A-Typical male's journal.

For some reason, it was really important for me to pack the car. I don't know why, some latent macho gene, I guess. I asked Azura to let me do it, and she started helping. I asked her to hold her horses, when I put one of the chairs in the car (just checking the fit!) and she told me that wouldn't work.

Hey! I knew that, I was just checking. I don't think I was overly gruff, but she went inside and let me do it. Her grandfather, who was kind of watching asked me, "Was she giving you advice?"

I nodded, "Yep." and grinned.

He told me, conspiratorially, "I have the same problem with her Grandmother. When She watched this show on TLC about upholstering chairs, and when I re-upholstered the den chairs, she kept on me. I was doing it my way, not the TV way, ya know."

I smiled, understanding. Azura and I don't get in each other's hair much. We know when to step aside, and let the other do it. She's pretty stubborn, like the time she changed the car battery (it was stuck, she spent hours on it, but got it done). I was for calling a mechanic. She had made it a personal vendetta. I went inside and left her to it. No sense in hovering.

It did pay off though, I got all but my briefcase and the tree into the trunk (they gave us a small potted tangelo tree). And of course, everyone was impressed with my packing abilities. Even Azura's grandparents.

It comes to me now, why I wanted to do it. Every time we'd go to my grandparents for christmas, or thanksgiving or what not, Dad would pack the car. Of course, there was always more coming back with us than went down, especially at Christmas. Dad would get mad, pull everything out of the car, and get it packed--somehow.

Then Mom would appear with a bush, or a bag of pine cones. Dad would say, "Where are we going to put that?!?" and Mom would say, "I'll put it at my feet" Dad would growl and vow that she wouldn't do that. Then he'd pull everything out and do it again.

Dad was a master packer. I'm not sure how he did it, but I'm sure somehow, visiting my Love's grandparents triggered the 'packing urge'. I'm sure Dad would be proud.

Since Memphis is on the Mississippi River, Azura wanted to look around for a riverboat casino. I remembered that in St.Louis I had seen advertisements, so I reluctantly agreed to this. I really don't like gambling...I can think of other ways to spend my entertainment money. I made and agreement that we'd only spend 40 dollars, and no more. I could live with that, since I expected to walk out of there empty handed.

We each took 20 dollars, half in half-dollars, half in quarters. The half-dollars were gone fast, like I expected. The quarters though, took awhile. I was almost out, but Azura was doing pretty good, so she gave me some quarters. I watched how she was doing things, and started copying her. I eventually won our biggest jackpot: 320 credits! Since it was a quarter machine, that's 80 bucks. I was ready to leave right then, but Azura wanted to go a bit more, so we did. When we finally relaxed, and sidled up to the counter, we had 56 dollars. Sixteen went for our lunch/dinner, and we slid a few dollars in the dollar machine. We pretty much broke even, which seemed right, somehow.

When we finally left Memphis, thought, it was dark. We drove another hour, and Azura suggested we find a place to stop soon. She was getting a bit tired, and we would have the whole next day to travel. So, we started looking.

The southern route wasn't an interstate, but a country road that winds from county seat to county seat. Because they aren't really meant for the traveller, but just the locals, there aren't many motels. The motels that do exist, are typically small town, one-shot affairs. While they were probably fine, since we are city people, we don't stay in non-chain motels. Why? Well, when you are in the city non-chain motels are always dumps--they might even rent by the hour, if you know what I mean. So, we are predisposed against them.

We made an agreement to stop in Sapphire, but there wasn't anything to speak of there. A lady at a convenience store told me th ere was a Comfort Inn ahead, and so we sped on our way. It turned out to be a "Komfort Motel" so we drove on by.

I was worried we'd have to drive all the way to Pulaski, which was halfway (and would have been easy, but for our side trip). There was an Interstate there, and I suspected a motel as well. But, in the town right before that, there was a Best Western sign, so we diverted and drove to it. We'd stayed in a Best Western in Mountain Home, so we figured they would allow pets.

I had Azura pull up next to the door, then I saw the 'NO Pets' sign. I sighed, but something told me to go in and ask if they knew where we could go. The Hotel manager asked me, "How big a dog is it?" I told her, "he's small," and gestured with my arms. "He doesn't chew furniture, does he?" I smiled and shook my head. "No, he's a good dog. I'm a cat person, and I even like him," I said. That's my standard line about Dickens.

She must have looked out at the car, when she said. "OH, I see him. Look at those ears." Then I knew we were in.

The hotel room was much nicer than the one in Mountain Home.

Generic Joe's A Typical Male