A trip to the deep south

I have recently returned from a trip to the fine state of Tennessee.

 We drove one end to the other of this beautiful state, soaking up the local flavors and talking with the people. It's a state rich in history and endless beauty of mountain ranges and foliage. Deep forests surround much of its interstate and of course, it is the home of country music, honky tonks and lively Appalachian tunes.

Mr. Man, who envisions us as avid outdoorsmen, began planning this trip months ago, accumulating survival gear, hiking equipment and weaponry. When the thermal blankets, ponchos and missile guidance system arrived, I began to panic. His dream to hike part of the Appalachian trail would not be thwarted, despite, rain, snow, rampant wildlife, or mud slide.

Yes, we have hiked before in some remote areas. Yes, we survived. Yes, I did it with a jacked up knee but now it is jacked up even more so I had some trepidation about an extensive hike throughout the Smokey Mountains.

We began our trip in Nashville, did all the touristy things, visited countless local hangouts, and did our best to see all that we could. As we bid good-bye to the Grand Ole Opry (an absolutely MUST do on any visit to Nashville), we began our real trip for the mountainous hiking. Our gear filled 2 giant suitcases, and we were determined to use it. (note here that my hiking boots took up almost half of the space in one).

Cool weather had been predicted, but to our surprise and that of the state, it was HOT and humid! Drat ! I have a much better winter wardrobe that I brought to finally use.

What we were not expecting was the number of people who had the exact same purpose as ours and found ourselves in many , many traffic jams in the towns and parks. As we entered the Smokey Mountains National Forest, we encountered a one way, one lane road, bumper to bumper, making arriving at our hikes trail head nearly impossible, along with finding a parking spot.

It was gratifying that the Fall leaves were turning just as we arrived and continued to do so majestically during our stay. If anyone is interested in seeing a few hundred photos of a red tree, an orange one and occasional yellow clusters, come on over!

It was also wonderful that this national park is one of the most visited and sought out, which was apparent by the thousands of people there. It was also very accessible, and no charges for anything in the park.

We creeped at 5 miles an hour on a scenic loop of Cades Cove. Luckily, we were able to see much of what we wanted and secure a parking place when needed, even if it was a little wonky and straddling a ditch. As we drove by large open meadows, we saw deer and Antelope feeding on the dewy grasses. Signage is posted on the posts of barbed wire barriers along the road that 50 yards must be maintained between the human and wildlife, and that the antelope and many park black bears are not as sweet and friendly as you might think and may charge and kill you.

I missed the photo op of the father standing under one of these signs, spreading open the barbed wire fence and pushing his two little children into the meadow to get a closer look at the deer bucks.

(insert here cartoon of man casting fishing pole with infant on hook as bait).

We turned off the road at one overlook and behind us a family with several children emptied out, commenting that they saw a bear run up a small hill. Mr. Man and I were hoping to spot a bear, but not encounter one. We were up on the opposite side of aforementioned hill and didn't see the bear and glad of it. As we walked down the hill, the mother is sending her two youngest up the hill past us to look for the bear. The children were exchanging plans on what they would do if they got eaten by a bear. Little sister tells brother that he should go first because she's not ready to "get dead".

Their mother stood at the bottom of the hill to await the screams of her offspring being mauled.
We shook our heads at her stupidity and wondered if these two sets of parents just didn't want their kids any more.

As we drove on through the park, heading for the trail head, a bear galloped by our car. I was shocked to see it so close but mesmerized by its majesty and size. That was the thrill of my day.

We reached our hike start, got Mr. Man loaded up and I bid him adieu as he prepared to hike his trail with all his gear. Should you hike alone??? NEVER! No fear, as he was being joined by a hundred other hikers in similar gear, ready to forge their way into the wilderness. I told Mr. Man I would wait for him and save my knees for the next hike. He returned 3 hours later, triumphant that he had hiked a portion of the Appalachian trail, had reached his waterfall,  and had only 1,301 miles more to go before he reached the state of Main. 

It was an awesome trip. The landscape is so different than anywhere I have visited. We felt fulfilled that the forest color changes were done for our benefit, we hiked, we toured, we explored, and met the wild life.

A trip to Tennessee is recommended to "all y'all".  Don't forget to eat some grits,  hot chicken , and wash it down with some moonshine while you're there too!

