For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a philanthropist. The problem? I'm not rich. Al Andrews felt the same way. He came up with the brilliant idea of writing and self-publishing a children's book. His goal is to donate 100% of the net profits to support a number of pre-selected projects around the world. His current project is to raise money to buy a lift for Thistle Farms. The video below tells the story much better than I ever could. Go here to find out more about about Improbable Philanthropy and how to buy a book to help out with the Lift Project.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
The Lift
No, I'm not getting a facelift. This is about Thistle Farms needing a lift and about the improbable philanthropist who wants to raise funds for the lift.
For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a philanthropist. The problem? I'm not rich. Al Andrews felt the same way. He came up with the brilliant idea of writing and self-publishing a children's book. His goal is to donate 100% of the net profits to support a number of pre-selected projects around the world. His current project is to raise money to buy a lift for Thistle Farms. The video below tells the story much better than I ever could. Go here to find out more about about Improbable Philanthropy and how to buy a book to help out with the Lift Project.
For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a philanthropist. The problem? I'm not rich. Al Andrews felt the same way. He came up with the brilliant idea of writing and self-publishing a children's book. His goal is to donate 100% of the net profits to support a number of pre-selected projects around the world. His current project is to raise money to buy a lift for Thistle Farms. The video below tells the story much better than I ever could. Go here to find out more about about Improbable Philanthropy and how to buy a book to help out with the Lift Project.
Friday, July 6, 2012
July 4th
Before telling you about our last day on the Trace, I have to tell you that our house did not burn down on July 4th. Last year we were pleasantly surprised by the huge fireworks show that our neighbor put on. This year, though, it's been extremely hot and dry for many weeks. (We came back to very dead grass after our two-week road trip.) There were (and continue to be) 'no open burning' and 'no personal fireworks' warnings. We ate 4th of July burgers at Famous Dave's along with the rest of the world. I guess everyone was thinking like us - that we had to eat burgers on the 4th even if we couldn't grill them ourselves.
Anyway, we were surprised to drive down our street the afternoon of July 4th to see the preparations beginning - the familiar yellow caution tape marking off the soon-to-be explosive area. This year though, while the fireworks guy was preparing to blow up the neighborhood, his close-by neighbors (including us) were uncharacteristically watering their lawns in 100-degree temperatures.
The prime viewing spot appears to be the sidewalk on the corner of our lot. Word must have gotten out about his spectacular show last year because twice as many people showed up this time. Howard and I sat near our front door so that we could make a quick get away if there were any police action. The show wasn't as spectacular as last year, and there was a delay in the middle when the fireworks guy informed us that a disgruntled neighbor was threatening to call the police.
The show ended. Nothing caught on fire. No one lost any body parts. The fireworks guy started cleaning up his mess. Everyone started folding up their camping chairs. We were already in the house when I heard a big truck going down the street. As Gladys Kravitz would've done, I peaked through the blinds and watched. A fire truck drove slowly and quietly right past the 'blasting zone', past our house, turned around in our cul-de-sac, drove past the 'blasting zone' a second time, and then continued slowly on its way. The firemen didn't even get out of the truck to give the fireworks guy a stern talking to. Weird.
Anyway, we were surprised to drive down our street the afternoon of July 4th to see the preparations beginning - the familiar yellow caution tape marking off the soon-to-be explosive area. This year though, while the fireworks guy was preparing to blow up the neighborhood, his close-by neighbors (including us) were uncharacteristically watering their lawns in 100-degree temperatures.
The prime viewing spot appears to be the sidewalk on the corner of our lot. Word must have gotten out about his spectacular show last year because twice as many people showed up this time. Howard and I sat near our front door so that we could make a quick get away if there were any police action. The show wasn't as spectacular as last year, and there was a delay in the middle when the fireworks guy informed us that a disgruntled neighbor was threatening to call the police.
The show ended. Nothing caught on fire. No one lost any body parts. The fireworks guy started cleaning up his mess. Everyone started folding up their camping chairs. We were already in the house when I heard a big truck going down the street. As Gladys Kravitz would've done, I peaked through the blinds and watched. A fire truck drove slowly and quietly right past the 'blasting zone', past our house, turned around in our cul-de-sac, drove past the 'blasting zone' a second time, and then continued slowly on its way. The firemen didn't even get out of the truck to give the fireworks guy a stern talking to. Weird.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Swamps and Critters
Our road trip continues. After a quick visit to Elvis's birthplace, we headed back for the Trace. First, let me mention how clever Howard is. He usually picks out some audio books for us to listen to before we take a long road trip. This time he got Deep South by Nevada Barr, a murder mystery that takes place on the Natchez Trace Parkway. It's pretty fun to be in the location of the book you are listening to - to actually drive through the kudzu-covered landscape she describes and to visit the places she mentions, especially the murder site. It can also be scary. We had just listened to a scene about an alligator attack when we pulled up to mile marker 122.0, the Cypress Swamp. Here's a blurb from our guide book:
122.0 Cypress Swamp (Mississippi)
Anyway, here's our first glimpse of the swamp. It was a stunningly eerie sight.
