Savannah and women with nuts

We hopped up to Savannah to visit my daughter Nicole and her fiance Jonathan for the weekend. The ladies had some wedding stuff to take care of and I had some college football to watch. Purdue is so bad this year that I may have taken a nap during the game, but it was hard to tell. Friday we hit up the Schnitzel Shack because nothing says good food like a combined German and Thai menu. No really. I can get my Massaman Curry and Sauerkraut and Spaetzle at the same time. Supposedly the sauerbraten and schnitzel are very good but I opted out of cooked animals. I also opted not to get Eine grosses Boot full of beer this time and instead got the glass slipper of Octoberfest.

We signed up for a ghost tour, thinking this could be a good time as it included a pub crawl. I wish nap time lasted a bit longer in the afternoon because I was pretty beat by the time the creepy slurring words guy started rambling about ghosts in the city. The cool part of the trip was getting into some of these pubs in the old buildings that we never would have otherwise been in. Piano bars aren't our style, but we popped into a nice one in the basement of an old building that had some relics of the past in glass cases on the wall. Pretty cool. The best part was the biker group we were with. They were pretty funny, and pretty hammered. Deb got befriended by a woman who had some, what looked like chestnuts in each hand that she said she got from an Indian Shaman. She needed them to ward off the ghosts. One was male and the other female; right and left. She was creepy serious. She also mentioned that she had an out of body experience, because she had died. The woman told us she didn't like the experience, and that's why she went to a Shaman in Charleston, to get her nuts. She was also enjoying Debra's company. At one point the kids and I noticed the Ohio State game projected on the wall of a building next to the pub we stopped at. When we looked back for Deb, she was being entertained by the "nuts in hands" woman and the slurring storyteller on the tour. Debra made pleading eye contact with us, but we went back to the game. No way was I interrupting that conversation.

Not a bad time, but for the price they charge for these tours they could be more entertaining. We could have used some dramatic story telling about creepy ghost happenings around town. Real or imagined. The art student who gave the tour kept mixing up his L's and R's, and was always reminding us he didn't drink. OK, but then why the slur? He said he was a violent drunk and got in many fights, so he avoids alcohol. Being a rather smallish mouthy art student, I figure he got punched in the face quite a few times which would explain the Muhammad Ali like storytelling at times. I didn't want to take a picture of the nut lady, because she might not appear in the photo, or would appear to be someone completely different, or dead.

As it stands now, we are trapped in Pooler Georgia with a very dead Saturn Vue. Nothing happens when we turn it over and I suspect the starter coil/solenoid is burned up. When Deb tried to start it I saw a puff of smoke from under the hood. Puffs of smoke are not good unless they come from the tailpipe, so I will crawl under the thing right after I've had a few more cups of tea. It's starting to look like a AAA day. If Deb would just carry a couple nuts in her hands none of this would have happened.

Cheers!
P