dave (or Dah-veed as his Spanish friend calls him, as in, "Dah-veed, this vulture it stinks like sheeeeet.") Dave named me the Chronicler because for one quarter at OU, I took a little notebook everywhere I went and logged the events of the season. It had to be done. Someone had to do it. Strange and wondrous things seemed to happen at all times of the day and night. Things that no one would ever believe. Truth is stranger than fiction, and all that shit. Myers went to elementary school with Stan and also to OU with Stan. He is sort of Stan's Alison.

SCOTT -- So, the reason we went to Savannah was because we were invited to a wedding in Atlanta. Our OU friend, Scott, finally found the girl of his dreams (Jennette) and they became husband and wife this past Saturday, 67 years to the day that Scott's grandfather and grandmother (Frank & Rita) were married. Strangely enough, Frank & Rita were chronicled by the Chronicler in "the book" because a group of us OU kids happened to visit them in their Newton, New Jersey home on the morning of New Year's Eve 1995. Frank offered us bourbon, and Rita tried to tell him that nice girls like us didn't drink, but Frank knew better than that. There were boys in the room, too, but Frank was only interested in Scott's female friends. Frank immigrated to the U.S. from Italy and accidentally took the train to Newton. He was trying to get to Booton, but the Italian accent caused him to be pointed in the wrong direction.

So, to conclude this monstrous post, allow me to chronical a few of the things from our trip to Georgia:

We met the self-proclaimed blackest white-bread girl to ever belong to Alpha Kappa Smelta (or something like that).

Stan drank a mixture of Call a Cab and Attitude Adjustment at Wet Willie's on the river. It totally adjusted his attitude, but we didn't have to call a cab.

The all-male, father-son dance was not going well. "We looked like a bunch of sausages out there," said Dave. So, naturally, he started a Congo line.

After eating at Paula Dean's restaurant, Stan went to bed and dreamed of fried chicken all night long.

Champagne Duane leaves the Holiday Inn Express, but he ALWAYS comes back.