12.10.2001, 12.19.2001, 12.20.2001, 12.21.2001, 12.22.2001, 12.23.2001, 12.24.2001, 12.25.2001, 12.26.2001, 12.27.2001, 12.28.2001, 12.29.2001, 12.30.2001, 12.31.2001, 01.01.2001, 01.02.2001, 01.03.2001, 01.04.2001.

12.10.2001
The car gets hurt. The Cherokee was side-swiped while parked in front of our house. The person who hit the car did not stop. We have ten days to get the car fixed -- the driver's side mirror, the diver's side taillight, the rear bumper, and the driver's side, rear, quarter panel -- fixed before we leave. Maybe this is the big glitch of the trip.

After the hasty unpacking and the walking of dogs (on leashes, I might add) Southern Girl and I went to the communal bathroom to brush teeth, empty bladders, and wash faces and hands. When we got back the dogs were very worried. So worried that the big dog, Bear, the 110 pound guy whose entire job is to protect us, crawled up in to bed, curled himself up like a cat, and settled into sleep next to my head. I pushed him out and Fitz, the little Aussie whose entire job is to protect us, crawled up into bed, curled himself up like a cat, and settled in to sleep next to my head. I pushed him out and Bear, the 110 pound guy whose entire job is to protect us . . . You can see, I think, where this is going. I gave up finally and Bear was the dog who got to stay which at least was warm because Victorville was not.

When we got up at 3:30am to go to the bathroom -- Southern Girl first taking Fitz for protection, me second -- my little rear end stuck to the seat because of the cold. I had to rip myself up. I realized later there must have been wetness involved, though, since that's gross, I've dedicated myself to not thinking about it.

In between the breakfast-eating and pizza-eating, Southern Girl, the dogs and I drove to the Texas State Cemetery, the Texas Capitol, and Stubbs. At home, I buy Stubbs barbecue sauce by the gallon. But because of the morning eating and the anticipation of night time food, I didn't eat barbecue at the restaurant in Austin. I bought a T-shirt, however.

All in the all, the day made me proud to be a Texan, even if I am a Californian.

When we got to the Mississippi I was excited like a little kid. We stopped at the State Welcome Center and I damn near ran from the car, clapping my hands and couldn't wait to take a picture. I hear from people how it isn't that impressive, and it's a bunch of mud, but I'd never seen it before which isn't much an excuse. Because on the way home, I suspect, I will do the same thing.

We stopped at Vicksburg. There were Missouri monuments on both the Confederate and Union side. And there were many, many grave stones. Most of them markers for people who died unknown.

By the time we were half way through Mississippi, I began to loose my mind. More than a little punchy from all the driving in general and all the driving that day, I thought I could hang onto the open passenger door and fly next to the car. Luckily, I did not actually try that. I also saw cops in the trees and laughed and laughed at Southern Girl's ever thickening accent. I don't know how they clap out syllables here. Da-awg.

No KOA here. The Teacher, as in the dumpy conspiracy, has been lobbying hard for us to stay at her house and we finally gave in. And I can't believe it took us so long. A warm house, a potty in the same building as the bedroom, and nothing that starts with a "K." It's all good. Well, except for the plethora of dumpies.

Dinner at a Chinese restaurant with Southern Girl's father. A man with a wonderful and charming voice. He gave us, among other things, Alabama hats as in the ones worn by the coaches and equipment folks on the field. Again with the good food and company. That's a constant on this trip.

Then back to The Teacher's house where we were gifted with surprises and more company. The biggest surprise is Terrorist Dumpy. More on that later. Much more. I am scared. I've discovered when a teacher gives you a dumpy you can't run. You must take on the Dumpy.

12.26.2001
More about yesterday, the dumpy, another Christmas with family, and more new people. So the end of Christmas was a wonderful birthday party, not for Jesus, at which songs were sung, Christmas stories were read and silly string was slung. I spent a lot of time shaking hands and thanking people for their welcome to the South. If you are among the participants, send me an email. I have photos.

The surprise dumpy is Terrorist Dumpy. He recruits other dumpies. I have it on good authority that he's trying to take over Birmingham though I haven't seen the pictures yet. He's been to flight training school and has a card. He is a certified evil doer. I also understand he's building a web site for the Dumpy conspiracy though that may take while.

But that's all in the past. Today, we went to Southern Girl's mother's house and opened more presents -- thanks! --, ate at a meat-and-three called The Anchorage, and had, once again, excellent company.

We drove around and saw some of the sights of Birmingham including the Civil Rights Institute and the 16th Street Baptist Church. Very intense.

That night we went to friends of Southern Girl's for dinner. The good company may be getting old hat for all of you but not for me. It's delightful to see all these people who love my Southern Girl so much.

Afterward, we drove to the one gay/gay-friendly bookstore -- LodeStar -- and picked up housing fliers. Houses for under $300,000! Hell, houses for $127,000. No kidding. I browsed around on the Internet looking for a job. To be able to afford a house! This is something else I'm learning from the south: The first thing you talk about with other people does not have to be your job.

We went to the Alabama Thrift Store where I was pleased to pick up an UCLA sweatshirt for a mere .99 cents. And other sweatshirts and pants. But the UCLA! A benefit to being far from the coast.

Home again, Southern Girl and I prepared fish, broccoli and salad and settled in with our hosts to eat and watch the Bowl game featuring Alabama and Iowa State (Alabama won). I wore my sweatshirt and hat because that's what you do while watching football.

