I didn’t know where I was going. If anything, I was determined to get myself lost so I could get better at knowing where I was. I thought the more often I tried to get myself lost, the less often I would feel lost.

The onslaught of pumpkin spice stirs an irrational irritation not because I dislike Pumpkin Spice Lattes™, but because its debut reminds me that consistent Fall weather is at least 2 months away.

And if there is one thing that every Christian knows, it’s that Halloween is a demonic holiday created by Paganists and Satanists in order to put razor blades and poison into the hands of our children. You think my parents would let us go trick or treating door-to-door while the devil was out roaming the streets?

Some might say that I’m a perfectionist. Others might say that I’ll just never be happy no matter what. Personally, I prefer the term, “perpetual furniture mover.” I come from a long line of “perpetual furniture movers.” You’d come downstairs one Saturday, and the entire living room would be different – now the chair is in the corner, the couch is against the wall, the lamp is…is it in the same spot or a different spot? You can never be sure. Wasn’t everything fine the way it was?

It should go as no surprise that I had to get rid of a lot of stuff in order to make this move possible. I was moving from a house in Atlanta to an apartment in Manhattan. I would be trading in a porch for a fire escape, a driveway for a stoop.

“Does it feel real yet?” “I think so?” I scanned my much emptier home. One stack of boxes sat in the furthest corner, the other behind me. I had been in this house for seven years now, which in the time of typical early-to-mid-20’s apartment hopping felt like a lifetime.

A non-comprehensive list of some of my favorite restaurants in Atlanta for dates, solo dining, and everything in between. Different types of cuisines at every price point.

Some of my favorite restaurants along Buford Highway, Doraville, and Duluth. Because discretion doesn’t mean that we can’t still enjoy a meal together.

Maybe I had been putting it off. I grew up at Turner Field. Truist is bigger, nicer, cleaner. Like the Braves had a string of good luck and moved to the “good” part of town.

As a hoochie with a coochie living way down yonder on the Chattahoochee, I gotta say Alan Jackson’s description of a Georgia summer is spot on.