I was driving around Marietta last night looking for a bottle of White Zinfindel when I pulled into the "Sweet Spirit" parking lot.  Thats the second time I have mistaken that place for a liquor store. It's not. It's a Christian bookstore.  This time, at least, I didn't make it all the way into the store.

The burbs arn't so bad. Not eating at restaurants each night is the tricky part. I enjoy cooking and have prepared over 50 meals in the last two weeks, but I still find myself casing restraunts, even when I'm not even hungry. I feel very much like H.I. McDunnah did when he gave up robbing liquor stores.

I'm not drinking during the week either, which means no bars, though I keep trying to figure out excuses to go sit at them. Sit and NOT order a drink.  I think bellying up and ordering a Roy Rodgers might work once, but even that's not zone-friendly.  Damn Zone.  I even gave up cofee, though these slow work-at-home mornings beg for coffee. Really.  If a cat rubs against your leg you have to scratch behind its ears. When the sunlight hits porch on a slow Georgia morning, you have to sip on a cup of coffee.