Thursday - Sunday - Lucca, San Gimignano, Pisa, Florence, Home

Since our car had died in the road on Wednesday night, and since there was no rental car place in Greve, Bill & Jo took a bus to Florence on Thursday morning and got another rental car.  While they did that, Simon, an employee of the vineyard, gave us a tour of the winery.  When Bill & Jo returned, we all climbed into the car, grabbed a quick lunch in Greve, and started for Lucca. 

The plan was to visit the ancient town of San Gimignano, make a sweep past the Leaning Tower of Pisa, then go on to Lucca. Since we were travelling the backroads, it took us a while to get to San Gimignano, and we didn't arrive until after 3 p.m. San Gimignano is famous for its towers. Once, there were 72 towers in the city. Now, 14 towers remain. We parked the car outside the city walls and went into town. The streets were narrow and hilly.

 

A shopkeeper in San Gimignano recommended that we take the backroads to Pisa, as it would be both shorter and faster because of rush-hour traffic on the big roads between Florence, Pisa, and Lucca.  We punched the address into the GPS and set off.  We drove, and drove, and drove....

Rush-hour traffic in the small towns was no piece of cake, either.  A few miles outside Pisa, we gave up on Pisa (it was already dark) and made a bee-line for Lucca.  In short, getting there was a nightmare.  We finally arrived around 8 p.m.  We were to stay at the La Romea B&B.  We phoned ahead.  Guilio, the owner, said he would meet us just inside the city wall.  We parked in front of a bicycle shop, and within a few minutes, Guilio's car screeched to a stop behind us.  We transferred our suitcases into his little mini-van.  Guilio recommended that we not attempt to drive around Lucca.  "It is a very small town, and the streets are very narrow...."  Narrower than what we'd already seen?  Guilio had no problem convincing us to park the car and walk everywhere we wanted to go, for the day's drive had strained our nerves to the limit!

The hotel was down a tiny alley - we'd never have found it without Guilio's help.  There was a tiny courtyard outside.  A tiny wine shop opened onto the courtyard.  The owner was standing in the doorway when we drove up.  "Stay right there," I told him.  "We'll be back in a minute!"  We took our bags upstairs, dropped them in the floor, then ran backdownstairs, intending to head straight for the wine bar...but he'd already closed up and gone home.  :(  We walked around the corner, found a quiet restaurant, and had an antipasto plate and an entire bottle of wine.  As we were eating, Libby & Jordan came in.  They'd arrived earlier in the afternoon and had already been looking around.  We invited them to join us, but they'd already eaten. 

The next morning, Bill & Jo went for a bike ride around the walls of Lucca.  Joey & I caught a bus to Pisa.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa

Joey in front of the Leaning Tower

Notice how the Leaning Tower managed to right itself when the camera was in Joey's hands.  ;)

In Pisa, we snapped shots of the Tower, then - what else? - went to find something to eat.  Afterward, we managed to get on the right bus back to Lucca.  We walked around Lucca for the remainder of the afternoon.  I wanted perfume for a souvenier, so we found a perfume shop and I chose a scent.  As we were paying, the clerk reached up and brushed my cheek with the back of her hand.  "Oooooo, so dry!" she exclaimed.  She made tsk-ing noises, reached under the counter, and handed me a little tube of moisturizer.  "For day or night!" she said, dropping it into the bag.  Gee, thanks.  "Grazie!" I said.

Bill and Jo, Libby and Jordan, and Joey and I had dinner that night at La Giglio, a restaurant not far from the hotel.  Joey ordered a pasta dish with rabbit in it and amused the waitress with comments about "bunnies."  When she brought his plate, she told him, "Here's Roger!"  Funny, "Bugs" was the first cartoon rabbit that had come to MY mind.  :)

The next morning, we packed our bags.  Bill, Jo, Libby & Jordan were going on to another town south of Florence, but, alas, Joey and I had to end our trip on Saturday and fly back on Sunday.  Bill & Jo helped us check into a hotel near the airport, then dropped us off in Florence, near the Uffizzi museum.

There must have been a million people buzzing around the Uffizzi. We walked around a while, then got in line for tickets to the museum. After 30 minutes, the line had not advanced an inch. The throngs of people were beginning to get on my nerves, and Joey's too. Noise. Jostling. Pidgeons swooping our heads, even under the porch of the Uffizzi. "Let's get out of here," I said. Joey seconded that motion. We did a little shopping, ate lunch, then started trying to figure out how we were going to get back to the airport hotel.

We walked and walked and walked, looking for a bus station or information on how to get to the bus station. Finally, we found a tourist information center. A clerk showed us a map. We were "here." The l'autobus estatione was waaaaaaay over there. We set off walking. After a good many blocks, Joey spied some taxicabs waiting outside a hotel. Good idea! We hailed one, and rode back to our hotel.

That afternoon, it began to rain, and we were glad we had given up on Florence in favor of the airport hotel. We rested a while, walked a while, went back to the hotel and ate dinner. Our flight was scheduled for 7:30 a.m. We had not been successful at checking in for our flights online, so we decided to get to the airport at 5:30 a.m. We called it an early night, since we had to be at the airport before the crack of dawn.

At the airport, we learned that our flight would not take off until 9:30.

Finally, we were on the airplane. Unlike most trips we've taken, this ride home seemed infinitely longer. As the plane approached the U.S., I'd have gotten out and walked, if I could've. We landed in Memphis just after 5 p.m., and spent another hour or more getting through customs, chasing our bags around the airport, and trying to remember which lot we'd parked our car in when we'd arrived more than a week ago.

