Because Nothing Says “Atlanta” Like Chick-Fil-A

While searching for a place to eat lunch in Atlanta this afternoon, I asked Craig if Atlanta was known for any particular type of food (you know, like Chicago and pizza…or anything else). He immediately answered: “Chick-Fil-A.” Of course.


Also, nothing says “Atlanta” quite like a pseudo-magician pulling scarves out of your “sleeve” in front of a fountain downtown at Centennial Olympic Park:


And nothing says “Atlanta” like a trip to the Children’s Museum of Atlanta, which you got into for free with your reciprocal museum pass to The Magic House in St. Louis (but which you almost didn’t because you left your museum pass on the refrigerator in St. Louis). Lucky for us Craig isn’t phone-phobic, and a couple of phone calls later we were on our way. (FYI: It would have been so disappointing had we had to pay for it. The people were nice, but The Magic House puts it to shame.)


And finally, nothing says “Atlanta” like a pet goat. What? Okay, so we’re not in Atlanta anymore, but staying at the home of my best friend from high school and her family in the middle of Tennessee. And this goat (Royal) belongs to them. We’re having a lovely time.


We have 5.5 hours to go before officially clocking the first Dunham family vacation with no major “episodes.” It’s been a good one. We think we’re ready to return now.