HELEN A HANDBASKET, ONCE AGAIN

This afternoon, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I will head up to the little faux-kitschy mountain town of Helen, Georgia, for the Fall Classic - the Yellin’ in Helen - the Southeast Writers’ Conference, Tea Party and Ice Cream Social - the Blown-Eyed Blodgemeet - whatever the hell you want to call it.

I’ll be picking Dash and Lisa up at the Hartfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport with the Honkin’ Long Name, after which we’ll gather up SWMBO and make the trek up into the hills. We may even get to wave at Dax as we drive by.

Update: Slight change in plans. Lisa’s connection from Halifax (!) to Toronto got biffed because of the ubiquitous Maritime Fog, so she’ll be arriving on a later flight that will get her to Atlanta at 4:00 - just in time for the Friday-Peeyem Traffic Clusterfuck. Since Leslie - the Omnibus Driver - will be coming in a little beforehand, we’ve arranged it so that Leslie will rent a car and drive with Lisa up to Helen.

Before embarking on a major trip, it’s generally good policy to make a checklist, so as not to forget Important Provisions ’n’ Such. Lessee:

• Zombie-proof undershorts. Check.
  
• Semi-Official “Talk Dirndl To Me” leisurewear. Check.
  
• Camera, for documenting the occasional indiscretion all the fun. Check.
  
• Cell phone and charger. Check.
  
• Vat of Chatham Artillery Punch. Check.
  
• Hats: Red Cowboy for SWMBO, Panama for me. Check.
  
• Bail money. Check.
  
• Miscellaneous gew-gaws, gimcracks, doo-dads, and fuckmonkeys. Check.

See you on the other side, Esteemed Readers. This should be a gas!