Ghost Ride

After a somewhat late start this morning (or, I should say, afternoon) we finally loaded up the bicycles and set off for the historic district. Today's photo is of the entrance of Colonial Cemetary. If there's anyplace I love to ride, it's in a good cemetary. And Savannah's is particularly spooky this time of year, with the moss looking like wispy gray ghosts caught in the trees.

The weather is perfect for riding, in the low seventies. It is so damp around these parts that my hair, normally the straightest hair in the universe, is actually beginning to show faint signs of an actual curl here and there. Although...it could have become bewitched in the grave yard I suppose.


We rode all afternoon, until nearly dark, and then headed to the riverfront for some dinner and shopping. Satan bought a pashmina (sp?) for me from a pretty indian girl in the market. I'm not sure about that spelling, but what it amounts to is an incredibly soft scarf so large that it can be worn as a shawl. Mine is a shade of burgundy that is nearly purple and made (supposedly) in Nepal from baby lamb's wool. Which, of course, technically means that there is at least one if not more naked baby lambs out there potentially shivering in the cold who have sacrificed their incredibly soft coat so that I might have a soft scarf to snuggle in. It's enough to make one feel a little guilty.

But not THAT guilty.

Anyway, then it was on to more shops where Satan browsed for a birthday gift for himself (the big day is January 1st). Not too surprisingly, we ended up in a hat shop where, among other lids, he even tried a pork pie:

Which, damn if he doesn't almost pull the thing off, eh?

Well, yah, almost.

After that I tried to coax him into a few other far out styles and poses, whereupon he had the NERVE to accuse me (loudly to all in the vicinity) of planning to post said potential pictures IN MY BLOG on the INTERNET.

I mean...As IF. Sheesh! I gathered my baby lamb Nepalese pashmina around myself and huffed right on out of the store on THAT one, let me tell you.

Then, it was on to a Greek (don't ask) restaurant for dinner which turned out to be a TAD overpriced. After that, we made a final stop in order to make our traditional annual selection of a nice bottle of champagne which we will enjoy tomorrow.

Ah...tomorrow. Can 2006 really be over?

And, finally, I just wish to God they'd finally bury poor Gerald Ford and James Brown, already. It's time.