Yet Another Journal

Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.


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» Saturday, May 05, 2007
There and Back Again
We set out for Warner Robins this morning, since James' mom is working on Mother's Day. We stopped at Jonesboro on the way down to hit their Books-a-Million, a Hallmark store, and the flea market. The latter has several stalls selling supposedly pedigreed puppies and one that sells all sorts of birds. The puppies seem well cared for, but it's hard to tell if they are from puppy mills. James was particularly taken with a little schnauzer, but I liked the black Pom myself. The Jack Russells were all innocent-faced, like the ones on calendars.

It makes me sad. Being a pet animal is such a crapshoot, whether you're from a "mill" or not. You could end up with a loving family or with rotters. Of course life's no better for the wild ones. Life, in the end, is like that.

So we had a nice visit and Nicki liked her towels: she is moving to Colorado at the end of the month and we had some new towels that we never used. We were supposed to take James' mom out for lunch, and we did get the lunch menu, but by the time we actually got served it turned out to be supper. I've never seen a Longhorn with service so slow. James suspected some employees didn't show up for their shift because the waitress said they had been "slammed" all afternoon, but it didn't look anywhere as busy as the Longhorn on the East-West connector gets and the service is never that slow. But everything was delicious and we had a nice lunch. (While we were waiting, we had half an eye on the television, which was showing Fellowship of the Ring and Bilbo's elevendy-first birthday party...hence the title of this post.)

It had been quite nice when we left Atlanta; a little overcast and cool, perfect for driving. In fact it was so cool that most of the way we had to have the car windows up. But we had a thunderstorm while in Robins and when we left it was smothery and oppressive—until we reached a point between Gray and Forsyth, when it was as if a giant hand swept the humidity away.

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