Old Man River and The Fountain Motel

Mr. Sweetheart ended up getting an extra day off of work, mid vacation, so we decided to take a leisurely route home, stopping anywhere that looked interesting. We were very shortly enticed to drive five miles down a winding back road in Lucedale, Mississippi to tour Palestine Gardens, a miniature replica of the Holy Land set in the beautiful piney woods. This place was my childhood dream come true with tiny buildings tucked into shady corners all along a winding walk near pretty ponds and a towering bamboo thicket. An older gentleman who lives there in an RV appeared shortly after we drove up. He said he was really too busy to give a guided tour, but invited us to walk around the garden and visit the gift shop which contained mostly homemade plastic canvas crafts and religious tracts, plus a large box turtle that followed us around the tiny store, its shell scraping across the cool cement floor. Should you find something you wanted, you were trusted to leave the money for it in a donation box. If you ever find yourself in the Lucedale area, I highly recommend a stop.

We crossed the state of Mississippi along mostly empty Highway 84 until we reached historic Natchez, on the banks of the Mississippi, where we spent the night. I amused Mr. Sweetheart by reciting every nickname for the river I could think of each time we crossed it or came near it on the trip, ala Clark Griswold. "Old Man River, Big Muddy, The Mighty Mississip...." It never stopped being funny. Here is a picture of kudzu, the plant that ate the South, growing in full force on the banks of Old Blue.


Natchez is home to several antebellum homes, a few of which we saw from the outside. We also had some delicious barbecue at a place called The Pig Out Inn. Unfortunately, because the stop was unplanned and unresearched, as we prefer flying by the seat of our pants on road trips, we missed Mammy's Cupboard. I think Natchez and the surrounding area is worthy of a future road trip of its own, though.



As we crossed The Great River into Louisiana, we stopped in Ferriday, home of Jerry Lee Lewis and others, at the Delta Music Museum, which was, sadly, closed. We did take a picture of the slab of fame out front, though.


As we drove north up Highway 65, we were amused by tiny town names such as Waterproof (somehow a water tower emblazoned with that word struck me as hilarious) and Transylvania, Louisiana, whose water tower depicts its name in a scary font over a black bat.
We continued across the farmland of southeastern Arkansas, where Mr. Sweetheart decided more CCR was in order. We were headed to Hot Springs, where I had never been but have always wanted to see. Mr. Sweetheart played a gig there once and wanted to take me there. We have some old friends who live there now, but we rolled into town much too late to take Sugar Pea out to meet anyone new, and we were coming up against the deadline to make it home, so we'll have to visit them another time. We stayed at the rundown Fountain Motel, not recommended, but a cool little place that must have been something to see in its heyday.

I found this postcard circa 1964 for sale on eBay. There are two rooms in each little streamlined deco building, still with the original tiled bathrooms which haven't been scrubbed since this postcard was made, I believe. Seriously, we wore flip flops in the shower. The design of the buildings and some of the hardware inside led me to believe it must date from the 1930's, but I can't be sure as I am unable to find any history of the place anywhere on the internet. I fantasized about someday buying a place like this and thoroughly restoring it to its former glory, decking out each room in vintage style. Then I could charge big bucks to rent out rooms to hipsters the way Kate Pierson of the B52s has done with her fabulous Lazy Meadow Motel in the Catskills.


At one time The Fountain Cafe was attached, but the building is now vacant. Here is my pathetic attempt at nighttime neon photography without the necessary tripod.

Across the street was the El Rancho, which was for sale. If only I was el richo.


Next door was the Capri.


Don't laugh. I think the blurriness makes it seem very artistic, as if I meant to do it, don't you? I'm kidding. I did want to capture the colors of the neon, though, despite my limited photography skills.

Beautiful downtown Hot Springs is full of Victorian bathhouses and classic hotels that sprung up to take advantage of the 147 degree thermal water that flows naturally from underground.


Lest you think it's all quaintness and class, we paid to take one of those cheesy duck boat tours, which I would never have done had I found this before just now. Holy crap. My paranoid mind imagined this very scenario as I clutched the sleeping Sugar Pea tightly and wondered how one would ever grab the life jackets above our heads in time, especially with three babies aboard. Guess that was my first and last duck boat ride.
Okay, shaking that off and moving right along, the duck tour tickets were a package deal that also gained us entry to a rundown wax museum, where we saw these two vignettes in the Chamber of Horrors.

Here are some poorly done, over lit likenesses of Hot Springs' favorite native son and his missus, the Clintons.

Tawdry Marie Antoinette is about to have a wardrobe malfunction while a lecherous bewigged gentleman looks on.


Here are the likenesses of my ancestors Orville and Wilbur Wright.


Mmmm. Waxy Popey goodness.

The King.


Are you ready to enter the world of make believe? Step right this way.


Also known as "The World of Ladies' Rooms That Haven't Been Updated Since the 1960s". I love this wallpaper and the vintage Kotex dispenser (only 10 cents!). You should have seen the look on Mr. Sweetheart's face when I told him I wanted to take a picture of an old maxi pad dispenser. A look that was somewhere between,"that's my quirky but infinitely charming wife" and pity.


The Red King and Queen from Alice in Wonderland were by far creepier than anything in the Chamber of Horrors.


This bear might possibly have drained my living essence as I stared into its hypnotic eyes.

Either that or I'm worn out from vacation. Not sure which.

