As we zeroed in on our ultimate destination for the night -- the cabin described as being in Blairsville, but really out in a rural area near several towns including Blue Ridge -- we took the advice of the cabin owners (Don's cousins) and stopped in the latter town planning to quickly grab some groceries.
Blue Ridge, Georgia
Though I didn't know at the time that Blue Ridge was once an elite health resort famed for its regional mineral springs, I can tell you, surprise, surprise, that when we pulled into the downtown area, Marlene wasn't thinking groceries. Not yet anyway. Clearly this was a very cool town and the first thing that caught my eye was the train track splitting through the downtown area. Now a tourist railway, the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway pays tribute to the fact that the Marietta and North Georgia Railroad put this town on the map in 1886.
We parked on one side of the track by some quaint looking specialty and antique shops and now glancing across the railway, past the now-closed depot visitor center -- the second depot in this town, built in 1906 after the first one burned -- I noticed an impressive Victorian-inspired structure housing a restaurant. By the way you'll never guess its name: Yep. Victorian House Restaurant! http://www.victorian-house-restaurant.com/
"Where are you going?" Don asked as if he didn't know.
Truthfully we had actually stopped at this specific location because I was hoping to check my email and there was a wood deck attached to the depot that advertised free Wi-Fi. Once I did eventually settle onto one of the picnic tables at that location with my computer, I would be unsuccessful logging in, but by then we had already had our own private tour of the Blue Ridge Inn.
As we entered the lobby area, glancing toward the dining areas, we were intrigued by a variety of vintage hats displayed throughout. The lady of the hotel explained that she had put a few hats up on display and soon others began arriving. Apparently the multiplication factor was borne out of community donations. Better to have Grandma Bertha's hat proudly out on display than in the back of some dusty closet. 
Vintage hats
We asked if we might see a room for future reference and so a call was made and within minutes an older gentleman arrived on scene to show us two historic rooms located in a back house on the property, the only two not yet booked for the evening. They were spacious, comfortably furnished, and the price of $90 some dollars seemed quite reasonable considering it was summer in a touristy town. http://www.blueridgeinnbandb.com/rooms.htm
Checking out a room
As we chatted, we realized this fellow, Milt Darden (he called himself "Uncle Milty") was actually an owner and that the woman we had met previously was his stepdaughter. He said he had retired once, and came out of retirement when his stepdaughter encouraged the idea of developing a centerpiece inn downtown anchored by this Victorian-looking front building, the one that had drawn my attention at first. It turned out to be a new structure made to look old, as opposed to the Bed and Breakfast structure located behind it, one block off Main Street which was truly historic.
Though the tourist business was apparently proving to be less than expected this summer season, the owner indicated that Blue Ridge, promoted as the Gateway to the Blue Ridge Mountains, was holding its own. But he did say something that prompted us to add onto our shopping list for that evening. Turns out that Blue Ridge is located in Fannin County, a dry county, and he was lamenting the unfairness that a person could buy a bottle of wine in the grocery store and sit and home and drink (and probably in the hotel room), but that fine dining restaurants were not allowed to serve.
Hmmm. Did seem a bit unfair to me, as if being dry keeps people from drinking. And why could you buy it in a store and not a restaurant where drinking tends to be less of a problem than on some dusty back road? I could certainly see his frustration in that regard and the obvious financial impact it could have on his restaurant revenue since alcohol charges are often more than the meal itself. Don and I had empathy for him in that regard, but as for the hotel itself, if we hadn't already had our own accommodations, we would have certainly snatched up one of the remaining rooms.
And speaking of our accommodations, after picking up a brochure left outside the depot regarding the tourist train, and cruising through more of the town (where we encountered an old drive-in theatre which we would have been tempted to patronize if it wasn't that we had already seen the new Indiana Jones offering, and Don wasn't too sold on the idea of an athletic Panda movie), 
we headed to the outskirts of town to the Ingles grocery store that Milt had told us about. (By the way, I had been seeing these stores in Georgia, but had been pronouncing it as the Spanish word with the same spelling that means "English." Now I learned that the store is actually pronounced "Ingalls".) http://www.ingles-markets.com/
By now, I didn't care how it was pronounced. I just wanted some food!
We made sure a bottle of wine jumped into our cart complementing a small assortment of other grocery items, including chips and salsa and a piece of wild salmon already enclosed in a self-baking packet. I hadn't seen that before and the idea of no-muss, no-fuss salmon sounded like a good healthy, low-calorie meal.
At the check-out, the clerks who looked to be about 15 years old asked 55-year-old Don to show his ID to buy the wine. I thought that was quite funny and the clerks admitted that visitors are always a little taken-aback by that request, but that they have to do so no matter how silly that request might seem (probably because of the county's dry status). I told them that I would guess most people would overlook the nuisance just for the laugh, and in some cases possible flattery, depending on the person's age and state in life. But as I said earlier, unfortunately for us, we could only categorize it as "funny."
Guess you can't be a young 'un forever!
After following detailed directions, 
we found our new home for the next couple of nights, unpacked our newly-purchased food, and ended the evening sitting out on the back porch on rocking chairs, nibbling on chips and salsa and looking through pines to watch to sunset behind a distant hill. 
Not such a bad ending to a long day of driving! We'd come a long way from the National Peanut Museum!
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