georgia on my mind

15. Check out Lindsey's basement remodel...in person. ;) - DONE!

So back in August I just happened to be in Atlanta.  And my friend Steph of Tijuana fame just happened to be there too.  And our friend Lindsey just happens to live just outside of Atlanta.  So we just happened to hang out. :)

I will confess that adding this item to my list was my own lame attempt to invite myself to Lindsey's house.  Because she's awwwweee-ssommmmee!!  And I looooovveee heer!!  And I just so happened to be in Atlanta last year as well and wasn't able to make a visit work, due to scheduling conflicts.  So it had to happen this year.  If it's on the list I have to make it happen, right?  And she and her hubs had been working on this basement remodel for quite some time, so it deserves an out of town visitor, correct?

We had an awesome time.  We hung out, ate some food, drank wine, ate more food, talked, had a snack, played with her girls, ate a post-snack snack....ya know, the norm.

I realized when I got home that I had taken lots of pictures!

I had a cute group shot:

 

An extra cheesy pic of Liberty and me:

 

A fun pic of Lindz and I and our matching Coach bags:

A cute shot of Steph and I getting our toes did:

 

I managed to steal a shot of me and Miss Rory Scout, same age as Sadira:

 

I had a shot of our memorable meal at the Homestead:

I even managed to capture pic of lovely downtown Adairsville!

 

And it wasn't until I got home that I realized....

I didn't take one dang photo of that basement remodel.

The whole "point" of my visit! ;-)

So I stole these from Lindsey...I don't think she'll mind.  Even if my shameless invite to view the basement was just a ploy to visit, we DID actually spend some QT down there. 

Pretty huh?  The Carsons did a great job. :)

There's one story I cannot forget to write about.  It's one of those stories that was so funny during the day, but not memorable enough to remember in the long term.  So I gotta jot it down to keep it in the memory bank.

After our Coach excursion we were perusing through the outlets and came across a discount shoe store.  Lindsey wanted to check out something, and me with my addiction to shoes instantly started foaming at the mouth.  There wasn't a single thing I needed in that store, and I had just shelled out $120 that I wasn't planning on spending on a purse I didn't need, so I knew I had to watch myself and not buy any shoes.

But just cause you're on a diet doesn't mean you can't check out the menu, right? ;-)

So I tried on this absolutely amazing pair of black peep toe heels.  They had a ruched, gather of ruffle on the front, just before the peep toe and they were absolutely stunning.  And when I tried them on they fit perfectly, despite my flintstone feet.  I was enjoying my Cinderella-esque moment by strutting around the store and checking them out in the mirror, knowing full well that it wasn't necessary for me to buy them, so I might as well enjoy every little second I had with those gems before I left the store.

These bad mama-jamas were at least 4 inches tall, and with me being 5'9 barefoot they easily put me at drag queen status, but I didn't care.  They were magnificent.  And apparently I was (somewhat loudly) remarking about how amazing they were, and talking about how I would, "wear the HELL outta these shoes!" while Steph and Lindsey looked at me like I was psychotic (they didn't share my love of impractical footwear).  At some point a sales lady, an older lady, a little on the plump side with full make-up, coiffed and shellac-ed hair, walked by me and started fueling my fire.

"Honey," she said with a heavy Southern accent, "I'd wear those everywhere.  I work here part-time, and I'd even wear them in here. That's how fabulous they are."

I agreed with her, mentioned how easy these particular shoes could go from the office to out on the town (not that I do much of that anymore since having a child, but ya know, I might find a REASON to with these amazing stilettos!)

She continued, "I don't even care that they're too tall to wear to work and be on my feet all day.  I'd tell everyone, 'I don't care if I look like a hooker! I look good!'"

Now you have to keep in mind, this lady's accent was thick, and she was the furthest thing from a hooker I'd ever seen.  But she was HEE-LARIOUS!  I can still hear her voice and the way her words drawled out..."Ahh don't cay-yer if ah look like a huuu-ker! Ahh look guuu-uudd!"

I wanted to pack her up in my suitcase and bring her home, just to give me a pep talk each morning.

