I had to get on Melissa for coughing in the restroom. The rest of us ED's (an unfortunate coincidence of initials) were hanging in the kitchen sitting area of Lizzie's compact college-student apartment. It's actually the bottom half of an older home on a noisy street here in Savannah. Quite close to historic downtown with it's quaint city squares and the spread out campus buildings of SCAD. I scolded her for smoking and asked if she needed a lozenge. Visions of her small hands waving about in a vain attempt to disperse wisps of tobacco-infused air danced in my head. But of course she doesn't smoke and, of course, I was simply harassing her for fun. Her throat is simply dry and a bit scratchy from a combination of weather and almost unending chit-chat between all of us. Four ladies over the age of 40 caught in endless chit-chat? Do go on. But, our chit is the chat which temporarily solves the problems of the world.
Lest you think Savannah is all food and no substance (though food is a highly significant substance), we tried to attend the Sidewalk Art Festival and contest at City Park but the rains hit and dampened the palettes considerably. Not our fault we were relegated to a morning of cinnamon buns -- oh my! -- and people watching at ye faithful local bakery. Little old ladies with full bladders emerging from gigantic tour busses barely able to safely clear a corner make for high times. All of us found it a bit surprising that no one purchased from the array of sweets at the counter. Evidently, the brownie sample filled their bellies or they'd recently hit a buffet elsewhere.
After a brief rest back at headquarters, checking laptops, our own bladders and that of Winslow the puppy, we agreed that our exhausting morning schedule had encouraged another round of hunger in our poor deprived bellies. So, it was off to burgers at a joint where local street names are used to label their beefy sandwiches. I rounded out my protein needs with bacon, cheddar cheese, and a fried egg atop mine. This supplied me with the energy needed to walk the three blocks, replete with constant camera-ing of quirky this n' thats, to the Wright Square Cafe and chocolatier shoppe. While the girls perused the pre-packaged offerings, my attention was fully focused on the in-house handmade selection of truffles, many with real concentrated fruit puree. I contributed generously to the local economy here for stunning little jewels to be divided amongst us at a later date. You'll need a picture. Passionfruit, fig, port, tobacco, lemon. You name it. I selected it.
The drive to the river waterfront only served to further exhaust us. You simply can't imagine the expenditure of effort with five women trying to find an adequate parking spot for one car on a tourist-busy Saturday. We opted for a drop-off with promises to return bearing saltwater taffy and pralines for the driver. That worked quite well and energized all in the end. Those pralines were as buttery rich as a sweetly drenched pecan of the South ought to be. My chauffering cohort is a HUGE fan of Paula Deen (not really y'all!) so I bought her Ms. Deen's Savannah Marinade instead of pralines, thoughtful friend that I am. She'll thank me later, I'm sure. Much later.
Another doggie-check later, we found ourselves with pre-packed snacks in purses, sitting before a movie screen for a showing of the latest Jennifer Lopez movie. We giggled and crunched our way through a decidedly chick-flickish romantic comedy (is that redundant?) before heading out to the famous 'Parker's Market' for the popular fruit-infused lemonade. Well, that's what they wanted. I wanted to see the bathroom. Not to smoke though blowing air did figure largely in the picture. The Dyson Airblade superfast hand dryer was my reason for being. And, I picked up a nice but inexpensive bottle of sparkling rose wine.
It's after midnight now. My air mattress partner has done her part with the loud compact air compressor to ensure no one's coccyx touches the floor. Everyone but me and the college student sleep. The Internet connection has suddenly been lost. I've no earthly idea how to remedy that. Four 12-packs of La Croix pamplemousse mineral water are in the trunk of the car: my big score! A generous serving of pineapple-coconut sorbetto sits in my overtaxed stomach. We leave for Tennessee tomorrow morning. My thoughts are turning to home.
But my heart has been soothed by Savannah and eased by my Earth Divas. Y'all need to git you some of that. But get your own . . . I can't share everything.
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