Busted -- Again

Saturday morning -- time to sleep in and relax. Not when you're having your house re-roofed. Newsflash, roofers work on Saturday and they start early. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed when I opened the door in my robe and bedhead, me or the nice hispanic roofer man. You know Bobbi's gonna be talking about this...

Instead of sleeping in we headed off to the Ol' Hickory House for a healthy low-fat, low cholesterol breakfast. As the waitresses' tshirts advertise, it's the place to put a little south in your mouth. I'll pause here to let you mull that over...



Back to breakfast. I had a little flashback to growing up in the rural south as I overheard two elderly gentlemen discussing the best place to get fried catfish on Friday night. My family isn't southern, but that was one tradition we embraced. Instead of the traditional Catholic family fish stick Friday, we went out for catfish. The lines were long, but when you finally got a table it was groaning with platters of fried catfish, cole slaw, sweet and dill pickles, and french fries. I bet we went 3 out of 4 Fridays.

The two old men referenced the Galaxy diner as a place to go, but I got news for them it's no where near as good as traveling about an hour south of Atlanta to a hole in the wall place hanging out over a bend in the river. I haven't been there in YEARS but those old guys sure reminded me of some good times with my family. I thought about making a road trip, but maybe it's better to just visit those memories.

The last time I actually tried to fulfill my catfish jones, I drug my unsuspecting coworkers out to a scary place that I haven't lived down yet. I'll certainly never forget seeing that waitress's boob resting right on the catfish she served yours truly. Left a nice little grease stain on her tshirt and a bad taste in my mouth. Yeah, let's stick with the more pleasant memories!