The reabsorption process

We had just been out to dinner and drank a gallon of lemon water but because it is so dang hot outside, the body quickly absorbs it. Feeling sated and believing the evening is over, the decision to wait to use any "facilities" is pushed to the back of the mind and can wait until arriving back to the homestead 5 miles away.

  On the way home, there is the favored shopping store, declaring marvelous sales, and savings and my date, Mr. Man, suggests we stop there . Disbelieving he has even suggested this date add on, I take him up on it before he changes his mind , and also wondering what the catch is. . . he abhors home décor stores and floral arrangements.

Happily shopping and pushing my empty cart, looking very hard down every aisle to find something to  fill it. Nothing. Then I discover a 90% off aisle and spot the perfect accent. A must have. How inconvenient that now I need to use the bathroom!  No problem. This store has a lovely one and I head that way, only to find the entry to the hallway where its located barricaded with a sign that prohibits passage due to some sort of water problem and cleanup is in progress.

Not alone in the quest for the bathroom, there is a general milling around the 3 foot high barricade and signage with mumblings of varied desperations and concerns. I returned to the sale aisle to basket my purchases, and become determined to absorb my bladder contents. Mr. Man  also bumps into  the barricade,  finding need of the men's room. He reports back to me that the store is closing in 7 minutes and it's doubtful the barricade to the restrooms will be removed. There's no time to make my purchase and use the restroom. I double up the reabsorption process. Where has Mr. Man gone?  We need to check out and get home ASAP. He's getting good at the disappearing act.

  I believe he led the whoop and leaps over the barricade. It began with him and then another and then another, channeling their inner track  star and become hurdlers with a mission. Crying children are held up in the face of the store manager so the barricade will be slid aside and allow the people access to the restrooms. The managers' grim faces decide to remove it before somebody jumps over and falls, causing extensive paper work and delay in closing the store and going home!  Dang the agility of the desperate!
  Standing in line, determined to win my own bladder battle, Mr. Man reappears, smug and happy that he has led the barricade revolt and gained access to the Men's room, which is also doubling as a women's room.  "The barricade is now removed". Too late for me. I've made my choice and I'm not leaving without my super deals.
 . The store shuts off its lights, locks it doors and firmly pushes us to exit--- permanently.
  In the car, Mr. Man suggests that we go to a concert in the park, 5 miles in the opposite direction of home. Now that he has taken care of his  "business" he's feeling generous to extend the date into a late evening.  MY teeth are floating. I'm doubtful I can even make it to the house. A concert? Forget it!
Made it home just in time. Which just proves. . .  there is no place like home!

Kiddie day at the Lazy Dog Cafe

It was Kiddie day at the Lazy Dog Café!

We were there on a Sunday for Linner. . . late lunch/early dinner. As we entered, the place is busy but not too crowded and we're seated right away. Walking to our table, we pass a group just packing up to leave. A young mother , her friend and a waitress are crawling under the grouping of tables, attempting to wrangle the escaped infant out into the open for capture. The baby is chortling in delight, and enjoying its freedom until it was distracted by a french-frie  on the floor.

As soon as we're seated, Mr. Man excuses himself to wash his hands. When he gets back he comments that there is a  child playing  dead on the floor across the aisle. He had to step over him and assured the mother he would not stomp on the kid. Here's a thought. . . . maybe restrain your childs movements to the table area. I head to the restroom to wash my hands and sure enough, there is the kid, rolling back and forth on the floor, and kicking at his chair in defiance. Hard not to laugh at this display because he's trying to roll toward the door inconspicuously and hasn't found the escape route yet.

We are thoroughly enjoying our linner and in comes a family of four which includes mom, dad, baby and preschooler and sit next to us.  Obviously, it is past nap time, dinner time, happy time. The crying and kicking began immediately. Mom and Dad are bickering about who's turn it is to time out with the preschooler. Mom wins, pulling out the "get out of jail free card" by breast feeding the baby.

Dad takes kicker/screamer to the foyer where the kids fury is echoed in the vaulted ceiling.




Don't misunderstand me. I love children. I delight in them. I've HAD them and been there, done that! We just stopped going out to dinner with ours when they got to the terrible two's and three's . It wasn't fun for any of us. I sympathize with these parents. They're not sure of what to do with the child out of control. You can't beat them or gag them = jail time. Hoping a hole opens up and swallows you all in is not going to happen and the magical fairy dust to calm them down and act civilized just doesn't exist.