I knew it wasn't in my budget to get them, especially after my most recent unexpected splurge, so I gave her some excuse about maybe coming back later after we had had a chance to check out all the other shops.

As Lindsey was checking out we were standing in line and Lindsey was explaining how everyone in the South has compound first names...like you're not Kristy, you're Kristy-Lynn.  You're not Brittany, you're Brittany-Anne.  Anyway, my favorite sales lady did not disappoint when we asked her name at the register.

"Ha!" she laughed, "well, it's actually a funny story..." (I knew this was gonna be good.  When someone tells you it's a funny story when you ask them a simple question, you know it's gonna be good.)

"My full first name is actually GAY-ANN."  She said it just like that, with emphasis on the Gay part.  Like, "isn't that so funny? GAY-ANN?  What were my parents thinking, setting me up for getting teased later in life?" 

I loved me some Gay-Ann.

A few hours later, after a pedicure, we stopped in the grocery store to pick up alcohol (I bought wine in individual little boxes with a spout, sippy-cup style!) and I hear someones drawl-y voice booming from behind me, "Hey there, weren't you supposed to stop back in my store and buy a pair of shoes??!"

It was Gay-Ann. She found us!

Thank you, Gay-Ann, you Southern Belle you.  I'll probably never see you again in my life, but the 15 minutes we shared together talking about shoes and hookers will go down in infamy!!

Later on we went to dinner.  A quick note about our dinner at the Homestead Restaurant.  We initially had plans to go somewhere else.  A place that came very highly recommended with a disclaimer---"don't let the outward appearance deter you from going inside."

Apparently the place looks like a shack.  If you blink you may miss it.  There's not even a sign.  Supposedly the owner of the joint also lives there.  And the bathroom in the restaurant is HER personal bathroom...as in, there is her shower and Pert Plus hanging out in the corner when you go in to use the ladies room.

Swear to you, this is how Lindsey's friend described it!  Steph and I (who are clearly always up for an adventure and a good story) thought this was just fabulous and we were counting down the hours until our glorious meal.  Until, that is, when we called and were told they were ALL BOOKED UP FOR THE NIGHT.

?!?!?!??!!!!!!?????

How can this be?

We even called back several times, even using the lame excuse, "but we came all the way from our of state to dine at your restaurant!" but to no avail.  They were packed solid and couldn't accommodate us.  And since we only had one night available in our schedule, we  had to make other plans.

Which brought us to the good 'ol Homestead, complete with a salad bar, all you can eat cornbread and pinto bean bar that comes with every entree!  A steal!

So off we trotted to the Homestead. And let me tell you...it was all I wanted it to be and more.  It was BYOB, so of course Steph brought the Moet and Chandon to celebrate the occasion, and despite the fact that our little corner of the restaurant was a little bit dark (call it mood lighting, I suppose), our waitress had a southern twang so thick I could barely understand what she was saying, and the busboy was sporting a T-shirt reminding me that Jesus died for me (don't get me wrong, I'm totally down with JC, it was just surprising to be reminded of the crucifixion while I was slurping down my pintos), I was able to get huge portion of stuffed flounder (so huge, I took the majority of my meal home), with two sidess and the amazing salad bar/pinto bean bar/cornbread deal all for the bargain basement price of $15.

Yes, where I come from, that's a steal.

Our night was supposed to be capped off with some karaoke, which just happens to be one of the items on Lindsey's 30 Before 30 list.  But after a day of shopping, pedicures, a run-in with Gay-Ann, and stuffing ourselves silly for cheap, we were done.  I don't think I could've karaoke'd if someone rolled me up on the stage.  So we went home, drank more wine, and stayed up into the wee hours chatting. 

I forgot to take a picture of the basement.

We didn't make it to our first choice restaurant to see the Pert Plus bathroom.

We didn't even make it to karaoke.

But our day was perfect. ♥

Thank you Steph for being the Thelma to my Louise, this time on the East Coast.  And thank you Lindsey for hosting us in your home so graciously with your beautiful girls and sweet hubby, Chris.

And speaking of that particular hubby, Chris, the very next day Mr. Carson himself took us out to knock off another item on my list...but that one deserves a blog post all of it own, so I'll have to slap a "To Be Continued" on this mofo...