March 9- I didn't write about March 8 because Pensacola Beach was hell. As usual, folks in resort towns are not so nice, probably because they know that people will come to see their town's assets in any case. It was also a record cold temperature, but that would not have hurt so bad if the folks had been nice. The heater in the room spewed out a fetid gas smell all night and in the morning, they sent a maintenance worker. He said it wasn't actually on fire, so he saw nothing wrong with it. It is gorgeous, but even the clerk at the hotel held back my checkout papers because she didn't like my attitude. Okay, so we're off to Jackson, Mississippi. On the way, we crossed through L.A. (Lower Alabama :)), and stopped at a truck stop. I love truck stops. They fixed our CB radio, (they charged us nothing for the work), we bought all kinds of things to make the trip more comfortable, an up to date road map, Velcro, grapefruit juice and I noticed a number written on the counter with the words "puppy found". Last night, on the way to Pensacola, we stopped for gas and noticed a sign that said "puppy lost". I checked, and sure enough, the description matched. I left a message on their machines, and now we are anxiously awaiting the results. I'll let you know. (See March 12)
Onward to Jackson, and on the road we found one of those charming fruit stands, among the goodies were bottles of ribbon cane and sorghum. Now I know what sorghum is, it's like molasses.