This weekend I met up with my brother, my parents, my uncle and my cousin to celebrate my mother's 60th birthday. We had a very vigorous plan in effect for the weeekend: sleep; eat; drink; walk around aimlessly; repeat. I would like to tell everyone that I learned something about Savannah's history, but alas, I cannot. We had four different tour guides through our jump on-jump off city tour, and after careful consideration, we determined that at least two were drunk, and one may or may not have given good information but we couldn't tell over the ear-piercing static. Or maybe we were a little too busy just being our regular ridiculous selves to hear anything over the static. Savannah was supposed to be a warm oasis compared to Columbus, but the truth is, it was pretty cold down there. But there were little reminders that we were in the south, such as the accent, and the hurricane warnings. Anyone else scared of the fact that the catagory 5 hurricane storm surge comes to above the second floor of the building in the background? Good thing we are just out of hurricane season. Alpaca, though, it seems, is season. My alpace may of alpace finally made it down to my brother, and it seems to want to learn to drive. I hope he enjoys the warmer climes, but for now, it is time for me to settle into the cold and dreary months. Hopefully, I'll have someone to keep me warm!
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