Unbeknownst to me that morning, I had dressed in swamp camouflage. I'm pretty sure that's why the alligators didn't bother me.
Although, Howard wore his beach camouflage and that seemed to keep the alligators away too.
What do you think, log or sleeping alligator?
Just a few more photos from this day. Before we got to the swamp, we stopped at a very scary restroom. It was covered in spider webs and some kind of stinging critter nests. Howard stumbled upon this IOUS (Insect of Unusal Size). First compare him to the bricks, then take a closer look. I'm pretty sure he could fly off with a small child. Anyone know what kind of insect it is?
Stayed tuned for more on the road trip!
You can enjoy this easy, flat walking trail in 15 minutes, or you can savor it for much longer, quietly waiting for swamp wildlife (such as herons and alligators) to appear.Wait a minute! Did he say alligators!? I love how he nonchalantly mentions alligators, as an unimportant after fact. On pages 34-36 he warns of the 'Natural Dangers' of the Trace and what to do if you encounter them - things like poison ivy, chiggers, ticks, and venomous snakes. There is NO mention of alligators on those pages.
122.0 Cypress Swamp (Mississippi)
Anyway, here's our first glimpse of the swamp. It was a stunningly eerie sight.
Unbeknownst to me that morning, I had dressed in swamp camouflage. I'm pretty sure that's why the alligators didn't bother me.
Although, Howard wore his beach camouflage and that seemed to keep the alligators away too.
What do you think, log or sleeping alligator?
Just a few more photos from this day. Before we got to the swamp, we stopped at a very scary restroom. It was covered in spider webs and some kind of stinging critter nests. Howard stumbled upon this IOUS (Insect of Unusal Size). First compare him to the bricks, then take a closer look. I'm pretty sure he could fly off with a small child. Anyone know what kind of insect it is?
Stayed tuned for more on the road trip!
Monday, July 2, 2012
The King and the Doll Collector
Yep, that's Elvis. Did you know that Elvis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi? I didn't realize it until we stayed there. Here are some more interesting tidbits that I learned about Elvis's younger years.
- He had an identical twin brother who was stillborn. (My imagination goes wild thinking about how the Elvis story might have been different had his brother survived. That would be a great plot for a novel!)
- His music was inspired by the gospel music he heard at church.
- He was ten when he made his first public broadcast at the Tupelo Fairgrounds.
- When he was eleven his mom suggested that he buy a guitar instead of a rifle at the hardware store.
- He lived in Tupelo until his family moved to Memphis when he was thirteen.
This is the two-room house that Elvis's dad built with $180 of borrowed money. Elvis was born in this house, but his family had to move before he was three years old because his dad couldn't repay the loan. It costs $4 to take a tour of the house.
The docent inside told us more about her life than Elvis's. I still can't get used to all the extraneous chatting that goes on here in the South, especially when I'm a paying customer. Sometimes it's charming and sometimes it's annoying. This time it was both. I have to admit, she had one really good story. Beware, I'm about to go off topic - just the thing that annoys me.
The docent lady had a friend. Let's call her Mabel. So, Mabel's son told her that when she died, he was going to dig a big hole and bulldoze her house into the hole. Apparently she collected a LOT of stuff, especially porcelain dolls. (Eeew, porcelain dolls. I loathe them!) Her son resented the dolls and all the stuff that Mabel collected because she seemed to care more about her stuff than her own children. Anyway, Mabel died and that's exactly what her son did. He dug a big hole and bulldozed her house into it. But, before he did the deed, the docent lady rescued a violin that Mabel had told her about. Mabel claimed it was a Stradivarius. And guess what!? It was! That story proved to be more interesting to me than the tour. That's why I had to mention it. Anyway, here are a couple of good pictures of Elvis's first home, here's the official Elvis Presley Birthplace website, and here are some interesting facts about Elvis's younger years.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Tupelo, MS
When driving on the Natchez Trace Parkway, you feel like you're in the middle of nature's vastness. It's hard to imagine anything but acres and acres of the same vine-laden trees that you enjoy all along the highway. It's such a beautiful and peaceful drive. The 50-mph speed limit and the 'no truckers' rule keeps traffic calm and to a minimum. We probably saw more cyclists than drivers, at least on the first part of the trip. I can't wait to drive this in the fall. Howard always laughs at me because I always say that about nature driving trips. But really, don't you think it will be gorgeous in the fall?