It was a great trip - maybe a "once-in-a-lifetime" trip - but we were mighty glad to see Memphis, and even happier to pull into our driveway.  We'd grabbed some fast food on our way through Millington - mmmmmm, hamburgers! - and as soon as we washed off the road grime, we ate and collapsed into our own wonderful bed.  It had been almost 24 hours since we'd last slept. 

My "clock" is still a little messed up.  I woke up ("bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," as they say) at 4 a.m., Memphis time, starved for a good old country breakfast of bacon and eggs.

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Tuesday & Wednesday - Greve, Panzano, Sienna

Corniglia

I'm posting few pictures that should've gone with the "Sunday & Monday" post.  Something screwy happened before I was finished uploading pictures, and I could not get these pictures uploaded.  This first batch is from the Cinque Terra tour - Riomaggio, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterossa. 

Riomaggio



Riomaggio




"Il Gigante" in Monterossa



  

On Tuesday morning, we headed for Greve in Chianti. On the way, we stopped in Varese, where it was market day. Leaving Varese, we drove to Carrera, famous for its marble. We had lunch in a small piazza, then drove up to the quarries, where they are literally carving away the mountains. This part of the tour made me fairly nervous, as we had to drive through long tunnels and negotiate curving roads which were also being travelled by huge trucks carrying marble. I was glad to get out of there!

Market Day in Varese

Outside Carrera

After investigating the quarry, we drove on to Greve. It was almost dark when we arrived, and we could not find the vineyard. Finally, Jo called Alessandro, the owner, and he came to retrieve us (we were only a few hundred yards away from the entrance). We took our bags to our rooms, and since it was too dark to look around, we went back into town for dinner. Our waiter was a jolly fellow, and spoke good English. We drank local wine, ate local cheese and other local dishes. It was yummy.

Grapes on the vine at the Fattoria Viticcio



View from the vineyard

Wednesday morning, it was drizzling rain, but the rain didn't last long. After breakfast at the vineyard, Bill & Jo walked around to investigate the grapevines, almond trees, and olive trees.  Joey & I set off in another direction in the vineyard.  As I was snapping pictures, my camera battery played out. I could not re-charge it without an adapter since the electrical outlets in Europe are different from ours. Bill had an adapter, but he and Jo were hiking, so we could not borrow it. Joey and I drove to Greve, bought an adapter, walked around the town square, then went back to the vineyard. I was able to charge the camera battery a little before the four of us headed to Siena.

On the way to Siena, we stopped for lunch in Panzone and ate on the patio of a tiny restaurant overlooking a beautful hillside. As in almost every place we ate, the food was delicious, but this might have been one of the better meals we had, partly due to the scenery. Joey & I had local sausage with white beans. (If I can figure out how to make this at home, we'll be eating it often this winter!)

In Siena, we went straight to the Duomo (Cathedrale di Santa Maria), a Gothic cathedral built in the 13th century. 
Siena Duomo (Siena Cathedral) - Siena, Italy
It was magnificent! 

Cathedrale di Santa Maria

Joey and I spent almost the whole afternoon inside the cathedral.  Bill & Jo walked around the city a little, then we all met for a cappuccino in the Piazza del Campo.  It was dark when we started back to the car, and we had trouble finding our way back to the Gate of San Marco, the entrance to the city where we'd parked our car.  At last we found the car, and headed back to Greve.

A few miles outside of Greve, the car began to make strange noises, as if the gears were not engaging.  We struggled up a hill on a dark, curving road.  The car began to smoke and roll back down the hill.  We put on the parking brake and got out of the car.  Other cars stopped to help.  One man looked in our trunk, found a caution marker, and set it in the road.  We called the rental car company, and they said they'd send a tow truck.  We had no idea where we were, but, fortunately, we had a GPS with us and were able to give the rental car company GPS coordinates for where we were stranded.  While we waited, about a dozen other drivers stopped to offer help.  The tow truck arrived in about 45 minutes.  The  driver hoisted the car onto the flatbed truck, told Jo and I to get inside the cab, and told Bill and Joey to climb inside the car - while it was ON the flatbed.  With ravines on both sides of the road, the driver turned the big tow truck around in the road, and rushed back to Siena at breakneck speed.  We all just hung on for the ride.  He dropped us off at a train station where taxis were waiting.  One of them (with a driver who we've named "Mario Andretti, Jr.") rushed us back to Greve.  It was almost 11 p.m. when we got back to our rooms.  We staggered up the steps and fell into our beds.
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Sunday & Monday - Florence to Montecatini to Levanto

We were relieved to be reunited with our luggage in Florence. Bill rented a car, and after a slight problem getting the car to go in reverse, we hit the highway to Levanto. We stopped for lunch in Montecatini and picked a restaurant on a whim. The menu had so many delicious dishes that we - especially Joel and Jo - had a hard time choosing. Jo deliberated for a long time, then finally made her choice, whereupon the waiter asked, "For today or tomorrow, Signora?" (Thus began a week-long ragging of J & J about their indecisiveness at mealtime.) ;)   We each ordered something different and passed our plates around the table so that everyone could have a taste.  The food was wonderful! 

After lunch, we encountered the first of several difficulties with Italian plumbing when Jo & I tried to wash our hands and could not figure out how to turn on the water.  (We eventually discovered a button on the floor.)

The drive to Levanto was beautiful. Along the way, we saw vineyards, olive groves, and citrus trees dripping with ripening fruit. As we approached Levanto, the roads became curvy and narrow. In Levanto, the streets were so narrow that it was difficult to navigate without hitting pedestrians or parked cars. The street where our hotel, the Stella Maris, was located was tiny. Determining street names was a real challenge. We drove around the block a few times (narrowly missing bicyclers and walls) before we found our hotel, the entrance of which faced a pedestrian alley. Finally, we found it and hauled our luggage up the stairs.