The children were our topic of conversation and a walk down memory lane. The screaming from the foyer didn't really bother me. Crying in frustration and temper tantrums seem to be the calling card of most little ones forced into sitting quietly and acting as if they were adults in public places.


It was a happy ending for all .




The mom of the screamer finally feels bad and orders dad a big gin and tonic. She takes it out to him in the lobby then returns to the table to start eating. I applaude dads steadfastness. He isn't giving in to the tantrum and they are sitting there until it stops and quiet is achieved and the screaming has already dwindled to an occasional sob with gulp.
The rolling chair kicker was given an entire curved booth to roll around in as long as he stayed off of the floor and stopped kicking.

The crawl away infant was caught, restrained by mommy and never had the chance to eat that floor frie.

Mr. Man and I enjoyed our schnitzel  and slaw, and the Lazy Dog Café still ranks high for our restaurant favorites.

"What's in your closet?"

I have a walk in closet.

Technically, aren't ALL closets walk in? You open the door and you could go in there and sit a spell. Isn't that where the monsters live or where the secret door to Narnia is located?

Mine is small by todays standards. 6 feet by 6 feet lined by shelving and two full wardrobe bars. In colonial days this would have been considered a pretty nice bedroom. In comparison to most of my friends living in more updated and modern homes built after 1990,  it's mini. I just visited my friends closet, where there were three levels of hanging bars , built in dressers, shoe case , enormous staging island in the center of the closet and a full length mirror with a chair beside it to sit down and contemplate what outfit to wear with which shoes. I guess you'd say it was a "fantasy closet" except she lives just up the road from me and I had no idea this beauty of a wardrobe was hiding in the back of the master bedroom. It has more square footage in it than my master bedroom and bath combined. But lets get back to mine and leave the fantasy closet.

My closet  holds a lot.

Unfortunately, most of it isn't clothing. The closet also serves as a catch all, hide all and storage unit for books, games, luggage, hiking and camping gear, Christmas decorations, old school projects, hats, puzzles , umbrellas, work gear and trophy display ( to remind us of our glory days as pseudo athletes and performers.)

The closet gets cleaned out every 3-4 years. . . . okay, 5 to 6 years.

It got to the point of total disarray and disservice when we could no longer open the closet door and step in to reach our clothes without climbing over the junk and balancing on various shoes. We got an extendable  grabber so we could get to the stuff on the top shelf and reach the clothes in the corner. Sadly, they never made their way back and got stuffed into the closet. Yes, I am a mess. There is no Hazel or Alice, or any kind of valet service here. It's a one woman show and it ain't pretty!

When it got to the point that the closet door would no longer shut and hide our mess, we decided it was time to purge. The closet was literally vomiting its contents out the door and no shoving, shoveling or shifting would change it.

First out were the shoes. An easy task for Mr. Man. Keep half, throw the rest away. He whittled his shoe count down to 10 pair.

Not so easy for Big Foot. I keep every shoe I can stick on my feet because of the fear of not being able to find another pair. Granted, most of my shoes were of the flip flop category. I dumped out my shoe basket, brought down all the shoe boxes where I kept only the best shoes and did an over all survey. My wardrobe of the last 30 years could have been recreated from my finds. Tough to get rid of those KEDS that fit but hurt and now have rotted from being twisted and crushed at the bottom. Gone are the $100 velveteen heels worn 2 hours and removed after the toes started to hemorrhage and I left the formal affair barefooted and carried the shoes home to be boxed safely amongst the lost and forgotten.

The short story is we got rid of 31 pairs of shoes and sandals.

10 pair were thrown in the trash- Horrified that they were even living in my house and even more horrible that we thought we would wear them again. They should have been picked up by Hazmat !

Shoes out of the way, the clothing weeding began. Still waiting to fit back into my disco outfit from 1977 and the cowboy outfit from my western days of 1983!

I purchased organizers for my various accessories. . . . my 4 necklaces, 2 belts and 5 hats. (not a fashion maven. . . you should have picked up on that from the disco-western reference)

The most amazing find was the basket of socks buried in the darkest depths, which make up the lonely sock club. Not one has a match. There are 50 singles. How can that be? I'm contemplating braiding them into a 50 yard rope but I live in a single story so really no need for that! Crafts abound for old sock use but certainly I don't need 50 of anything! No need to hang on to those singles of toddler socks any more now that the toddler is 30 years old!