Our serene first day on the Trace ended when we exited for Tupelo, Mississippi. As we turned off the Trace, I looked forward to miles of wilderness emerging into some sleepy little backwoods town. It was a real jolt to leave the Trace and almost immediately turn onto the busiest street ever - lined with gas stations, hotels, restaurants, Target (okay, that was a happy discovery), Walmart, more restaurants, more hotels, neon, and lots of traffic lights. If you're ever looking for a wilderness get-away but don't want to stray too far from the comforts of life, the Trace is the place for you. I guess the neatly coiffed grass all along the shoulder of the Trace should've been my first clue that civilization was close by.
We stayed at the Best Western which was really quite nice. We had the most comfortable bed ever and the hot breakfast was pretty good. We went to church in Tupelo. Here's what we saw when we drove into the church parking lot.
What in the world!? When we got out of the car, we smelled the wonderful aromas of barbecue. My first thought was, "Wow, they really go all out for ward linger longers here in Mississippi!" After church we noticed a guy in there so we had to investigate.
So, it turns out he's a BBQ Champ. He was getting ready for his son's wedding and reception that was going to take place that afternoon. He had been cooking two pork butts (really the shoulder, go figure) since 3:30 that morning. He showed us everything, including hamburgers and hot dogs in the small smoker. We seriously thought about crashing the wedding later that afternoon.
He built this wheeled contraption for his very expensive hobby, competing in BBQ contests. He told us all about the ins and outs of these competitions. He said that some are blinded competitions, where the judges don't know who belongs to the meat they're judging. They supply everyone with white styrofoam containers to present their cooked meats. Competitors will be disqualified if they garnish the meat in any way, or if they have sauce drips on the outside of the container that might signal their identity to the judges. Also, they are issued numbers and then the organizers change up their numbers again - just to keep competitors from saying stuff like this to the judges, "Hey, you'll have to check me out, I'm number seven."
He told us about the World Championship BBQ Contest, where this year his team placed 1st for sauce and 10th for ribs. I just love meeting people like this - people who are totally 'into' to their hobby or work.
Our serene first day on the Trace ended when we exited for Tupelo, Mississippi. As we turned off the Trace, I looked forward to miles of wilderness emerging into some sleepy little backwoods town. It was a real jolt to leave the Trace and almost immediately turn onto the busiest street ever - lined with gas stations, hotels, restaurants, Target (okay, that was a happy discovery), Walmart, more restaurants, more hotels, neon, and lots of traffic lights. If you're ever looking for a wilderness get-away but don't want to stray too far from the comforts of life, the Trace is the place for you. I guess the neatly coiffed grass all along the shoulder of the Trace should've been my first clue that civilization was close by.
We stayed at the Best Western which was really quite nice. We had the most comfortable bed ever and the hot breakfast was pretty good. We went to church in Tupelo. Here's what we saw when we drove into the church parking lot.
What in the world!? When we got out of the car, we smelled the wonderful aromas of barbecue. My first thought was, "Wow, they really go all out for ward linger longers here in Mississippi!" After church we noticed a guy in there so we had to investigate.
So, it turns out he's a BBQ Champ. He was getting ready for his son's wedding and reception that was going to take place that afternoon. He had been cooking two pork butts (really the shoulder, go figure) since 3:30 that morning. He showed us everything, including hamburgers and hot dogs in the small smoker. We seriously thought about crashing the wedding later that afternoon.
He built this wheeled contraption for his very expensive hobby, competing in BBQ contests. He told us all about the ins and outs of these competitions. He said that some are blinded competitions, where the judges don't know who belongs to the meat they're judging. They supply everyone with white styrofoam containers to present their cooked meats. Competitors will be disqualified if they garnish the meat in any way, or if they have sauce drips on the outside of the container that might signal their identity to the judges. Also, they are issued numbers and then the organizers change up their numbers again - just to keep competitors from saying stuff like this to the judges, "Hey, you'll have to check me out, I'm number seven."
He told us about the World Championship BBQ Contest, where this year his team placed 1st for sauce and 10th for ribs. I just love meeting people like this - people who are totally 'into' to their hobby or work.
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