The building in which the Stella Maris was located was built in the 1700s and still featured original frescoes on the walls and ceilings. Our room was beautiful. The floors were marble. There was a fresco on the ceiling above our bed. 

After we stashed our luggage in our rooms, Joey & I set out to explore.  A few blocks away was the shoreline of the Mediterranean Sea.  We walked along the waterfront for a while, then met up with Bill & Jo.  We had drinks and antipasto in a little bar, then walked next door for dinner.

On Monday, we bought train tickets and explored the cities of the Cinque Terra.  Joey & I rode past the first few towns and got off the train in Riomaggio.  We didn't see much.  We walked up a very steep hill and saw only houses and little gardens.  Deciding that there wasn't much there to investigate, we walked back down the hill and wandered into a tiny restaurant.  We had bread with pesto, a couple of glasses of local wine, ravioli, and spaghetti with mussels.  Mmmmmm! 

Our next stop was Corniglia (pronounced "Cornelia").  At first, we thought there was nothing to see there, either, but then we walked down some stairs, went underneath the railroad tracks, and came out on the other side to a beautiful view - narrow cobblestone streets lined with colorful houses and shops.  We headed toward the sea, stopping for gelato along the way.  As we sat near the water's edge enjoying our gelatio, we decided that we would eat or drink in every town, all the way back to Levanto, and that's exactly what we did!

This Cinque Terra area was a hiker's dream (or nightmare, depending on which "leg" one took).  As we sat in courtyards, swilling beer or wine and downing pizza, we saw lines of people making their way up paths on the distant hillsides.  Silly tourists...there's a train!  ;)

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Italy - October 2010

My very nice brother, Bill, offered to take Joel & me with him on a trip to Italy.  How could we say no?

Our flight was to leave on Friday, October 8, at 7:30 p.m.  We picked up Bill and his friend, Jo, and hurried to the airport.  Wouldn't you know it...just as boarding time approached, they announced that something was wrong with the airplane, and parts were being flown in from Atlanta.  We hunted up an airport bar, had some dinner and a margarita, and not long after we returned to the gate, we boarded the plane for Amsterdam.

Joey and I barely slept a wink during the night-long plane ride.  We arrived in Amsterdam the next morning.  Unfortunately, our luggage did not.  The airline information desk said Bill's & Jo's luggage had been sent to Florence.  They didn't know where ours was, but said they'd find it and send it on to Florence.

Saturday - Amsterdam

We went to our hotel, spashed some water on our faces, and caught a taxi into the old part of Amsterdam.  The taxi let us out near Dam Square.  We had some coffee in a little corner cafe, then Bill & Jo set off in one direction, and Joey & I set off in another. 

Amsterdam is a beautiful city, full of old buildings and beautiful little canals.  We strolled around for a bit, checking out specific landmarks such as the Anne Frank House, then we wandered aimlessly for a while.

Soon, we found ourselves in the "red light" district, where women, clad in underwear that the parson would not approve of, sat in shop windows advertising their wares.  They reminded us of animals in zoos.

We strolled around a little more, then, looking for a place to rest our aching feet, we hunted up a coffee shop where we could relax.  After that, we were uncommonly hungry, and wanted to try some local food.  Joel had a dish called "hutspot" - mashed potatoes mixed with carrots and onions, with meatballs and gravy on the side.  I had a "pancake" with bacon, mushrooms, and cheese.  Later in the evening, we met Bill & Jo, and the four of us caught a train back to the airport, then a shuttle back to the hotel. 

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Missouri Ozarks - September 2010

On a tip from someone we met at a party back in the summer, we hitched up the camper and hauled it to Big Spring in the Mark Twain National Forest, near Van Buren, Missouri.  It turned out to be a fun and relaxing trip.

Big Spring is one of the largest springs in the country. It pumps out over 280 MILLION gallons of water a day!

Our campsite was a few yards from the bank of the Current River, which is fed by Big Spring and several other springs in the area.  As soon as we had set up camp, we grabbed our hiking sticks and went for a walk on a trail along the river bank.  The river was so clear that we could see fish swimming near the bank.  The trail followed the river for a while, then turned back toward the park.  On our hike, we saw deer, lots of birds, and a variety of wildflowers.  After the hike, we drove into town for a few necessary supplies, such as ice...and gin.  ;)

On Tuesday, we went "tubing" on the Current River.  (Graham, FYI, "tubing" is a sport in which people float on rubber donuts, much like automobile tire inner-tubes.)  Since I'm not much for water sports, we chose to do the short float, which was supposed to take 2 - 3 hours.  However, the wind was blowing straight up the river, and our progress was slow.  We reached the end point of the float and waded out of the water, sunburned and exhausted, almost 6 hours after we started.

Wednesday morning, the sky was overcast, and we decided we'd better schedule some indoor activities.  I'd seen on a brochure that the home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of Little House on the Prairie (and several other books), was about 90 miles away.  When I was a child, I loved Wilder's books, so we packed a lunch and headed west. 

First, though, we made a short detour to try our first geocache hunt.  "Geocaching" is like treasure hunting, done with a GPS unit.  People hide things - trinkets, flower seeds, pencils, etc. - in waterproof containers and then post the GPS coordinates of the location on a web site.  Other people punch those coordinates into their GPS units and try to find the containers.  The rule is, "If you take something [from the container], leave something."  The containers often include log sheets for the treasure hunters to sign as proof of their finds. 

