"Elllkkssss Lodge"...

Snake update. First off, let's...no, that's how we started the last one. Let's see. Okay. Found the mother rattler and I do mean the "mutha" rattler who gave birth to all them littl' uns. Dropped her off on the highway on our way to Houston.  Now we have as many as six smaller ones scurrying around the RV. They have nothing to eat save for a few scorpions and a tarantula so we don't expect they will get a lot bigger.  That's both good and bad. Bigger means they're easier to find. But large or small, a rattler is still a rattler.

Oh, and then there's the Elks Lodge. No, we don't have an elk on board. We actually joined the Elks. If you're my age (the young Corita) you might think the Elks is just for old farts like Paul. In many ways, you're right. The average age is somewhere north of 70. When I called an Elks Lodge to check on their wine supply the woman who answered with a quivering "Elkkksss Lodge" must have been 90.  

Despite its older-than-dirt membership, it's a good organization that does a lot of charitable work, strongly supports our troops, and has an all-you-can-eat taco night for $5, to say nothing of cheap booze. But all those things aside, we joined for RV parking. There are hundreds of lodges nationally and we figure that more than half offer RV parking. All we pay is a small donation or a fixed rate of 10-to-20 dollars a night. The parks are off the main highways in pleasant areas. They're generally clean and comfortable.

 The shots seen here are at the Houston Elks Lodge off West Airport Boulevard in Stafford, Texas. 

 Can't say enough about Houston lodge #151 and its RV parking. Full hook-ups for only $15 a night. Lots of grass for Daisy to play on. A safe spot with security. It's clean and quiet, quiet, quiet, which for RVers is a mighty good thing. No big semis roaring down the interstate.

So the point is, if you're an RVer, no matter what your age, consider joining the Elks.  You'll like the folks, the community involvement, and the inexpensive RV options along the road. We've already recouped our initiation fee and our annual dues.

 What's this mess of a meat scatter? Why, it's takeout from a Persian supermarket in Houston. Pita, pilaf, stuffed grape leaves, and chicken from an amazing place called "Phoenicia".  Houston has more ethnic supermarkets than almost any place in the U.S. including New York City. And we don't mean small markets but huge supermarkets. You can find anything. A lot of stuff you wouldn't eat because it's un-American but some people do.

 We have good friends in Houston -- Roz and Michael -- had them over to the rig (the Lance-A-Less) for dinner and sex. No, just kidding about the dinner.

Daisy had enough of our group grope

so she hid under the covers. She really is the world's cutest dog..

While we were camped out at the Elks, enjoying Michael and Roz's company, we learned that we had our fourth big snowfall of the season back in Sedona. Prior to buttoning up the house, we planted pots of spring flowers and fully expected a wonderful splash of color to greet us when we return home. But we're told the snow and freezing temps have waxed everything, so we're back to xeriscape (look it up, teabaggers). What the heck. We're not gardeners anyway and after all, we live in Arizona. Land o' dust and cactus, rocks and hostile Apaches.  Where you can carry a handgun into a bar or into a classroom. That's true.

So enough of this. From Houston, we've moved onto Louisiana and Alabama. We write this from Foley, Alabama west of the Florida Panhandle on our way to our final destination in Tampa. Be there in a few days. Oh joy.