Bugged in Alabama

For a small trailer we have a boatload of critters traveling with us. Now we've added a tarantula. Picked it up at the Elks Lodge campground in Slidell, Louisiana near New Orleans. Figure it'll stake out, find and eat the two scorpions that have been skittering across the floor.

Our spot under a Spanish moss-draped oak.

This Elks Lodge needs some TLC. Its pool was empty except for a foot of what looked like sludge on part of the bottom. Place needs a paint job and some general clean-up but we'll give the members a break. Hurricanes and generally hot humid weather have done a number on lots of buildings in this part of the state.

There is an interesting culture back in these swamps. The natives are a breed of tiny people called "Swamp Dwarves". They're kind of like leprechans only they don't drink as much. And they're not green. 
When they die they're buried in these sectioned coffins (a regular-sized coffin is cut into four sections and you can stuff four, maybe five of the little buggers in). You see the damndest things back in the bayou.

Such as this. Paul's hot new camouflage PJs that he picked up at WalMart. They were out of the "XL" size and only had the XXXL. Damn near as wide as the trailer. There's nothing like Paul walking along and suddenly them babies fall to his ankles. Yes, he belongs back here.

But Daisy says, "If you tink dem camo pants is cool, check dis out. How cool is dis?"

After Slidell, we moved onto Foley, Alabama for a stay at the Gulf Coast Elks Lodge. Well off the highway. Full hook-ups. $20 a night.

But the park housed a lot of permanently parked trailers, both the FEMA variety and one that was awful.

This sort of thing is rather shocking to see at an Elks venue but we discovered that the park was independent of Elks management. Elks members get a $5 a night break for staying there.

Anyway, the trailer above was home to a former local chef who crashed his motorcycle and suffered a traumatic head injury. Tipped the poor guy off the edge. He lives in this rundown rig without any electricity--that means no A/C in this brutal climate--and throws his beer cans and trash right out the window. Pretty sad. But we were told that he's now eligible for public assistance including counseling so maybe his life will take a turn for the better. Hope so.

And if anyone wants to know how Daisy takes to 90 degrees and 95% humidity, well, this is it. She passes out with her nose on the cold floor. She's an Arizona dog. Remember: it's a dry heat. Like an oven.

The saving grace is that close to Foley is this place, the city of Fairhope. In our opinion, one of the best kept small towns in America. It puts Tiburon on San Francisco Bay, Newport Beach, and the Hamptons to shame. Why can't all of our towns and cities be like this?

Fairhope is right along Mobile Bay. There's not a piece of litter to be found. All of the homes are well kept. Restaurants and shops are inviting. And so on and so forth. 

If you're ever traveling I-10 east of Mobile across the causeway, drop south about ten miles and spend an afternoon in Fairhope. You'll want to move there. That is until a hurricane changes your mind. And they are not infrequent here.

What the hell is this? Well, it's more Fairhope.

Daisy's hot. Gotta get some factory air goin'. Bye.

"Fire" the Guv-mint

 Just read online that West Texas wildfires are out of control and one of the biggest is very close to Fort Davis where we were last week.

 Fort Davis, before the fire.

 With my astute, finely-tuned sense of observation I observed that everything in this part of Texas was bone dry. Observe it yourself.
Sure enough, a wildfire has raged out of control and parts of the town of Fort Davis have been evacuated.

The volunteer fire department can't fight a fire this big. So wienie-waggin', birthin', Texas teabaggin' yoyos, who's gonna do it? The Federal Guvmint? We hope so. It would be a damn shame to let this part of the glorious state of Texas burn up. I mean that sincerely.  These Nobama obamanosers say "we don't need no fedral govmint" but in fact we does. (Much of this is Paul's opinion, but since he's paying for the lion's share of this trip he said he'd drop me off on the highway along with that rattlesnake. See our previous post.)

"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.

Texas Tea Tea-Baggin' Towns Tour

Oh, we have one more query regarding Paul's rattlesnake bite. Here he is convalescing at the Fort Davis Cavalry outpost medical center in Texas. Our question to a medical expert is: have you ever known antivenin treatments to darken the skin and make you look like Richard Pryor? Why not Pancho Villa? Or Milli-Vanilli? Is that also possible? Personally I believe that it's improved Paul's looks but he insisted on ditching the hospital garb and stealing away in the middle of the night so back on the road we go, eschewing further antivenin treatments.  Alright, for you tea-baggers, look up the words "eschew" and "but" and "a" and "the". You might learn sumpin.

