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?

Dolly Parton and My Mama

Have I told you of the love I have for Dolly? Not only is she an incredibly talented songwriter with a mountain voice as high and clear as a bell, she is also an amazing person. I really admire her in so many ways. She is who she is and makes no apologies, and possesses what I believe to be the personality trait most vital to a happy life--the ability to laugh at yourself. Those same attributes are some of the many things I love about my Mama. I hope someday, when my little Sugar Pea grows up, she will recognize these things in me, too. The song "Coat of Many Colors" is one of my all time favorites. I'm not too ashamed to tell you that I tear up a little every time I hear it. It is such a sweet, heartfelt song about a mother's love, and, in the writing of it, a daughter's love for her mama. And, well, as silly as it seems to blubber over anything involving patchwork from the 70s, the song just speaks to me.
The story, itself, is familiar to me, as well. Now, my Mama never had to piece together a coat for me from donated rags, but I grew up on the wrong side of a town where money mattered, where you were no one if your daddy didn't work for the big oil company. A boy in my seventh grade geography class had a little crush on me until he asked where I lived. "You live over there?! But you're smart and you have nice clothes!" Of course I had nice clothes. My Mama knew how to stretch a dollar at garage sales and the Goodwill, buying my rich classmates cast offs. I know how it feels to be laughed at by girls who knew that the sweatshirt I was wearing bearing the name of their richy rich church youth group had to have been found second hand. I had picked it out at the thrift store to try to fit in with them. They could barely control their snickers when, busted, I admitted it was from Goodwill. I shook it off and very soon learned I had no desire to fit in with such shallow people, and found my own vintage style. Of course, I never could have become the confident style setter voted "Most Unique" from my senior class of 500 had it not been for the love and support of my mom. I hope there is someone in each of your lives, whether your mother or not, who you can count as your biggest fan.
So enjoy the song, ignoring the annoying announcer voice and onscreen trivia. This particular performance is so genuine and raw, I just had to share it, and you've got to give Dolly credit for being able to play guitar with those three inch nails!
Happy Mother's Day, Dollfaces.

Sewing up a Storm

It's a gray, stormy day, with a few more to follow, or so the weatherfolks say, and there's a whole lot of craftiness going on here at the Sweetheart homestead, despite buckets of rain. I've got so many creative projects in the works, I'm about to bust with the excitement of it all. Baby Dear and sewing projects just haven't seemed to mix up to this point, plus, I've had the grief of losing my father and a lot of family obligations to deal with the last several months. But, finally, after a seven month hiatus, the time has come to dust off my Elnita and commence to sewin'.


Besides the burnin' desire to express myself creatively with needle and thread, my other motivation for The Great Sew-a-Thon is a serious lack of clothing, especially anything resembling appropriate summery attire for our upcoming trip to the Floribama coast to see Mr. Sweetheart's family. I'll be honest, I still have a long way to go with losing the baby weight, and breastfeeding has not done anything to lighten my load in the "stacked" department. I've put off buying much besides a pair of jeans and a few shirts, partly because of finances, but mostly as incentive to slim down to my pre Sugar Pea size. I am losing this weight very slowly, but come on, a girl's gotta have some pretty frocks, especially when her self esteem needs a boost. So, a few days ago Sugar Pea and I headed to Hancock Fabrics where we found some great sales, as usual. I just love that place. There's one near my house where I got to be pretty well known during my pregnant sewing frenzy, and I swear, every single time I go in there, half the stuff I came for is on sale. I was petrified when I heard this, but they say my location is here to stay.


Anyway, I found some pretty printed cottons for $1.95 a yard, and Simplicity patterns were on sale for $1.99. I know I'm a little behind the times on this one, but Simplicity has put out some of their classic patterns from the 1950s in a "retro" collection. I find vintage patterns all the time and have a small collection of them, trouble is, they're always so tiny. I know we're much larger than previous generations, and I know that women of times past would never have considered leaving the house without being stuffed and strapped into their "foundations", but really, didn't any of our grandmas tote around 44 Double Ds? It's good to see some copies of actual vintage styles in a size I can use, instead of always trying to find new patterns with a vintage look. Truth be told, despite sewing bags, purses, pillows, curtains, dust ruffles, stuffed animals and such, the box-pleated circle skirt from #3748 will be my first real garment, complete with the dreaded zipper. I've been so inspired by the girls of SewRetro, I'm making the leap! Who knows, if all goes well, I might get up the nerve to join their ranks. I know sewing in a zipper will turn out to be just like making button holes was-- scary until I just sat down and figured it out, then I wondered why I had gotten my panties in such a wad. Also on the drawing board are some pillow shams, a couple of aprons, and maybe even a dress or two.


In other sewing news, Mom and I went to a great garage sale last weekend where I got gobs of fabric for five bucks, but the real score was a trash bag full of sewing patterns I got for....nothing. Totally free. The lady of the house was a professional seamstress, so there were all sizes and all styles, some of them expensive designer patterns. I got several sacks of fabric which had already been cut for garments, but never sewn together, also for free. She seemed thrilled that someone who sewed would get some use out of them.


