Sunday morning and faster 'n a deacon taking up collection, we were loaded up and gone with the wind again.
|Stone Mountain Campground|
Still hungry, we left the restaurant to return after the Sunday-go-to-meeting lunch crowd dispersed and said a prayer that God would forgive the morons for tying up all those spaces. Besides, hawk-eye Cindy had spotted a sign just before we turned into Cracker Barrel that read, Antique Show & Sale. With the sister-misters away, we were not on a time schedule so to the show we went forgetting the fact we had just been to one of the largest craft shows ever. It's what we do.
Hesitant, because the name sounded like an estate sale or some other high faulutin' antique show, Cindy persisted we go anyway. Turns out, this little one horse town was hosting their annual fall fair of sorts...the sign, to me, was misleading as the sale consisted of vendors (just like me and Cindy) of handcrafted items and, you guessed it, junk.
Excited, Cindy pulled in and we began searching for a place to park with Bella in tow. Not exactly designed for bitches with hitches, Cindy maneuvered Bella down the dirt paths in search of a parking place. We found ourselves going down a one-way drive when a lady vendor stopped us to redirect us. She immediately recognized us as part of the Sisters on the Fly group, and we struck up a conversation right slap dab in the middle of traffic. She had read about the Sisters and indeed was considering becoming one herself. In true Sister form, she told us of a secret
We spent a good part of the day at the show, enjoying the smells of grilled onions and peppers in the air, and stumbling upon more sweet finds. Down to our last bit of change (literally, ha), we left the sale and headed back to Cracker Barrel with hopes that the clear-as-the-nose-on-your-face-RV-parking-only spots were empty. Hmmmm. Somebody clearly didn't get the memo...
We eased into an available space, parking right beside that white bitch without a hitch. Bimbo.
Hungry 'nough to eat a saddle blanket, we chowed down for the trip ahead. Back on the trail, we bid adieu to Georgia and hightailed it back to Charlotte where Cindy and Bella would stay the night at my house. Sad that this was our last event of the year, we dismissed that notion faster 'n a tomcat with his tail afire. Having survived (literally) a year's worth of Sisters' events as two greenhorns, suddenly we were ecstatic as we talked about our first trip of 2014, Saddle Up. We would be returning to the first location we ever visited, Clabough's Campground in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, as seasoned Sisters this time.
"Hey Thelma, I've been thinking about it. Let's me and you wear petticoats and ride the mechanical bull this year."
Said no one ever.