Saturday, August 7, 2010

St. Francisville Jaunt

Dante, Mike, Kearney, and I are all piled up on the green couch this morning, a creepy ghost movie on the TV, a cup of coffee perched precariously on the arm rest, the comics in Mike's hand, a baby wriggling happily in my belly, and Dante's head resting peacefully in the crook of my arm. It's a nice morning.

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, and as per usual, I'm sorry for not keeping up with it here. I suppose as I enjoy writing, this blog is somewhat of a luxury for me. But years down the road, I'll wish I had written more. Last night our good friend Jessica told us about her friend who sets up spa expenses as part of their family budget because it makes her a nicer person. I like that idea. So I made a new entry every week on my calendar - "BLOG!!!" - and maybe now since I've carved time out (I mean, really, as luxuries go, this one is pretty cheap.), you'll hear more from me.

Meanwhile, we need to catch up.

How about I start with Mike's recent dispatch down to St. Francisville, Louisiana, to work at the power plant? He had a project to do that had a somewhat indefinite period of time dedicated to it, but I thought it would be a fun adventure to join him. It always is.

When we first arrived in the pretty little town, we stopped by Grace Church, where we walked through the cemetery and took a few photos. It was a neat experience, walking amongst the peaceful dead and feeling our little life kicking and squirming at the same time.

The next day, I dropped Mike off at work and set off exploring on my own. I started off at the Main Street and enjoyed the architecture.

The rest of the week was spent bumping along backroads of Louisiana and the Mississippi border. I really felt the baby kick while I was driving, and I found myself talking to him in the car.

The rest of the trip was rather uneventful - just scene after beautiful scene of majestic live oaks, bucolic fields, and ancient architecture. A big craving for fried chicken raised its ugly head, and boy, were we in luck! I subjected Mike to some of the best fried chicken in the world: first at Eight Sisters Kitchen in St. Francisville, and then at the Old Country Store in Lorman, Mississippi.

That was a trip.

We arrived early for supper - around 5:15 - and once we walked through the doors of the 130-year-old establishment, we were transported back in time. Mr. D. and an employee were sitting at a table and asked how they could help us. I explained that we were looking for some fried chicken. They were unfortunately not open for supper yet, but Mr. D. set us up with some to-go boxes to take home with us.

I was in heaven.

Daisy would agree that this stuff is almost as good as hers. Which makes it currently the best fried chicken in the known universe.



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