I have 12 sweaters all worn 2 times and in all shades of black and blacker. Its never cold enough here to wear them. WHY do I have so many????   Parted with 4 from 1997-2005 era and ditched the maxi skirt I thought was so stylin'  but in fact incredibly ugly and not one friend said anything in warning! It looks ugly on the hanger and horror of horrors I wore it in public!

Now that the closet is cleaned out, reorganized, dusted and mopped, I feel accomplished! Isn't that always the way?

I've etched on the door frame the month and year this clean out occurred. . . . maybe it will guilt me into doing this every year.

How many shoes are in YOUR closet?  Take them out and count. It will shock you.
I still have a lot of purging and sorting to do but feel that it's an ongoing process.

Good luck with your purge and clean out. Just do it.

"Do you know Jalama?"

 

I have returned from a long camping vacation at the sea shore . It is one of my favorite places on the planet. But Why?

There is no internet service, cell phone service, shopping or amenities. It boasts 8 showers that gives you warm water for 2 minutes for  a quarter. The cold water for the 1 minute warm up included.. There is a small camp store that sells overpriced groceries and miscellaneous camping necessities, clothing , beverages of anything conceivable, and has a tiny short order kitchen selling a variety of fried foods and a famously delicious burger worth every penny.

It's 17 curvaceous miles from a main road, which can be difficult to drive for the car sick and faint of heart.

It's 22 miles from the nearest town of Lompoc, a predominately military town that is famous for it's flower fields in spring and the sleepy La Purisma Mission.

There is electricity only. No water or sewer hookups. Water rationing and black/grey tank management are essential if you stay for a number of days.

My trailer is parked 300 to 400 yards from the ocean by choice. It could be ocean front and on the sand, 100 yards from the water, but that is just too sandy and windy.

It's not the prettiest beach I've been to. The water is generally too cold to swim in without a wet suit, and there are strong rip tides and undertows waiting to drag you out to the oil rigs miles out in the distance. The sand is coarse. It is usually windy here and getting a sandblast to the face is your reward for sitting on the barren beach. There is a lifeguard on duty on the weekends, only until labor day, but usually no one to save from the rough ocean because few people venture out into the water past their ankles due to rapidly frozen toes. Any other day during the fall and winter weeks, you're on your own. (Hopefully you read the signage posted at every entry point  on how to save yourself if you are swept away. )

If you're lucky, you can escape the beach without the naturally occurring tar coming ashore sticking to your feet or shoes. (never go here without Googone!), or if you're into canoe making, collect it to seal your craft like the Chumash Indians did.

So what makes this the favorite place to camp beachfront in California for so many people? If you ask any one, "Do you know Jalama?" the people who do know it always say, "It's wonderful there!"

It's the beach where my children  long to go to. It's where they were allowed to roam freely and be independent while being safely gated by the beach camp itself.

They did their first ocean fishing here.

The dolphins, sea lions and sea otters frolic here and swim along the shore line to follow you. The whales can be seen migrating off the coast here.

We saw our first meteor that turned the night sky blue-purple -red - orange .
The nearby air force base flew practice runs of its Stealth fighter along the beach here. So close, that we could see the pilot.

It's the place we choose to spend precious vacation days at. It's one of the few places I know of that my beloved Captain Morgan can run freely, as far as you can see and not run into another person or dog. You feel as though you are the only one on the planet and can almost reach out and touch God.

I can sing out of pitch as loudly and as often as I want. I can scream, run, dance, frolic, all without judging eyes or  within ear shot of a living soul.

Our best camping memories are of Jalama. Relaxing, uninterrupted days, doing whatever I want, sleeping as much as I want, reading all day , painting, you name it. The days go by quickly.

I don't even have to cook if I choose to wander down to the Jalama store and buy a meal. (it just has to be before 6:30 pm).

Every person you talk to has another favorite story and experience.