We found our first cache in a hollow stump in a wooded area near the parking lot of a public lake.  Our second find happened a couple of days later.  It was tucked under the foundation of a log cabin on the grounds of a logging museum. 

The Wilder home was a typical small farm house, built around the turn of the 20th century.  There was a museum and a bookstore on the grounds.  In the museum, we learned that Mrs. Wilder published her first book at age 65, and that she wrote them all at her home, by hand, in pencil, on lined tablet paper.  She said she had "lived everything in [her] books." 

Since it was raining when we returned to Van Buren, we opted to eat dinner at a restaurant rather than cook on the grill at the campsite.  Van Buren is a very small town (population about 850), with only a few restaurants.  We settled on one called "Stray Dog BBQ and Pizza."  They had an item on the menu called "The Dog Pile" (no kidding) - a concoction of barbeque, beans, and slaw, heaped atop a piece of bread.  We skipped this delicious-sounding dish in favor of BBQ plates.  The food was actually quite good!

We awoke to light rain again on Thursday and decided to do some sight-seeing in the area. The first place we visited was Alley Spring, where there was an old grain mill. It was such a beautiful, peaceful place.  In fact, the whole area was beautiful.

We drove around a bit more, made our second geocache find, then returned to Van Buren.  I'd spotted a quilt shop I wanted to investigate, and Joel wanted to check out some of the other campgrounds in the area, so he dropped me off at the quilt shop and went about his business.  He should not have let me out of the car.  You see, I've been wanting a quilting machine, since my carpal tunnel syndrome has made it next to impossible for me to quilt by hand.  The shop owner, Carol, had a quilting machine in her shop, and she had just put a quilt in the frame and was starting to quilt when I walked in.  Her quilting machine was a fancy, computerized model that would set me back almost a year's salary.  I would not even dream of buying one of those, but I have been looking for a reasonably-priced used machine, and Carol knew where there was one for sale.  Better still, she had previously owned the machine, knew that it was in great condition, and was willing to introduce me to the current owner.  To make a long story short (if it's not already too late for that), I came home with the quilting machine.  I can't wait to use it!

We packed up Friday morning, made a detour to pick up the quilting machine, and started for home.  Despite the hot, humid weather and drizzling rain, it was a great trip, and we hope to go back soon! 

Alpharetta - Monday - Home (for real this time)

The repair shop called fairly early this morning and said that the problem with the Tahoe was, indeed, the fuel pump, and that they should have the problem fixed by noon. We went back to the Waffle House for breakfast. As there was very little to do or see in the immediate neighborhood (our motel was situated between a hospital and the University of Alabama), we went back to our room to watch TV and wait for the repair shop to call.


Just before noon, the call came in. The motel shuttle bus took us to the repair shop. We were so happy to see the Tahoe moving under its own power. We asked the mechanic for directions to the interstate, hopped in, and Joel cranked up. Then Joel noticed that our gas tank was only half full.

Now, you might remember that yesterday we had filled the tank about 30 minutes before the fuel pump died. We knew that the repair shop had needed to empty the gas tank to get to the fuel pump, and we expected that they would lose/spill a little gas in the process. But half a tank? No way. “It’s the principle of the thing,” Joel said, climbing back out of the truck to talk to the shop manager. A few minutes later, Joel came to my window. The technician who had worked on the Tahoe was at lunch but would be back in 15 minutes, and we were going to wait for his explanation. As it turned out, the technician did not know what had happened to our gas (yeah, sure), but they’d fill our tank for us. Another 10 minutes, and we were finally on the road.

We drove the interstate, what they’re currently referring to as “Corridor X” because it is not yet finished, from Birmingham to Holly Springs, Mississippi. We could have gone all the way to Memphis, but when we realized that we would be hitting south Memphis at rush hour, Joel said for me to get out the map and find us another way home. At Holly Springs, we got off the interstate and took a country road that would take us due north, through fields and farms, just the kind of driving we enjoy, and so calming after maneuvering among the 18-wheelers.

At the Tennessee state line, I zoomed in on the map and found a road through Fayette County – through Piperton and Hickory Withe - that would take us nearly to the Tipton County line and avoid almost all of the rush-hour traffic. As it turned out, our back-roads route was both shorter and quicker; we made it from Holly Springs, MS to home in about an hour and a half!

Alpharetta - Sunday - Heading Home (or so we thought)

With nowhere to be at any specific time today, we slept a little later, drank a couple of cups of coffee, showered, checked e-mail, and plotted our route home. We had a leisurely breakfast at the Peachtree Diner, conveniently located near our hotel. About 10 a.m., we hit the road. We decided to take a different route home, this time through Atlanta to Birmingham, then across Hwy. 78 to Memphis. Having lost our computer power (and hence our map program) on the way down, I decided to jot down all the turns from Atlanta to Birmingham, just to be safe. I used this note to guide us from Hwy. 400 in Roswell to the interstate in Atlanta. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wearing my glasses when I was writing down the directions, and what I thought was “Exit 48” was actually “Exit 4B.” Fortunately, we realized the error before we’d driven past the exit. I looked on down the list; I’d written down our next exit as “Exit 108.” Yeah, it was “Exit 10-B.”

We stopped for gas about an hour later, just outside Talladaga, Alabama (that’s “Talla-DAY-ger” to us Rednecks). We’d driven maybe 30 miles to Pell City, Alabama, when the Tahoe coughed a couple of times, a nasty, un-natural sound. Thinking quickly, Joel steered toward the nearest interstate exit and into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant, where the Tahoe sputtered a few more times, then quit, altogether. It would not crank again. “I think it’s the fuel pump,” Joel said. We called AAA for roadside assistance around 12:30. They said they’d send a tow truck, and that we should be deciding where we wanted the vehicle towed.

