Aimless wanderings...

Today, after a visit to the Dekalb International Farmers; Market (which was nice, but not nearly so cool as Baltimore's (Give it up for Charm City!) Lexington market), we went in search of Cabbagetown, an old millworkers' neighborhood we couldn't afford to live in...


Thanks to our incredibly bad guidebook on the ATL, we had no real idea where to go. So I called the Cyclorama, and asked (nicely) how to get to Grant Park (where the 'Rama lives) and then, as if it were an afterthought, I begged, "And by the way, do you happen to know where Cabbagetown is?"


But between the guy's heavy accent (Not Southern. Maybe Pakistani?) And the fact that he couldn't remember the name of the street I needed to turn on... we got a little lost.


And at some point in all of this, my husband got a little miffed. He stated that "It's more find to find things when you know where they are."


I was feeling a little defensive, about to launch into a Laurel-style "You just aren't open to adventures" load-o-crap...


When we turned by accident onto Auburn, the street where MLK grew up, which is restored, llovely, and full of historical info. It was great!


And we never found cabbagetown... but THAT is why it's sometimes useful not to know where you're going.