Happy, Joyous

And packed.


I called it an early night, although I had said, yes to dancing, yes to hanging out, yes to more stuff, my heart was just not in it.

And I have to say.

Thank God.

I got back from a really big emotional night, walking in the rain, with no umbrella–which in the South, is not such a huge deal, at least it’s warm–but slightly chagrined as I had actually bought an umbrella earlier in the day (and of course as soon as I bought it, it stopped raining, oh well, I’ll have a new ‘brolly for the playa), and had a late dinner and took it easy.

I talked to a dear friend on the phone and found myself in tears.

It’s been quite the experience.

Overwhelming, moving, intense.

And I did not do it all and I did do a bit of self-flagellation for doing self-care.

Shouldn’t I be cramming 800 different things into my day and night, who needs sleep, or quiet time, or writing time, or any of that when there is spiritual intoxication to be had.

But the fact is, self, I do.

I need quiet time.

I needed to get off campus today and take a break from it all and I needed food.

Real food.

Not fried, processed, greasy, sugary, carnival food.

I swear there is not a piece of fruit to be bought in the mile radius of my hotel.

And the offerings around the Georgia Dome and the Centennial Convention Center did not help me out.

I searched the internet last night and found a few farmer’s markets and a couple that looked really promising that were close to the MARTA–the municipal train for Atlanta–and I took the half mile walk to the station and chose to take self-care with my food and prioritize that before anything else.

And lo and behold.

The damn thing was closed for the holiday.

Despite it being posted on the website that it was open.

I was frustrated and upset and was kicking myself, I should have just stayed put, sucked it up and gotten by with whatever I could get by on.

Then I asked myself what would a friend of mine do.

It just popped right into my head.


I opened the app on my phone, dropped the pin and was picked up in five minutes, which was nice since it was raining on me, and my parade.

The driver was awesome and as I explained what I was doing and where I had intended to go, he made a suggestion for me and we headed to Little Five Points.

It was perfection.

I felt like I was with my people.

My tattooed, slightly edgy, yes, you might call them Atlanta hipsters, and I relaxed and for the first time since I have been in Atlanta, I wasn’t the only girl around with tattoos.

The driver dropped me off at Aurora Coffee and I had a scrumptious cold brewed iced coffee and a local organic bottled fruit and vegetable smoothie and a banana.

I got right with the world and felt so much better.

I walked out and wandered around the neighborhood and discovered the Junkman’s Daughter.

A vintage store meets head shop meets rockabilly meets costume emporium.

I bought my umbrella, a pair of tights, a pair of earrings and a crinoline to wear underneath my black and white polka dot dress.

I was quite pleased.

Especially since the crinoline was such a steal.  Had I bought it in San Francisco, it would have been $50 at any of the stores on Haight.


It was ten.


Then I saw a atm for my bank and I was able to finally deposit the check I had been carrying around since Wednesday from my employers for my health insurance for the month of July and as I was taking out a few bucks in cash I had a feeling and looked over at what.

What am I looking at?

I suddenly saw it.

An organic market.

Just there.

Just hidden, set back from the street and not the first thing anyone might notice had they not been looking for it.


I went in and was so happy.

Organic, fresh, healthy, sustainable, tasty food, get in my belly.

I bought some raw almonds, a container of cut up papaya, three bananas, three apples, and some raw coconut.

I sat in the store at a little cafe area and had some almonds and a banana and decided I was ready to go back into the fray.

I, yes, went back to Aurora and bought another coffee, I mean, when was I going to have any better where I was headed and proceeded to order up another Uber.

I got back to the hotel, slipped into my crinoline, it looks fabulous underneath my polka dot dress, if I do say so, and then went out to grab some solid food.


I went back to Smoke Ring.

And was it packed.

Holy moly.

The secret was out.

But I was handily sat in the same section and my waitress remembered me and kept my ice tea glass full and made menu recommendations and treated me like a princess.

I over tipped and with a belly full of smoked chicken, brisket, corn on the cob and smoked and grilled brussels sprouts, I walked the mile back to the convention center.

And yes.

I was a tourist.

I bought a magnet.

I bought a couple of postcards and filled them out and dropped them in the mail.

I even bought a t-shirt.


Then, instead of trying to push and make things happened, I just took a walk.

I ran into a friend, who too was desperate for sustenance and I gave him an apple.

I don’t know that I have ever seen someone so happy for a piece of fruit.

I sat in the grass for a while and drank a bottle of sparkling water and got some sun on my face, the rain had stopped, and I gave myself the quiet I needed before heading in with all the other folks from all the other places all over the world and got my gratitude on.

And now.


it’s just about done.

It’s a quarter of three in the morning and I have to get up in an hour.

Part of me thinks I should just head to the air port now.

But I think it better to at least get a few zzz’s under my belt.

Grateful for this experience.

Grateful to not beat myself up.

Grateful I let myself take care of myself.

I am a better person for the experience.

When I take care of myself.

I can be of better service to another.

And that.


Is how to be.




Let alone packed and ready to head home.

See you soon.

In a foggy city on the other side of the country.

Thank you Atlanta for all your gifts.

Big hugs.

I’ll see y’all in five years.


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