We've seen strange and unusual people here. Had our longest laughs here and made lifetime memories. It's the home of Jalama Llama's, the Jalama dumpster fire, the BBQ flank steak disaster, the night the high winds encased our friends in a tent collapse and looked like sausage links, the great motor home BANG! and blow out.  The duct taped tent repair in hurricane force winds", The medical evac of a fallen skateboarder. Then, there's the weird camp neighbors named for their various background stories. . . "Bakersfield", "The Butcher", " The Obstetrician", "the Soon to be headless Drunk", "Jalami Salami", "Jalama Long Jugs",   "Sad and Alone", "Trunk full of dauchsunds", "California Bea", " Real Coke",

Many fine memories and many more to make in the coming years.

I encourage you to find your own little slice of heaven and revisit it as often as possible.

Journal your memories.

Here's to many more Jalama days on Jalama time!

Lost in IKEA

It's been a long time, years even, since we have visited an IKEA store.

There's something  inviting about the clean lines of the Sweeds, and touring the mini cube houses displayed there, and it's always nice to freshen up on my Sweedish now and then.

Our own home would have to be described as anything but modern or streamlined. I had an interior designer claim it was decorated in the Contemporary style. Perhaps this was a nice way of avoiding  saying it resembled "mid-century clutter" or "Hod-Podge Décor". All the same, visiting the Swiss store gives hope for some sort of mess management and clean living.
 

I have friends who make the IKEA trek yearly, spending an afternoon there, having lunch, enjoying Swedish meatballs and fish. Sorry. Passing on that experience, hating both, and throw in the tasteless cookies along with it. I'll just fill up on cheese and the cardboard like crackers.

As we drove into the parking lot of the Costa Mesa IKEA, we wondered if there was some sort of event occurring as there was no parking in the Disneyland sized parking lot. This just made us all the more determined to fight our way into the store to see what bargains we might be missing out on, and secured a parking spot only a block away from the entrance. We exited the car and followed the legions of people into the store. I picked up a stray cart on the way in to use as handbag carrier and walker. That was mistake 1.

There didn't seem to be a clear entrance into the store, and the elevator up didn't seem large enough for my enormous cart, so we made our way to the other end only to discover this was parcel pick up and no show room access. Back to the other end of the store and decide to cut through the check out ...Mistake 2.

We wander around these aisles for awhile, wondering where all the housewares and junk are?  Continuing our progress toward the expansive ground floor, we find our way going against the people flow until we finally find our way into the show rooms with the "good stuff". Mistake 3.

The place is packed. Obviously, this IS the event for families to visit IKEA on a Saturday afternoon. There are hundreds of people here, all pushing along various types of carts and bags. We are trying to find where the entrance to this place is. Obviously we have come the back way, continuing our meandering through the crowd and following the many exit arrows that indicate store flow, but doing it backwards.  Mistake 4.

We kept seeing stuff that we liked but passed on because we were determined to find the beginning and follow the arrows like we were supposed to. Mr. Man picks up a plastic squirt bottle and tosses it into the giant cart I'm clinging to and we continue our backward search. Tough shopping against the flow of the people. Yes, we received many disdainful looks, but our determination to find the beginning buoyed after hearing a couple other shoppers ask sales people where the exit was or how to get out?  (Pride kept us from asking where the entrance was) Mistake 5.

Mr. Man suggests we start marking knotches in furniture so we'll know if we came this way before. After more than 30 minutes of this upstream fight, we find an area full of shopping carts like I have. A helpful lady asks if we would like one. "NO!" I abandon my cart, and the spray bottle and we progress up to a second floor where we find the beginning of this massive place.

Thankfully the restaurant, rest rooms and more baskets reside here. We have arrived. Reset the mind to start again after taking a break . NOW we are doing it right. As we make the show room rounds, admiring how streamlined and clean every thing looks, we decide this is never going to be us. The aisles are like the 91 freeway, and clog to full stop. Screaming children demanding stuffed monkeys and plastic colorful cups. I'm ready to call it a day.  Exiting,  following the arrows.

 

Passing up all the glass ware, bedding, pillows that appear flat before they're ever used and furniture that requires assembly.  We pass a knotched  wall divider. Mr. Man claims we've been here before, yet it doesn't look familiar from this direction. Pushing our way downstream, we finally get the store flow. Oh, and there's a map of how to find stuff......at the beginning! THAT would have been a useful little pamphlet. 

Seeing the exit light ahead, we get to the cashiers. About 50 of them processing hundreds of people pushing giant cart loads of everything. IKEA doesn't have bags. You have to purchase them. No problem . We don't need a bag. That spray bottle fits just fine in my left hand!

