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Then, a friend e-mailed me that lululemon athletica—a yoga-inspired athletic apparel company—will be opening a store here. Their clothes are so cute, you will want to work out simply to show them off.

Now, it appears that H&M is finally on its way to Atlanta. Having just hit the H&M in San Francisco’s Union Square (and scoring a very nice dress at a fraction of what I’d expect to pay at a regular retailer), I can truthfully say that my retail dreams will be fulfilled by this trifecta of shopping splendor.

I swear…I’m not your typical “shop til you drop” kind of girl. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. But I appreciate a good retail experience when I see it. Now we’ll have Apple Stores, an IKEA, and an H&M. What other retail stores have you anxiously awaiting their arrival?

For more info, visit www.mcphersonredevelopment.com or call 404-614-8318. I’m really interested to see how it all shakes out.

DL, I’m so proud of you. Big hugs all around.

After a rundown of great burgers across our nation, and acknowledging readers’ likely anticipation of the Los Angeles picks, columnist Raymond Sokolov writes, “Nevertheless I think the best burgers in America are three time zones away…in Atlanta.”

He then proceeds to list the three best burgers in the U.S. as those found at the Vortex, the EARL, and—in the number one spot—at Ann’s Snack Bar. “This,” he writes of Miss Ann’s “Ghettoburger,” “is the next level in burgerhood.”

This is making me hungry. And I’ve kind of been craving a good burger lately. I have to admit I had not heard of Ann’s Snack Bar until reading this.

What do y’all think of his picks?

You can read the article here without logging into WSJ for the next seven days.

My argument was that it really shouldn’t matter where you rest your head…what matters is where you like to live…where you like to spend your free time and where you feel most at home. I have chosen to claim ITP status since that’s where I feel like my life happens. I would much rather have the street parking and undeniable diversity of intown life than the three-car garages and SuperTargets of the burbs.

I once lived in Dunwoody for five years, and I loved it. I didn’t mind the commute intown and found myself spending most of my leisure time up 400 anyway. But after getting a taste of living intown, I knew that ITP was the only way for me.

Well, it’s a moot point for me now, as a I recently closed on a new loft in Cabbagetown. Yippee! I can’t wait to see graffiti every day and watch the skyline twinkle at night.

This is not a post to argue ITP vs. OTP. It’s such a subjective thing, like saying driving blue cars is better than driving silver ones. It’s merely some giddy ramblings by a girl who feels like she’s finally found her way home.

From AJC.com:

Ralph the whale shark stopped swimming early Thursday afternoon. Eight hours later, as veterinarians worked over the 22-foot-long fish, he abruptly died. Aquarium officials said they don’t know why.

I hope you enjoyed your time with us as much as we enjoyed you, Ralph. You will be missed.

Have you seen the “Keep Delta My Delta” site? It’s an interesting campaign that includes a petition, which I’m willing to sign but am not sure it will do much to help.

I don’t know why I feel so fiercely loyal to Delta, but I do. Maybe it ties into the whole I’m from Atlanta thing I posted about recently.

It will be interesting to see how it all shakes out, for sure. Meanwhile, I’m plotting my next SkyMiles-paid getaway….

I guess I am, indeed, from Atlanta.

I met countless folks who asked where I was from, and I always answered, without hesitation, “Atlanta.” When asked that question here in the South, I always answer “nowhere”—an homage to my nomadic childhood as an Army brat. I lived in places from Germany to El Paso before landing here in 1990. Although 2007 marks my 17th year in Atlanta, it wasn’t my tenure here that made me realize that I guess I really am from Atlanta now…it was the feeling, for once, that Atlanta really is my home now.

I giggled when a Canadian waiter recounted stories of visiting “the Buckhead” and Lake Lanier, and when the San Francisco couple struggled to remember the name of the town they stayed in while visiting “Hotlanta.” I felt a sense of kinship with neighbors from Kentucky and Tennessee I met on the slopes, recognizing them by their accents and declaring “I’m from Atlanta.” And most of all, I actually felt comforted when I heard that familiar Georgian accent—not quite a drawl, and not that awful Southern accent they try to portray in movies—come over the intercom from the Atlanta-based flight crew on my way home.

Sure, I have my complaints about Atlanta (that’s another post for another time). But I must admit, it’s good to be home.