WHEN IN SAVANNAH: Sure, walk through some dead Confederate park. Think about Paula Deen’s buttery loins. Watch the partying knuckleheads break ankles on cobblestone death traps. Dodge ghosts. Eat at painfully cute eateries. Avoid facefulls of Spanish moss…
But for the love of all things Georgia, DO NOT PASS UP a visit to Peddler Jim’s.
All the other antique stores we hit were bullshit. Old codgers perfumed with popourri and cheap import country clutter. Peddler Jim has the goods. Piles of this. Piles of that. And, stories for each item you pick up. The way it oughta be. Get yer asses in there and buy a pile of plunder from Peddler Jim. Good, solid junkin’ in Savannah.
Leigh dragged my girth all over Savannah today. Through rainstorm and sunshine. All day. We threw the towel in at dusk, and Adam picked us up, transporting us back to our cozy confines. We rested up and rolled the dice on the Pirate’s Inn. Why not, right?