Total time in IKEA- 1 hour , 20 minutes.
Time spent lost- 30 minutes.
Total amount purchase- $.99
Time of planned return- 3 years, or until I learn to like fish paste. . . (smorgaskaviar) 

Note to self. ......... re-read this BLOG!

A little stroll through the south.

I have just returned from a little trip to the south. Starting in Virginia, we drove down to Charleston, SC , then to Savannah, Georgia and ended up in Pensacola, Florida.  The trip was to incorporate as many new sites  as we could during the recent naval relocation of my flying sea monkey.

We took the poor man's tour in Charleston and acquired a AAA travel book with a detailed walking route outlined in it. We found parking easily and only 2 blocks from where the tour began. The book was handy with its detailed information about the historic significance of the buildings and the various sights. It was a pleasant adventure, and one we could share with my grand-dog. After hour 2, the heat became stifling and we were out of water. Only 95 degrees. No biggie. We stopped in a memorial park and sat in the shade, but the panting just got worse. Luckily, the Charleston Historic Preservation Society was across the street. The ladies there welcomed us into the very nice store, giving us water, snack, and restroom access. The place was air conditioned to 68 degrees. A delightful place. I stopped panting. . . .and so did the dog. I credit them for saving me from heat stroke. We weren't really on a time schedule, but needed to be in Savannah before dark so we could find our way. 

On the road from Charleston to Savannah, I began counting the number of exploded tires left along the roadside. Some were intact, some were shredded tread. To be sure, there is some problem with tires and southern road touring. From Charleston to Savannah, I counted 107 "dead tires". Unbelievable luck of the motorists to lose a tire out there in the middle of the freeway in the heat of the day! I began to worry about the state of our tires and we became determined not to be numbered amongst the dead tire count!

Arriving in Savannah was like driving up to a movie set. The trees dripping with the Spanish moss, the steamy streets and the smell of the grasses. The many homes with wrought iron gates and balconies were beautiful. We had a bucket list of things to see and do here and only 1 1/2 days to do it all. We got started right off the bat and drove through all the historic districts, narrated by the AAA tour guide book, and found ourselves eating dinner at Leopold's ice cream parlor. Who doesn't love ice cream for dinner? Totally worth the wait. The line went out the door and to the corner  , but it went fast. We tasted 6 flavors and settled on 2.

We took a paid guided walking tour with Savannah Dan. He is a native to Savannah and grew up with a passion for the city's history. We did a 2 hour walking tour around 4 of the town squares, hearing the in depth history about the residents who walked these same streets in the 1700's.

 

During one of the stops for a lecture, a young lady fell flat on her face, overcome by the heat of the day. My brain switched to nurse mode, but not as fast as the sea monkey's. She thrust her tote bag, back pack, camera, and dog into my arms and ran over to the fallen girl. Proud of her as she acted as a first responder, and seeing that the girl was pale but breathing, I stayed back with the bags and the barking dog. Sea Monkey got the pleasure of removing the chewing gum out of the girls mouth and checking for pulse. Cool cloths were applied to her head and neck as her parents, who had been walking around with her, removed frozen water bottles from their packs and strategically placed them on their fallen daughter. 9-1-1 was called, and Savannah Dan continued his lecture, admonishing us to  drink water and wear a hat.

The group of us stood there and enjoyed a liter of water each before continuing.

My Sea Monkey was put out because I didn't beat her to the dropped girl . I explained that somebody filled my arms with bags, cameras and barking pets, so I would get the "next one".

I think we covered Savannah well for the amount of time we had. Surely there was more to see and do, however the heat of the afternoon was prohibitive. Definitely enjoyed the tour of the Juliette Gordon Lowe house, founder of the Girl Scouts. So many years of our life were spent supporting and acting as Scouts.

Our trips end to Pensacola, Florida was uneventful except for the 96 degrees weather accompanied by torrential downpour bordering on hurricane force.



Definitely will be heading to the south again. We were told a week after our visit that our Charleston walk was on the hottest recorded day so far. So now I can claim I survived and didn't have heat stroke.  The people were lovely and friendly. I surely wished we had been able to be there in the Fall or spring when its cooler.

So IF you go, wear your hat, drink lots of water and try to seek out the shade from the many trees lining the streets. And really absorb some of that southern food and southern charm.