Course, first thing we see back on I-10 is more snake stuff which is the last stuff we need. We have enough snakes and scorpions. Some damn Texan suggested we get an armadillo. Put it in the trailer overnight. They have a highly acute sense of smell and natural body armor that protects them from predators.

 They can hunt down snakes and scorpions, kill 'em and eat 'em. So we've given it a try but like Daisy, the armadillo just jumped up on the bed and now sleeps with us. So here we are rolling east along I-10 with snakes, scorpions, Daisy and an armadillo. But they really are loving little creatures that the Texans consider quite a delicacy. Is any of this funny?

 Armadillos have a peculiar odor so now Daisy runs around the RV wearing her radiation fallout mask and preparing for the next suggested way to rid the trailer of vermin.  We were told to drive the trailer into the Gulf and give it a good saltwater bath. 

 Yeah, that one sure worked. Hit a shrimper's net...(actually, this is what is considered high yard art in the town of Van Horn, Texas, right next door to Chuy's Mexican Restaurant popularized by sportscaster John Madden on his motorcoach trips across the U.S.).

 Once again we're back in the oil-rich ("Texas tea" is oil) conservative bible belt where cable systems block out  pro-Obama channels like MSNBC, CNBC, anything with NBC in it. Instead, you get what you see here: Lawrence Welk, the Christian right, or 24-hour harangues against President Obama on Fox News.

 And lest you think we're exaggerating about the attitude down here, this is a common sight--anti-Democrat, pro-tea bagger (i.e., Republican) yard art. This guy had a third sign...

proclaiming to be a proud member of the Texas Farm Bureau. So what you have here sort of says it all.  "I'm a tea-baggin', whiny ass, birther-farmer who's afraid Obama is going to take my precious farm subsidy away and I won't be able to live the good life in town while my land outside of town sits fallow. Waah!!" Hey, tea-baggers, look up "fallow". But if you watch Fox News, which is all we had to watch, yesterday Sunday, April 3rd, we saw that Republican Congressman Paul Ryan is proposing major cuts in farm subsidies, not President Obama. But, what the hell, let's blame Obama anyway. Otherwise those tea-baggin' wienie-waggers are likely to be sitting on the sidelines for another four years come 2012.

I wish we could have snapped a photo of a pickup truck we saw in Fort Davis with anti-Obama stickers plastered all over it. Signs like "Obamanos", "Nobama", "Obamanation".  This guy, as it turned out, was a contract worker doing restoration work at the fort. If Obama goes, so goes his job. But then he didn't strike us as the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Moving east down I-10 toward Houston, we made a call to an RV park and gave our name. They seemed as excited as hell to find that Paul Ryan would be staying there. Course they thought my Paul was that midget of a tea-baggin' congressman from Wisconsin. Can't tell you how disappointed they were when the real Paul Ryan showed up. And what a park it was. The sign out front sort of said it all. The place was full of FEMA trailers and fire ants. It sat right on the interstate, big rigs rolling by all night long. But then it was only $75 a night. We did meet some nice folks there and I guess that's what travel across this great nation of ours is all about regardless of whether you have teeth or not.

Oh, I'm able to post a few photos now.

Forts and Der Fuhrer en Tejas

Remember the snake from our previous posting? Well, Paul found it. Here he is getting his first dose of antivenin in Fort Davis, Texas. The snake had somehow managed to secret itself in a small box containing Paul's sex toys and porn collection. He reached in for the latest DVD titled "The Devil Wears Nada" and wham! The freaking rattler nipped him on the little finger. He's expected to survive but if he doesn't, is there any man out there reading this who would be willing to join me on my continuing road trip? We can stow Paul under the bed. There's plenty of room now that I have pitched his traveling porn collection.

Oh, by the way, after the nip on the finger the snake made a run for it and continues hiding somewhere in the RV. To make matters worse, it turned out to be a pregnant female and has given birth to a bunch of little rattlers. Now they're everywhere but we can't find 'em. You may have seen the movies "Snakes on a Plane" and "Snakes on a Train". Well, try "Snakes in an RV".