This being Sunday, there were no repair shops open. There was no Chevrolet dealership or AAA-approved repair shop in Pell City; the closest one was in downtown Birmingham. The tow truck arrived at 3 p.m. It was starting to rain as the driver hooked the cables to the Tahoe and winched it onto the tow truck. Joel and I climbed into the cab with him – my first tow truck ride – and we headed to Birmingham in the pouring rain.
As we were bumping and bouncing down the interstate, my cell phone rang. It was my daughter-in-law, calling to tell me how my grandson had been wallowing in mud-holes all day. At the end of the conversation, she asked if I’d talked to my son, Josh. When I said that I had not talked to him, she told me a little piece of gossip that made me gasp. I turned to Joel to let him in on the news: “The boys were target shooting from Grandmother’s back porch last night, and Allen SHOT Jeremy!” I could near my daughter-in-law on the phone, still telling the story, saying, “…I mean, Jeremy’s OKAY – he didn’t even have to go to the hospital - the bullet just ricocheted off a tree and bounced off his stomach….” As I was passing the details along to Joel, I happened to look over at the tow truck driver. He was staring straight ahead, wide-eyed and grim, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I patted him on the knee, and told him, “Don’t worry, hon, WE are not armed.”

The tow truck driver had come from Jacksonville, Alabama. He’d been to Birmingham a good many times but was not completely sure how to get to the dealership. Thanks to his GPS, we found the place. Nice man that he was, he then offered to drive us to a hotel. His GPS said there was one a mile away. Tired and disgusted, we said, “Go for it.” The driver’s thoughts must have been a million miles away, for before we’d gone six blocks from the dealership, he’d already run two red lights. When we finally reached the hotel, we weren’t thrilled with the looks of the place, but we chose to stay there over riding a few more miles in the tow truck. After that gunshot story, he was probably as glad to be rid of us as we were to be rid of him.

We had dinner at a nearby Waffle House. We didn’t get precisely the meal we ordered, and Joel noticed some flaky black stuff floating in my iced tea glass, but we were too tired to care (though I did make the waitress swap my tea for water). Back in our room, we discovered that we had no internet access and the batteries in the TV remote were nearly drained. We watched an episode of “Foyle’s War,” and called it a night.

Alpharetta - Saturday, The Weddidng

Sorry, blogfan(s), for my lack of diligence in chronicling this trip. It’s been a busy few days.

We came to Alpharetta not only to attend Andrea’s wedding, but also to help her parents with the preparations for the wedding. Our part was to make the floral centerpieces for the reception tables, and to help run errands. Since the wedding was to happen at 10:30 Saturday morning, the decorating needed to be finished by Friday night.

Our first business on Thursday was to get our bearings and make sure that our supplies were in order. Just after breakfast, we drove to Sandy Springs to the florist shop to make sure our flowers had arrived in good condition. (Many thanks to Charley Brown - seriously, that’s her name - of Flowers of Sandy Springs for ordering the flowers for me, and for giving me workspace to make the bride’s bouquet.) We then drove back to Alpharetta to find the Country Club of the South, where the wedding was to be held.

Let me pause here to complain about the asinine system of street naming in Alpharetta and Roswell. If we drove 100 miles in our errands around town, at least 50 of those miles were U-turns and loop-backs. You see, street names in this area are apt to change every few blocks. I suspect that the name changes occur at boundary lines that no longer exist or have been obscured by urban growth. Or, hell, maybe they just thought up a bunch of good names and wanted to use them all. Whatever the reason for the name changes, they wreak havoc for the unsuspecting motorist.

While I’m at it, let me also complain about the traffic in these two little towns. Gawd, Almighty, it’s bad. No matter where you go, no matter what time of day it is, every street is snarled with cars. Don’t these people have jobs? (They must, for the streets are crowded with Mercedes, BMWs, and Volvos.) Don’t they stop for dinner? Don’t they sleep? To make matters worse, while we were in town, Alpharetta was holding its annual “A Taste of Alpharetta” street fair, where local restaurants offered little samples of their best dishes. Near the center of town, streets were blocked off so that the vendors could set up their booths. The old phrase “you can’t get there from here” sprang to mind many times during our visit.

Thursday afternoon, we went by the bride’s parents’ home to load up things to take to the country club the next day. That night, we had a nice, quiet dinner, and went to back to our hotel to rest. Early Friday morning, we hit the ground running. First, we went to the country club to unload the things we’d picked up on Thursday afternoon, and then we drove to Sandy Springs so that I could make the bridal bouquet and pick up the fresh flowers for the centerpieces. By noon, we were back at the country club, unloading buckets of flowers. We went straight to work on centerpieces for 20 tables. By 5 p.m., we’d finished the centerpieces and were able to join the wedding party for cocktails and the rehearsal dinner. There was a little more decorating left to do, so after dinner we went back to the country club and started on the decorations on the lawn, where the ceremony was to take place. About 8:30 p.m., we heard thunder, but kept working. About 9 p.m., lightning was flashing all around us, and occasional drops of rain were beginning to fall. We packed up our supplies and went inside, hoping that it would not rain that night, or that if it did rain, it would not wash away our flowers. We crawled into bed at our hotel near midnight.

Saturday morning, we were back at the country club by 8:30. To our delight, the sun was shining, and the flowers we had set up on the lawn were still in place.

