Three and a half hours' worth of meandering south and east on the back roads will bring you to a highway, which leads to a smaller road, which leads to a gravel road. Even if you turn off onto the gravel road, you might miss the driveway that appears to lead to nothing but a copse of trees.

Like many of the good things in life, there are no signs pointing to it that say "This is where you need to be." Just a mailbox and a fence for the horses.

Atlanta. Three-point-five hours of driving to get to the geek farm, where newborn goats were cuddled and cooed over, and dragon*con staff meeting was attended.

It rained. Of course.
I managed to get lost in Atlanta. Of course.

As I crossed the state line I realized I'd missed the grand turning-out of the lights, the unknown but somehow pre-determined moment when all of the good citizens of Alabama realize it's time to go to bed, and turn out all the lights. There hadn't been many lights in Tennessee, but in comparison, Alabama was utterly dark. I took the state line exit onto the back roads, and did not see another car (or an open gas station) for the rest of the drive.

We're back from our weeklong sojourn to the East Coast. After the drive (must remember to tell everyone about the Land That Time Forgot in Tennessee that we found) our brains are pretty much the consistency of...well...oatmeal.

But I got to play in the snow. Most snow I've ever seen in my life. For a lifelong southerner, this makes many things worthwhile.

Photos and coherency soon.

The plan: drive from Huntsville to Atlanta. Obtain Gareth, whose current sojourn in the States has not yet produced the need for a rental car. Drive Gareth back to Huntsville, so that he can have some face time with the locals over a three-day weekend.

Message window, Gareth, yesterday afternoon: "Greg has proposed I-20 exit 51a at 7:30pm EST - there's a McDonald's there apparently."