I think we also, when we packed our bags in Arizona, inadvertently packed away a couple of desert scorpions. Now those buggers are loose in the RV. Saw one scurrying across the floor last night. Is there any hope that the scorpions will kill the baby rattlers or vice versa? Will an expert please weigh in?

 Please don't let the snakes and scorpions be a deterrent to linking up with me on the road as I really will need a real man, preferably an ex-Marine, to help me wheel this rig on down the interstate.  Incidentally, I enjoy moonlight drives, long walks on gentle white sand beaches, Nelson Eddy and Jeanette McDonald movies, Sunday mornings with Joel Osteen, sweet fluffy kitties, Rand Paul, Ron Paul and their brother Ru Paul, bar food, and cheap boxed wine. Franzia, if ya got it. So I'm both a romantic and a cheap date. Of course Paul is showing signs of recovery so who knows.

Now, back to our blog. It will be short since I have to take Paul to the hospital for his second round of antivenin treatments. You'll recall that we said some negative things about some of the dusty, dirty west Texas towns off of I-10. Well, we haven't changed our minds about those places but in the days since we have been quite happy with some of the other spots we've come across. Most especially Fort Davis, Sonora Caverns and Fredericksburg. So Rick Perry, call off your state troopers. Somehow our first blog reached this tea-baggin' governor and we were informed by email that if we kept up our harangue of his beloved Lone Star State that he would unleash his state troopers who would hunt us down and force us north into Oklahoma, a fate worse than Texas.  Let us make amends by telling you briefly about a few high spots, all of which are relatively short drives off I-10.

The first is a scenic route southeast of Van Horn in the Davis Mountains. You pass by the world famous McDonald Observatory--open to the public, by the way--but we didn't stop because it in no way compares to America's national observatory at Kitt Peak near our winter residence south of Tucson. Hey, Gov. Perry, what the hell do you mean everything's bigger and better in Texas?

Near McDonald Observatory is America's best preserved/restored southwest cavalry outpost: Fort Davis. Established in the 1850s, it helped protect wagon trains traveling the road from San Antonio to El Paso. It's also where black enlisted men and officers called "Buffalo Soldiers" were stationed. The fort and adjacent town are very much worth your time.  And if you're RVing, stay at Davis Mountains State Park, about four miles north of the fort. Large spaces, full hook-ups with cable TV for $20+ per night. You'll share your site with lots of javelina, deer, mountain lions, bees and boxed wine-drinking Canadians. The park buildings and trails were constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s and the large adobe lodge is currently being refurbished.

After Fort Davis and back up on the interstate we had trouble finding a spot to park the Lance-A-Less one night. We finally stumbled upon an attraction called "Sonora Caverns" with an RV park. A nice spot and the adjacent caverns are larger and far more impressive than better-known Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico but not nearly as impressive as Arizona's Karchner Caverns. Hey Perry, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Continuing on (ain't this informative?), we made our way to Fredericksburg just north of the interstate. Stayed at a municipal park called "Lady Bird Johnson". She and hubby Lyndon lived just down the road near Johnson City. This truly was one of the better RV parks we've ever spent time in. Full hook-ups, big spaces, plenty of grass, nature trails,  and an 18-hole golf course.

Fredericksburg is a winter nesting spot for a lot of northern tier snowbirds. It's a town settled by German immigrants in the mid-nineteenth century and maintains a strong German flair. This doesn't mean you have to like the fuhrer and goose-stepping Nazis but it helps to like German architecture and German food. Had dinner one night at the Silver Creek Grille on Main Street -- very good wiener schnitzel and fall-off-the-bone braised pork shanks, washed down with Texas wine. 

Fredericksburg is a fun place to spend two or three days. Plenty to see here. For instance, thirty miles down the road is Johnson City and the LBJ ranch on the Pedernales. But more fun than that and closer into town is Luckenbach, a dusty little clapboard crossroads made famous by Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings and their Fourth of July bashes in the surrounding farm fields that would attract hundreds of thousands of the faithful. Don't miss the chance to go to Luckenbach, Texas, as the song goes and meet some very friendly, genuine folks, slug down a long-neck Lone Star beer and listen to a local musician sing Texas swing.

But the best of all in Fredericksburg is the old Nimitz Hotel, birthplace of Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz. The hotel has been expanded and has morphed into America's premier museum honoring the men and women who fought in the Pacific War. That's World War Two for those of you who don't know your history. 

The museum is a poignant, interactive experience that takes you through all of the campaigns of World War Two in the Pacific, from the Japanese invasion of China, Pearl Harbor, and the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It's quite an experience and as the daughter of a World War Two Marine who fought on Saipan and Pelelieu, it had special significance to me. There was a room dedicated to Pelelieu and I kept looking for pictures of my dad, Sgt. Alan Gravitt, USMC. There's also the George H.W. Bush museum on site along with a detailed history of the Nimitz family and their hotel here in Fredericksburg. This is something you will enjoy. Hey Perry, call off the troopers.  

From Fredericksburg on down the road we went to Houston. Won't even bother telling you about the overnight spent at an RV park along the interstate. It was one of the places where you just park the rig for the night and suck it up.   

Oh, did we mention Daisy? I don't think we did. She is loving her road food and is now up to 32 pounds.  So she's well on her way to her goal weight of 50.

It's Already Too Damn Messy

For all you fans of Daisy's, Corita's, and Paul's travels in a twenty-three-footer, sad news. The freaking blog company (we think Google) has made some adjustments in the software and we can't upload our photos. Dozens of other bloggers have complained of the same problem and Google is offering no response or solution.  So we will do our blog without photos. Ain't that a hoot. And we know how much you love our photos since they are damn near award-winning. Plus we have some beauties so far on this trip.

First off, on Friday we left Green Valley (southern AZ) for what's turned into an annual trip to St. Petersburg, Florida. We are writing this a full day later on Saturday evening in Van Horn, Texas, sitting in an RV park in our little 23-foot Lance travel trailer with the side slider. We will no longer be able to refer to it as the all-new for 2010 as the manufacturer has come up with a 2011 model that makes this one look like a Model T. So we will simply refer to this now as the "Lance A Less" instead of the "Lance A Lot".  Get it? You probably don't. But hell, we've had a few glasses of wine. The dog is snoring but still can't drown out the big rigs flying down I-10.

Our first day along this interstate took us some 225 miles east of Green Valley to one of the garden spots of America: Deming, New Mexico. We encountered two dust storms, lots of highway construction, one accident and a rattlesnake at a rest stop.  We picked the rattlesnake up by its tail, put it in a WalMart plastic sack and threw it in the trailer. Don't know what we were thinking but we've never had a rattlesnake before so we thought this would be cool. Oh, by the way, a Union Pacific freight train is rumbling by us now, about 500 feet away.  That's on one side. Then on the other you have big rigs zooming by non-stop. Lord, how we love these road trips.  But we digress...back to the snake.

We decided to pull over to make sure that the rattlesnake was still in that plastic bag but wouldn't you know it. It somehow freed itself. And as we write this we have yet to find the rattlesnake. It's somewhere in this trailer. It's about three feet long, about as big around as a hot dog and loves to snap at people. But we're not worried since we live with snakes, scorpions, javelinas, bobcats, mountain lions, and legions of illegals: it's all part of God's glorious plan.

Anyone have any idea where a snake might be hiding in the Lance-A-Less? We've looked everywhere. We keep listening for a yelp from Daisy. She'll find it.

Oh, did we tell you about Deming, New Mexico? We were there once for a TV assignment on a big farming and ranching infomercial called "America's Heartland" (which, by the way, is still on the air)....where were we going with that?  Oh...yeah...Paul and the cameraman got really excited about Deming which is something like America's watermelon and chile capital. Well, what drove them nuts was seeing a dwarf walking the streets of this dusty little burg. And for whatever reason Paul still gets a laugh out of going and looking for the Deming dwarf. Had one sighting about four years ago but haven't seen the little bugger since.

Have we offended you yet? Stick with us.  We will.

Deming has a promotional campaign going on that encourages you to "visit, stay, and explore Deming". Oh yeah. Short of the dwarf (no pun intended), I would shoot straight on through to Las Cruces, another New Mexico piece of work.

From Las Cruces, however, it's just a short hop, skip and a stumble to the Texas border town of  El Paso, gateway to Juarez, Mexico, North America's shooting gallery. Juarez literally butts up against El Paso. The only thing separating the two cities is the Rio Grande which is nothing more than a concrete ditch.  Oh yeah.

Anyway, El Paso is where you begin a nearly one thousand mile trek across what Paul considers to be America's sorriest damn state in the lower 48. (Disclaimer: I'm typing this under duress.  I like Texas.) Now we'll grant you, there are a few bright spots: Houston, Dallas-Fort Worth, San Antonio, Austin. But beyond that, the Governor, one Rick Perry, needs to visit well-traveled I-10 across his state and see what a collection of garbage this place has become. Gov. Perry, like so many other governors in this great country of ours, has concentrated most of his economic efforts in the big cities. And those big cities are doing just fine for the most part. It's the little out-of-the-way places such as Pecos (see our blog from 2009) that desperately need economic help. But he probably doesn't give a rat's butt because the votes ain't there.

IS THERE NO PRIDE IN AMERICA ANYMORE? Can't these Texans who pride themselves with the slogan "Don't Mess With Texas" see that it's already one hell of a mess? 

We have always liked Texas (I still do). Have spent a lot of time here producing travel stories helping to promote tourism during the 1980s and 90s. What the hell has happened since? They can blame it on border violence, insecurity, the economy, President Obama, Janet Napolitano, the alignment of the planets, or the decline in Palin's popularity but Rick Perry is governor and he is failing miserably. Thank you very much. (Paul is dictating this, remember?) 

Well, tonight we sit in Van Horn, Texas in an RV park pancaked between trucks roaring down I-10 to our south and Union Pacific freight trains to our north. Van Horn is a town struggling to maintain its dignity. It used to be a thriving farming, ranching and railroad town with the main cross-state artery pulsing right through its center. Now the interstate has bypassed it along with passenger trains. These days it's the domain of RVers and a few other road- weary travelers stopping at the hotels and restaurants and campgrounds that are left. Granted, you can say that about many places in the U.S.. But Van Horn sits in the middle of nowhere. It's the only stop for one hundred miles in either direction. And it is worth your time and effort to spend some time and maybe overnight here. If you're camping, consider the Mountain View RV Park. Looks like a better place than the park we ended up at.  

By the way, one of sportscaster John Madden's favorite stops on his cross-country motorcoach trips is here in Van Horn: a restaurant called "Chuy's".  Good quality standard Mexican food and fun to visit.  A few blocks down the street is El Capitan, a restored Spanish-inspired hotel where cattle ranchers and train travelers rubbed shoulders back in the 1930s.  An elegant spot where a room for two with breakfast will set you back a hundred bucks. Look it up.

And as a testimonial to the people of Van Horn we crossed over the railroad tracks where we saw a sign with a large Marine Corps emblem on it. The sign said "We will take down this sign when these men come home. " The three men referred to were a Marine sergeant, a lieutenant and captain serving in Afghanistan. Flags fly around town in support of these men and the troops in general. And that's the way these out-of-the-way places are. They offer up what  what so many others only give lip service to. For instance, O'Reilly, Hannity, Limbaugh, Beck, Savage and the rest of that ilk. This from Paul, an ex-Marine.

Toward the end of the day we pulled into a gas station and saw a homeless man with a scruffy little dog sitting nearby. Daisy had lots of treats in the truck which she wouldn't eat.  We offered them to the man for his dog. Damn near as cute as Daisy (the dog, not the man). A little terrier mix that showed up at his campsite in October. They've been inseparable ever since. We have become bleeding hearts for situations like this and so felt very good that we able to help in some little way. Plus it's Lent.

Anyway, getting back to the title of this blog and in hopes that Governor Rick Perry actually reads this, which we doubt. Forget your "Don't Mess With Texas" promotion since you are messing it up enough.

Tomorrow, we're off to Big Bend Country, south of Van Horn. Hopefully we'll find the Texas we once found and not the rattlesnake we lost.

So stay tuned. More offending comments to follow. We'll even take on some of those self-important damn liberal-progressives.

I think I just heard a rattle.  Uh-oh...

Blog Begins Again

Spring is officially here but you wouldn't know it from the weather. This means it is time to hit the road in search of warmer temps. New blog begins in early April. Be there!