The wedding was beautiful. The groom looked handsome, the bride was gorgeous. The groom’s grandmother performed the ceremony. She did a fabulous job, and when her voice quivered with emotion, it only made the ceremony more touching. There were tears and smiles all around.

The reception was a blast. Good food, good music, good company.

At last, the bride and groom made their escape in a specially-decorated golf cart.

When the last guest had gone, the bride’s mother and I went straight to the bar. Elizabeth told the bartender, “I need something to drink, and I can’t decide between coffee and something stronger.”

“Are you the florist?” he asked.

“No, this is the florist,” she said, pointing at me. “I’m the mother of the bride.”

“In that case,” he exclaimed, “I recommend something stronger!” He poured two shots of tequila and handed one to each of us. “Can you ladies handle that?”

Elizabeth and I exchanged knowing looks.. “Susan introduced me to tequila at a Christmas party at her house,” she told the bartender. “The bride was conceived that very night!”

We knocked back the shots and collapsed onto lounge chairs as our wonderful husbands began taking down decorations and loading them into our cars.

Back at Elizabeth’s house, a cool breeze was blowing across the patio. A few friends and neighbors came by with snacks and drinks to help Elizabeth and Bill wind down. When a huge storm cloud moved in and dumped rain and hail on our party, we simply grabbed our chairs and moved to the garage.

Alpharetta - Wednesday - On the Road

East then south it is!

For the first leg of this trip, we chose a route that took us through Somerville, Tennessee, then through LaGrange, Grand Junction (home of the National Bird Dog Museum), and Middleton. This east-then-south route is 14 miles shorter than the south-then-east route through Memphis, but, in theory, takes 20 minutes longer.  What's 20 minutes when the choice is between (a) quiet, rural scenery and (b) staring up other people's tail-pipes?

A right-hand turn at Middleton sent us south to Walnut, Mississippi, where we picked up Hwy. 72. This highway runs all the way across the northern ends of Mississippi and Alabama. It is pretty country, hilly and green.

About 10:30, we crossed the Alabama state line. The soil here is a funky red color, like crushed bricks, but it grows corn, wheat, and cotton just fine. On one side of this highway, east of Tuscumbia, the winter wheat is starting to turn golden (it’ll probably be ready to harvest in a month), and on the other side, the corn is just getting started.  

We reached Huntsville around noon. Huntsville is all about NASA and the space program. There’s a “Space Camp” here where kids who are interested in space travel can come and pretend to be astronauts in training. All that Joel and I are interested in right now is a hamburger.

Around 2 p.m., we went through my favorite place, Fort Payne, Alabama. It’s a small town that lies in a valley. It is the home town of the country band, Alabama, and there’s a museum in their honor on the main drag. There’s also a little corner park that boasts statues of the four singers. Fort Payne is (wait for it) the sock capital of the world, and the last time I was here it had its very own Sock Museum. Graham, I so much wanted to get a picture of the Sock Museum for you, but it has either been moved or has closed. I shall investigate this further tonight, when I have internet access. A few miles outside of town is the Little River Canyon and Falls. The river originates on Lookout Mountain, in Chattanooga, Tennessee. There’s a scenic highway along the canyon with some absolutely breath-taking views. We did not take that drive today, but we did stop at the Falls and walk down to the water’s edge to take some pictures. It was as we returned to our car that I realized that I did not bring the USB cable to transfer the pictures from my camera to the computer. When we get to Alpharetta, I may look for a transfer cable that I can keep in the travel bag.

3:11 p.m. – Welcome to Gawgia. We just passed Gaylesville and are headed to Rome. When we get there, we intend to do as they’re doing. *snicker*

3:30 p.m. – We are in serious trouble!  The camera says the battery is about to go dead, so I plug the AC/DC converter thing into the cigarette lighter, and nothing happens. Worse, when the computer says ITS battery is about to go dead and I plug it in, nothing happens. I change out the fuse on the converter, nothing happens. The camera, I can live without for a few hours. However, we are navigating these Georgia back-roads using the computer’s map program, and if it goes down, we’re in trouble. I dig in the glove box for the old, hated, screaming GPS unit, hoping it can get us where we need to go. I despise this thing. It is so…demanding. At least the computer map program doesn’t back-talk or complain.

6 p.m. – We finally arrive at the hotel. The GPS unit took us around the world and back, but we’re here. And hungry. And stressed. We need food. We need tequila….

12 a.m. – What a nice evening it turned out to be. We ordered carry-out pizza and delivered it, along with a bottle of tequila, to the bride’s parents. We ate pizza and drank margaritas (hey, it was a bi-cultural meal) on the patio in the cool of the evening. Nice.

On the agenda tomorrow, errands and errands and errands, one of which includes a trip to the computer store for a new AC/DC converter and a camera transfer cable.

All Ready for Alpharetta - Wednesday

Today begins another Happy Trail. 

The destination:  Alpharetta, Georgia. 

The occasion:  the wedding of Andrea and Ben.  I've known Andrea since she was this big [---].  She is a might fine gal.  ;)

We have not yet decided whether to (a) start south and turn east or (b) start east and turn south.  Either way, we hope to be in Alpharetta by happy hour!

Grand Canyon - Saturday - Joel's Mule Ride

I did not post this during the trip, as our Internet access was to be had only in the lobby of the Bright Angel Lodge, and there was really no good place to work there.


