Our road trip was preceded by a great Saturday night send off dinner at Rusty and Lynda’s. We were SO smart to buy a house across the street from those two.The meal was a fancy “seafood boil” including corn on the cob, potatoes, shrimp, kielbasa, hot sausage, and crab legs. It was DELICIOUS. We happily gobbled too much.
On Sunday Jim woke me at 7:30. His goal to hit the road by 8 a.m. We did well and got on the road only 45 minutes late. I never understand his insistence at leaving early. We are merely going to sit in a random hotel with nothing to do. But it’s his thing, and that’s not the hill I plan to die on.
We’ve had two long lovely days on the road. I do love the hours spent in the car. Our first audio book was a Tami Hoag mystery. We liked it but would have enjoyed some occasional comic relief. Maybe comedy doesn’t mix with a strangled sexy Russian woman found in a canal; half chomped by an alligator and stomach filled with various DNA semen. Perhaps that isn’t laugh track worthy.
Jim is happy because our second book is a Stuart Woods Stone Barrington romp. So far Stone has bedded two women and avoided being blown up by a briefcase bomb. We are on disc three of eight. I suspect Stone will enjoy a few more mattress dances before we hit the last disc.
I finished the scarf I began on our last road trip. Lynn–it’s coming your way. And I began another. I have realized I have ADD. I need to change colors every four or five inches. Otherwise, I get bored. Photos of the current project will be in a future blog.
Our first stop was Theodore, Alabama, near Mobile. I’m a stickler for finding local restaurants. Trip Advisor sent us to Hacienda San Miguel. Jim had chicken fajitas and margaritas. He likes rhyming food. I had two chicken tacos and Cabernet. It didn’t rhyme, but it tasted great.
In spite of having our personal-carried-from-home pillows, neither of us slept well. Jim bounded out of bed at 11:45 thinking it was almost noon. It was not quite midnight.
Even Bronson is off center for the first few days of a road trip. He won’t eat breakfast, generally choosing to revisit his dish later in the day.
Today’s lunch was at the #1 Trip Advisor recommended Scott, Louisiana. Fezzo’s. Fezzo’s name came from the owner’s father. Apparently, as a kid, Dad had made toys from wooden spools. He carried his spool toys everywhere. The postmaster nicknamed him Fezzo, the Cajun French word for “spool.” The name stuck.
We had a darling young waiter, Luke. Dark hair, fire-plug physique and impressed with our oh-so-excellent therapy dog. Luke wants to train his 18-month-old German Shepherd to be a therapy dog. I chose not to tell him to spend $65 big ones on the internet, and his animal would qualify.
Truthfully, Bronson is amazing. Going back to school for brush-up lessons paid off. I took this beautiful photo of him at Fezzo’s.
Yawn. I’m road weary.
Time to read my Vanity Fair magazine and feel sorry for Angelina stuck in her $25 million mansion and having to handle six kids all by her lonesome.
And we haven’t eaten enough this vacation, so time to prowl for food. Conroe, Texas. Red Brick Tavern. Yum.