Chirstmas or August? Christmas in August!

IT'S  CHRISTMAS!

No, it's not IT'S AUGUST!  

When we left on July 25th, I didn't realize we'd come back in August.  That was a mental shake-up.  We left Tybee Island, Georgia, to visit The Christmas Place in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.  We'd been there before with others on vacation, if we went again we had been given a request for lemon fudge, and we gladly used that as a reason to revisit. 

The Christmas Place is made up of at least 3 buildings.  One's Santa's Haus, if Santa's not availabe for whispers and wishes, he had to make a quick trip to the North Pole.  Another is Mrs. Claus Candy Kitchen and Sweet Shop where the fudge is creamy, the chocolates are sweet, and the decorations are full and lush and change yearly.  And, finally, the main building comprised of many departments is where it's at -- designer designs, 50's retro, and gnomes for Christmas.  

First room Rustic Pet, then the Nutcracker suites, Red Pick-up Truck corner, Black, Not Red, Plaid this year, Fluffy White & Feathers section, the rooms of Personalized Ornaments, and the forever staples of villages, lights, trees, and stocking stuffers.

Ian was lost.  Ian called John, "Where are you?"  

John answered, Ian wasn't enlightened, "Describe your surroundings."

Behind me I heard John answer.  He was staring at a 10 foot tall evergreen tree reflecting his face in 12 inch large shiny blue and silver orbs when he said, "Christmas.  Everywhere Christmas!"

LOL, how like a left-brain thinker.  I took the phone, "Ian it'd be best if you tell us by which door you're standing."

We found him in seconds.  He stood at the double wooden doors in a midst of Jack Frost's Winter Woodland Designs.  A glazed look, a turning body, "gave me to know he had nothing to dread" with his lit-up smile, "There you are". 

Before The Christmas Place, we'd spent the night at Black Bear Inn & Suites, Ian's choice.  So nice to have someone else settle decisions.  

And we'd ate at Crockett's Breakfast Camp.  Large wooden plank tables and benches of oak, walls of black skillets, hooks, and wrought iron tri-pods made up our seating area.  Back near the restrooms were blocked off walls like an entrance to a mine, a dirty white faux canvas tent, and many artifacts of the time anvil, antlers, yokes, horseshoes, and galvanized sinks.

The menu looked like a morning newspaper, inside headings made you laugh, "Hen Fruit (eggs)".

We'd made camp, now we're breaking camp.  Onward, ho.  This time it's to home we go.