Saturday, March 27, 2010 – We set the clock for 7 a.m. so that Joel wouldn’t be late for his appointment with his mule. A few minutes before the alarm went off, I got up and turned on the coffee pot. Joel rolled out of bed a few minutes later, all excited about his excursion. I sat in the bed, drinking coffee and watching the morning news, while he got ready. The TV weather lady said it was 27 degrees at the Grand Canyon. Joel put on two layers of clothes. As I watched him holding his two shirts together under the light to see if they matched perfectly, I wanted to tell him to get on with it, since the mule wouldn’t care if he matched; wisely, I kept silent. Finally, he was ready, and we gathered up all the supplies he’d been told to bring - (1) wide-brimmed hat with a string, (2) sunglasses on a string, (3) a bandanna, (4) chap stick, (5) a canteen full of water, (6) sunscreen (shit, he forgot his sunscreen, I think), (6) gloves; (7) camera on a neck strap (optional).

We grabbed a quick breakfast of coffee and muffins, then hoofed it on over to the mule barn, where the mule guy was lining up the beasts.

Nasty, smelly things, they were. When they weren’t sneezing and blowing from the front end, they were farting and pooping from the back. I did my best to stay upwind of them.

Wondering about those fancy tail-dos?  Here's the deal:  Some mules in the barn do trail rides; others are pack mules that take supplies down to the Phantom Ranch in the bottom of the Canyon.  In the barn in the early mornings, it's hard to tell which mule is which, so the groomers crop the tails of the trail mules so that, in the dark, the handlers can distinguish between trail mules and pack mules.

Norm, one of the trail guides, came out to give a pre-ride talk about do’s and don’ts for the ride.

DO: (1) keep your mule nose-to-tail with the mule in front of you; (2) keep the reins tight; (3) heels down, toes up in the stirrups; (4) whack ‘em good with the crop (a.k.a. the “mule motivator”).

DON’T: (1) let ‘em stop to eat; (2) let ‘em put their heads down; (3) let a big space open up between your mule and the mule in front of you; (5) use a cell phone or I-Pod during the ride.

He said when they get back, their knees, arms, backs, and butts are going to hurt.

If I’d been intending to go on the ride, I’d have backed out after hearing this talk.

With the preliminaries finished, the riders lined up to get their “mule motivators.”

And then it was time to meet their mules. At first, Joel was hoping he’d be given a white mule named Molly…

…but she turned out to be halfway grumpy.

Joel ended up with Milo. Cowboy up!

Yay! He made it!

Time to move ‘em out!

When Joel comes back, if he’s able, we’re going to take a drive and do a little sight-seeing. (Well, I may sight-see; Joel may simply go along for the ride, face-down in the back seat. *snicker*) Rumor has it that down the road a piece, there’s a trading post that sells “Indian Tacos” – something like a pancake rolled around spiced beef, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. Sounds good to me!

Addendum:  Joel said to tell you all that his butt was not sore after the ride, but his back was.  While on the trail,  he saw an elk, a coyote, and a couple of rock squirrels.

Grand Canyon Trip - Carthage, MO to Home

March 31, 2010 - As Joel likes to say, "...Home again, home again, jiggety jig." We made it home tonight at about 8 p.m., after a stop in town at our favorite Mexican restaurant. (We knew there was no food in our house!) We came in the door, saying, "Look! It's our own couch! Our own bed! Our own toilet." Yes, you could say we're glad to be home.

We left Carthage, Missouri at about 9:30 this morning. Since I was behind the wheel today, there's no hour-by-hour narration (you lucky people), as Joel does not like to type at 65 miles per hour. As it turned out, thanks to the route we chose, we seldom reached 65 mph, anyway.

Not far out of Carthage, we reached roads that snaked across the hills of southern Missouri. I'd say we averaged somewhere around 40 mph for most of the 350 mile trip between Mt. Vernon, Missouri, and Doniphan, Missouri. The scenery was pretty, though.

It was good to reach the flat plains along the Mississippi River, where we could go faster, and even nicer to see the bridge over the river between Caruthersville, MO and Dyersburg, Tennessee.



And that muddy old river was a welcome sight, as well.














During our absence, the trees sprouted leaves, the grass turned green, and the fruit trees bloomed. Spring has sprung!

It was such a pleasant evening that, when we stopped for dinner, we opted for a table outside on the patio. As we ate, we recapped this trip - it was awesome! - and started planning our next one. We want to see New England, Niagra Falls, Mt. Rushmore, Yosemite.... Decisions, decisions.

We'll keep you posted! ;)

Grand Canyon: Tuesday - Garden City, KS to Carthage, MO

Tuesday, March 30, 2010 – Garden City, KS – Kansas stinks. Literally. At least this part of west Kansas stinks. That smell we detected yesterday in eastern Colorado lingers here, too. A man at a gas station in Granada, Colorado, said that the smell was coming from the farmland. I asked him if the farmers were spreading poo in the fields for fertilizer, and he said he believed so. I’m not so sure. We saw stockyards in Lamar, Colorado, where we first noticed the smell, and now, as we head out of Garden City and pass by another stockyard, that same, terrible, funky odor hangs in the air. This odor is worse than poo. It’s like rot, decay. It makes me want to think twice about eating store-bought beef!


We think we saw a prairie dog yesterday outside of La Junta, Colorado. He was in the roadway, and apparently unafraid of moving vehicles, for as we approached, he merely hunkered down in the road. He looked kind of like a small beaver, minus the teeth and tail, but he was a lighter shade of brown, almost gray. As we passed him, I asked Joel, “What was THAT?” He hadn’t seen it. Then, I noticed little dirt mounds all over the ground on both sides of the road. They had big holes in their centers, and –

EWWWW yeah, that smell is coming from stockyards. We just passed another one. Gah!