The icing on the cake came a little later when I told my Grandma about the pattern haul I'd made, and she presented me with two vintage cardboard pattern storage boxes.

After so many months of just dreaming about sewing, it feels so good to actually be doing. This dreary weather is a good excuse to stay in and stitch my little heart out. I'll be keeping you posted on my crafty endeavors. Wish me luck.

Pink Lemonade Pie

Here's a cool, creamy, pretty dessert just right for the kind of gray, stormy day it's been. I got the recipe for Lemonade Pie from my mom, and decided to add my own twist, turning it pink. The recipe couldn't be simpler, so I think this will be a pretty regular feature around our house.

Pink Lemonade Pie

1 6 oz. can frozen pink lemonade concentrate (or half a 12 oz. can)

1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

1 8 oz. tub whipped topping

1 ready made graham cracker pie crust

In a bowl, mix lemonade concentrate and sweetened condensed milk. Gently fold in whipped topping until thoroughly combined. Pour into crust, cover and freeze several hours or overnight. Store in the freezer.

Mom sprinkled the top of hers with a few graham cracker crumbs. I added some pink decorator sugar I had in the cupboard. I also mixed just a drop of red food coloring in before the whipped topping to make mine a little pinker. Next, I think I'll try it with frozen limeade-- sort of an easy version of Key Lime Pie. Yummy.

Six Lessons in Charm for Your Home

Ladies, are you tired of your husbands staying out all night like a tom cat when they should be spending the evening settled down with the family? Think a lovely, well-appointed home, beautiful children, and an adoring wife who caters to his every whim is enough to please a man? Think again. Be sure you've done everything possible to keep Hubby comfortable as King of his castle. After all, where would you and the children be without him? On the streets, that's where.

From Better Homes and Gardens, April 1941:

"It's not the big decorating crimes but the insidious little blunders that play hob with folks' comfort and a home's good looks... If your house is beginning to bore you--if it seems to have lost some of its youth and sparkle, some of its dash and 'wumph,' why not treat it to a short course in 'How to Be Charming and Popular?' . . . The six 'lessons' here, illustrated with the cooperation of Barker Brothers, Los Angeles, suggest a few of the places in which homes sometimes can stand improvement--with Howard Beebe and I demonstrating (most dramatically, don't you think?) some of the more insidious crimes of decoration that frequently are innocently committed even in the best of homes!"

(Click on any of the images to get a closer look at the text.)

"Decoratively, too, it's a mistake for spotty little rugs to pinch-hit for a nice broad expanse of carpeting in the front hall."


"How to start the day wrong--and I should know, for I'm the gal who's trying it."

"'How to win a husband and keep him home in the evenings by catering to him' is the title of this heart-warming scene..."

"A table behind a sofa isn't incorrect, but it doesn't take the place of smaller tables when a cigaret (sic) is giving the hot-finger."

"Here are grounds for divorce! Can't blame Hubby if he seldom settles down for an evening with the family if he's expected to do it in a set-up like this."

"Wall space can be a problem child and come to a bad end like this. There are solutions."

Is That the World's Largest Totem Pole or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

Remember our little road trip a while back? Well, after the stop at the Blue Whale, we headed further down the road to Foyil, Oklahoma, site of Ed Galloway's Totem Pole Park, where in 1937, a wood working teacher and veteran of the Spanish American War began to construct a monument to the American Indian. Eleven years of hard work, 28 tons of cement, 6 tons of steel, and 100 tons of native sand and rock later, the 90 foot monstrosity was complete.

Working with one bucket of cement at a time, Mr. Galloway covered the stone and steel, then carved the 200 Native American designs that encircle the pole. The totem, which is 54 feet around the base, rises from the back of a massive turtle, and depicts four 9 feet tall Indian Chiefs at the top.

Besides the totem pole, there are several other examples of Mr. Galloway's masonry work displayed on the grounds, including a large arrowhead, a tree trunk birdhouse, ornate gate posts, picnic tables, and the recently rebuilt Galloway home with its original rock foundation and walls, dating from 1936.

The park had been left to decay after Ed's death in 1962, and had fallen into disrepair. The restoration had just begun when I first visited the park in 1992. (Yes, that's my little sis and I rockin' the slouch socks.)


Here is the round "Fiddle House" Ed built to house his woodwork, including elaborately carved furniture, inlaid pictures, and numerous handmade fiddles.

The building once held over 300 fiddles, but shortly after Mr. Galloway's death several were stolen. This picture is from a postcard showing Ed inside his Fiddle House around 1955.


Each of the 300 instruments was made from a different type of wood, many of them beautifully inlaid. The fiddles that remain are on now display, along with several other pieces of Galloway's work.


Ed Galloway was a true "backyard visionary". If all of us dedicated ourselves to pursuing our own passion with his level of devotion and hard work, we'd have a lot less time to sit around bitching about not doing anything with our lives and feeling sorry for ourselves. Of course, we might also be taken away by men in white coats, but we'd be living a rich life, wouldn't we, Dollfaces?

*As always, you may click on any picture to see it in more detail.