Down in Louisiana Just About a Mile From Floribama

We left Hugo, continuing on through Texas and Arkansas as I repeatedly sang, "It was down in Louisiana, just about a mile from Texarkana, in them ol' cotton fields back home." I then insisted we listen to nothing but Creedence on the ipod as we crossed the great state of Louisiana. How can a band from California sound so dang Suthern and swampy? I met no resistance from Mr. Sweetheart, as we own literally every song CCR has ever recorded. Later I amused him by coming up with country songs appropriate to the cities on or near our route, belting out "Jackson" with my best June Carter Cash impersonation, and "The Mississippi Squirrel Revival", by Ray Stevens for the opportunity to shout out "PASCAGOULA!"
After a night spent in Shreveport, where our little car was very nearly smashed between two semi trucks (very scary), we headed across Mississippi and Alabama, taking small highways. We stopped a gas station/liquor store/pawn shop in nowheresville called "Snuffy Smif's", a hillbilly themed establishment, which was, ironically, owned and patronized by actual hillbillies. While waiting in line to ask for the outhouse key, I had an epiphany when I realized that those little fake roses in glass tubes that you see for sale at registers of convenience stores are crack pipes, Dollfaces. I had always wondered, did people buy these things as last minute Mother's Day gifts? What was the point? After hearing a meth head repeatedly ask for,"three roses and three Bics" in a shaky voice as she bought a fifth of Old Rose whisky and asked if anyone had tried to sell her mama's stolen freshwater pearls there, it finally became clear to me. Now I know where the glass tubes that fall out of people's pockets on COPS come from, as well. Two mysteries solved.
We finally arrived safe and sound at Mr. Sweetheart's mama's house, where we had a great visit that included lots of tasty deep fried things from the sea, key lime pie, lots of grits, eggs and Community Coffee (my new favorite) and tons of other yummy stuff to eat. Oh, we did other things too, but mostly we ate.
Here is Sugar Pea on her first day at the beach. She was not amused when I held her near the surf and a large wave sent shockingly cold water up to her thighs. She spent the rest of the day rubbing sand in her eyes and fussing. Poor baby. I'm not sure The Sweethearts are beach material. We're fair-skinned, chubby and generally rather delicate.


Another day my brother-in-law came with us to see a bog full of rare, carnivorous pitcher plants surrounded by a wooden walkway that encircled hundreds of them and continued back through beautiful deep woods full of native ferns to a pretty bay. Unfortunately, my camera's battery died right after I snapped this photo, so there are no pictures of the rest. Poor you.


After the bog, we walked around picturesque Fairhope, Alabama, a town so pretty it looks like a movie set. This picture is from the city's website, since my camera was still dead.


Later, we visited a place with a lot of history called Pirate's Cove, which was like a Jimmy Buffett song come to life--about the opposite of our idea of a good time, but a very neat place, nonetheless. There I had one of the best cheeseburgers and onion rings I think I have ever eaten, and yes, it was like eating a cheeseburger in paradise. Again with the food. Later we brought Sugar Pea here for her first swimming session because the water was shallow, warm and calm, and she had the time of her life splashing around with one of the many dogs people bring there to swim and play.


The next day we all went to Pensacola Beach, Florida, which had the prettiest white sand and blue green water, not to mention a cool water tower painted to look like a beach ball. It was a red flag day with high winds, so we could only wade a few feet into the strong waves for fear of being sucked out in a riptide. Mr. Sweetheart and I were diligent about our SPF 50 throughout the whole trip, but somehow neglected to protect our feet and legs this day. Smooth move, Lobster Legs McGee.


We paid a buck a piece just to walk out on this pier, but it was incredibly exciting for us landlocked Okies to get that far out on the water. We continued down Santa Rosa Island to a section of wild, empty beach that was so beautiful and was littered with good shells that hadn't been picked over.


The next day we returned to Pensacola to walk through historic St. Michael's Cemetery. What, you think it's weird to visit not one but two graveyards on a vacation? One more and I'd need to buy a tube of black lipstick.


I hope someone thinks I kicked enough ass to require an exclamation point when I shake off this mortal coil.

I think Mr. Sullivan must've realized he couldn't take it with him a little too late, when there was no time left to blow it all on anything but this ridiculous head stone.



One of the few examples of when naming your daughter after the state you live in actually works. Somehow "Idaho" doesn't have as pretty a ring.


Next up, we took a little trip to kookville, otherwise known as Dinosaur Adventure Land, federal prisoner Kent Hovind's charming amusement park. Unfortunately, the "Science" Center and Creation Museum were not open, but we did get to see a video depicting different dinosaurs being taken aboard Noah's ark, as well as an exhibit showing how the Grand Canyon was not formed over millions of years, but instead created rapidly by the rushing waters of the Great Flood. There are also fossils on display to prove all this "science".

Also, I bought some great tacky souvenirs and went junk shopping, but I'll show you my spoils later. Tomorrow: the trip home. Much more fun than it sounds, I promise.

Showmen's Rest

Well, Dollfaces, I've finally returned from the Deep South . We had such a great trip, and I can't wait to share it with all of you. I know how much I enjoy looking at pictures of other peoples' vacations, so I know you will, too. Stay tuned this week for all the fascinating details.
Our first stop was the Showmen's Rest section of the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Hugo, Oklahoma. Here are some of the highlights:









It's hard to tell from the picture, but this stone is a bench, hence the hilarious, "Have a seat on me" line, followed by the occupant's signature.


And my personal favorite, a snake handler's stone bearing one of my favorite sayings, and a motto to live by.



Frances, I would have liked to have known you. To each his own, indeed.

Floribama Bound!

We're headed to the Gulf Coast for a much needed vacation. Unfortunately, we won't be traveling by train, but by small car with a seven month old who's teething. I promise an update as soon as I return, Dollfaces. In the meantime, try not to be too terribly jealous of me as I sit on the beach wearing a hat, under an umbrella, slathered in sunscreen, looking ravishing in my old maternity swimsuit. Sounds awfully glamorous, doesn't it?