Now here's the amazing thing. The warm up for dinner the phone rang. And in the course of conversation, one or the other of our two hosts said, Come on over. And people did. People just came over and sat and ate and drank and watched football. It's a cheering thing to see. That does not happen in the circle of people I know where houses have to be cleaned, recipes found, and proper clothes put on before anyone can come into the house. The relaxed and genuine hospitality of our hosts and the generous acceptance of that hospitality by others is almost as foreign to me as trees that just grow.

Here's a shocker: Trees without leaves are not necessarily dead. It appears in some parts of the country, they lose their leaves during fall and spend the winter bare. Those leaves grow back in the spring time.

Jose started off by rolling something dead or poppy. There's no real telling which but either way he stunk. Luckily, there were creeks and waterfalls -- go figure! -- and he got wet enough to wash the smell off. He also got lost at the end of our hike. He runs up ahead, far enough that he doesn't see us. He followed the wrong set of voices. I had to start thinking of the story I would tell Southern Girl if we lost him. He fought a bobcat/bear/whatever is wild and big and dangerous in Alabama . . . . Luckily, and obviously, we found him. And when I say "we" I mean one of our hosts and my Oak Mountain tour guides.

Bear got in the water. He got in the water and swam up to a slippery, slide of a rock and slid. Front and back legs out. Claws trying to grab a purchase. Belly flat. And then found a way out. I so wish I'd been fast enough with the camera to get a picture.

Earlier -- and this shows that Bear isn't necessarily the brightest dog -- Josh and Bear had slid in that same spot. I didn't see them but was told Josh went down head first. I did see them paddling and paddling upstream looking like to Olympians training in one of those pools where the manufactured current keeps you from actually going anywhere.

And I was amazed by Sheeba, the rock-saving dog. She gets in the water and uses her paw to uproot rocks and then sticks her face in up to her eyeballs and grabs the rocks. She takes them up the bank to a safe place.

Now a nap.

When we got there the field was closed but a man was working on school buses parked in the parking lot and he let us go in an walk around. Only in the south. I particularly enjoyed standing in the dugout.

We also visited the Arlington House, an example of Greek revival in Birmingham. Since Birmingham wasn't developed until after the Civil War and since it is founded on the making of iron and not the growing of cotton, there are not huge antebellum mansions all over the place. This is an industrial city founded here because railroads crossed.

We ate barbecue at Jim and Nick's in Southside and then went to a bar -- a Birmingham lesbian bar -- called 729. I got lots of apologies beforehand but I've been to scarier bars in North Hollywood and San Diego both. It's an odd sort of bar, not exactly neighborhood, and seems as if people come, not from Birmingham, but from around Birmingham. Softball dyke is a popular look here, by the way.

There is best example of that industry -- the making of iron (all the ingredients are in the mountains around Birmingham -- is Sloss Furnace. It is closed now but you can wonder around it and we did and I took even more photos than I posted. Southern Girl tells me there is an annual circuit party there in the spring and concerts are on a stage at the end. There are even ghost stories featuring the furnace which, after walking around there, seems perfectly reasonable to me.

Then dinner at Silvertron Cafe. It used to be a TV shop and when it became a restaurant, they didn't bother to change the name.

We did some shopping in preparation for leaving -- thank you presents and drink for the evening -- and then went back to watch the Auburn lose. Though, of course, we wouldn't know that for a few hours.

The house was cleaned (our hosts wanted me to point out that Southerners do clean their houses which was never actually my point. More that they open up their home without seeming to worry so much having the right things) and people came over and Auburn, as I've already said, lost.

Then we played Catch Phrase. You hold a mechanical game thing and it gives you a phrase. You give clues to your team and they guess and then you toss it to the other team. Whoever is caught holding the game when it buzzes loses a point. This makes the throwing very important and, sometimes, violent. Southern Girl has the bruises to prove it. I had to pull my face out of the way a couple of times and Josh got hit square on the head. He hid behind me after that.

I have only these two things to say. If the category is "Food and Wine," the word is for sugary things, such as cake or pie, you traditionally eat after a mean and not large, arid tracks of land such as the Mojave. And Katmandu has nothing to do with a movie about a fantasy place staring Olivia Newton John.

Southern Girl and I managed to stay up past midnight, kiss appropriately at the right time, and collapse into bed.

We drove through the Garden District and then t the French Quarter where I rebelled against doctor's orders and had coffee at Cafe du Monde. And beignets. And was in heaven. Absolute heaven. We walked around the French Quarter and bought gifts and then drove some more. It was cold and we were both too tired to enjoy New Orleans the way that we could have without the cold or the dogs.

In fact, in something out of a movie, we decided to fight near Jackson Square within sight of the Mississippi. We got over it and ate at Frankie and Johnnie's, a divey, local BBQ place in the middle of I don't even know what neighborhood.

In New Orleans -- and the South in general -- I found my lifetime of pronouncing Spanish, Mexican, and American Indian place names did no good. I couldn't pronounce the names of most of the neighborhoods or streets in New Orleans. It is not -- as Southern Girl kept pointing out -- Faberge Egg Marinade nor is the lake and swamp area outside the city called Ouchie Falafel Basin.

01.03.2001
Swamps are amazing and San Antonio wonderful. Henderson Swamp -- in Louisiana under the 10 West -- is amazing. A long bridge crosses the swamp and basin and there is feet of water and trees and rivers and things that almost look like lakes. I'd never seen anything like it in my life.

The drive to San Antonio was nice and we got there -- to the nicest KOA in the world -- early enough to go out to dinner at a delightful place called the Liberty Bar. It was nice to be alone, ordering good food, flirted with, and on a date with Southern Girl.

I loved Texas. And that truly frightens me.