About 10:30 we reached Dodge City. Dodge City is where Wyatt Earp was the marshall during the 1870s. We saw a big sign that said “Boothill,” and we stopped to investigate. Beyond the sign was a souvenir shop and a Wild West Museum. We did not visit the museum, but we stopped in the gift shop, bought some loot for the grandchildren, and watched a film about the history of Dodge City. It turns out that “Boothill” is the name of a cemetery just up the hill from the museum, where people who were shot in gunfights were buried, often with their boots on, hence the name “Boothill.” After our visit to the gift shop, we drove around on the few blocks around the museum, where historic figures such as Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Doc Holiday were memorialized. Even the cast of Gunsmoke and some other famous movie/TV people were included. Thinking that the “memorials” would be statues, I wanted my picture made next to James Arness, a.k.a. “Matt Dillon.” However, the memorials turned out to be plaques embedded in the sidewalk – totally NOT fun for pictures – so we drove on back to Hwy. 400 and continued on our way home.
In Greensburg, KS, we saw signs for the World’s Largest Hand-Dug Well and the World’s Largest Meteorite. We were determined to have our picture made beside one or both of these objects. Alas, we did not see any other signs, and did not get to see these wonders. I am devastated. 



Joel had his picture made with a saloon hussy.



Graham, as we were coming through Kansas, with nothing to see on either side of the road except green grain fields and bIue sky, I tried to take a picture that would give you a sense of the open expanse. Every time I’d aim the camera at the horizon and press the shutter button, the camera would beep twice and flash a red X on the display screen. After several attempts, I finally dug the camera instruction manual out of the camera case to see what the problem was. The book said that two beeps and a red X means, “Don’t take that picture, dumbass…there ain’t nothin’ out there.” ;)

1:30 p.m. – Speaking of “nothing out there,” here’s one for the “WTF” Department: 25 miles outside Wichita, Kansas, in the middle of nowhere, we passed a road exit sign that said “40th Ave.” I thought it was a bit strange, but didn’t say anything. A few miles later, we passed another road exit sign that said “70th Ave.” Joel went, “Huh….” I said, “They must have big plans for this place.” He said, “What’s next? 100th Ave?” Well, guess what:




2:30 p.m. – A late lunch in Wichita. We opted for local flavor, rather than the same kind of fast food we could get anywhere. We decided on Kansas BBQ, but had no idea where to get it, so we just picked an exit and drove around looking for a building that said “BBQ” on the side. After 15 minutes of driving in circles with our stomachs rumbling, we finally stopped at a place called “La Galette,” even though we were pretty sure that there wouldn’t be any BBQ on the menu. Sure enough, it was “girl food” – crepes, quiche, cold cucumber soup, and such. On the bright side, they did have several cases full of things like crème puffs, tarts, and éclairs. I was about to order a chicken salad sandwich when Joel said to the lady behind the counter, “I really had my face set for barbeque.” Bless her heart, she sent us right down the street to a place called “Delano BBQ.” (We bought a crème puff “to go” from her, and not just to be nice, either, and when we got to Delano’s, we told them, “La Galette sent us down here, so when you see them, show them some love!”) They had both PIG and COW on the menu. Since we can get pork BBQ any old day of the week, we decided to try their barbequed beef brisket, and we smothered it with hot-sweet sauce. You know, it wasn’t bad. Ok, it was downright good. It wouldn’t cure a serious craving for REAL barbeque, but it was very tasty. The owner was very nice, too, and when she found out we were from Memphis, she wanted us to try their “hawg sauce” to see how close it came to Memphis barbeque sauce. Close, very close. We left full and happy. As for the crème puff, we shared half of it – a bite for Joel, a bite for me – zooming down Hwy. 400 (seriously “to go”). We’ll take out the rest of it later, when we’re in need of a little something.



Outside of Wichita, boy, was it ever windy! Joel had trouble keeping the Tahoe in the road. It was so windy that even the little farm ponds were white-capping. We saw crows and hawks in the air, trying to fly, flap-flap-flapping their wings but getting nowhere. Joel said he thought it might be easier for those birds to hunt down-wind and walk back.


6 p. m. - Minor “SNAFU” at the Missouri state line. The map program said one thing, the road signs said another. We followed the road signs, and, after a couple of miles, realized that we’d screwed up. Nothing’s coming, so Joel makes a U-turn in the middle of the highway, and we went back to the intersection where we took the wrong turn. It took a few miles (and a few more road signs) before we were sure we were back on the right track. Carthage, Missouri is 15 miles away.
On the road to Carthage, a black cat crossed our path, and right beside a cemetery! Joel did a pretend “spit” and made an “X.” We’ve been needing to do that, anyway, according to my former co-worker Mary Jo, the most superstitious person I’ve ever known. Mary Jo would have turned around and found another route to Carthage rather than cross the path of that black cat. And she would never, ever have chosen a different route home from the Grand Canyon than the one she took to the Grand Canyon. I once asked her what she would do if a black cat crossed her path just as she turned into her driveway. She answered, “Some things can’t be helped, and you just have to spit and make an ‘X’ and go on.” I just hope that one spit and one “X” covers both the black cat and the different route home.

The landscape here is beginning to look like home, with lots of budding trees, yellow Forsythia bushes and buttercups in the yards. It’s also nice to be in a place where people don’t think we have accents. ;)

In Carthage, we snagged a room at the "Precious Moments Hotel."









Yeah, THOSE "Precious Moments."








When we pulled into the driveway, Joel said, "It's pink!" Well, geez, what would you expect? ;)













Graham, just for you, some random pics, taken in Kansas and Missouri: