This afternoon's activity wasn't quite as daunting as our morning excursion--nor was it as important--so brace yourself for some comedic moments..and maybe a little taste of history class.
Only eight of us booked the trip called "Natchez Trails and Tamales", which meant we got to know everyone on the small white bus instead of the crowded luxury coach.
We even met honeymooners from Utah--finally, a couple who are younger than us!--but you never know.
The Grey Mafia sat this one out(maybe they stayed on the boat for Bingo?) and that suited me just fine.
"I bet Florida Man isn't too happy about today's indictment," Jim offers when the news broke.
"I bet he does anal twice a month" I respond.
Back to the excursion description.
We were introduced to our effervescent guide, Chrissy, who tells us that part of the trip, sampling tamales at the mansion, had to be cancelled because of a gas leak.
I ask Jim if he thinks the gas leak was caused BY the tamales.
"Don't worry," Chrissy assures us. "We'll still get tamales. At one of the best places in Natchez, "Fat Mama's"
"Photo op!" Jim squeals, excitedly.
"You're lucky I have enough self esteem to let all of my friends reading this know that I am not apologetic for being..a mama"
"So you're okay?" he asks.
"We're a couple of Yanks going to a restaurant in the South that's not part of a tour. I'm hopin' we're not shot at"
The tour started off kind of lame, reading a bunch of plaques at the community center(if I wanted to read, I have a balcony with spectacular views and a very neglected Kindle, thank you very much) and then spending more money at the old Trading Post.
Once we were seated at the long wooden table at Fat Mama's, sharing margaritas and tamales, we became one big happy family, although Chrissy assured me that I was not THAT big..at least, not by Southern standards.
"We gals like to eat"
(They also like their Miss America titles)
Chrissy, who is slim and petite, worked in a popular Natchez Hotel as a kid, when actor Hal Holbrook walked in one day, asking for directions to "Nellie's" which is one of the most popular brothels in the south.
He claimed to be going to join his cast and crew, but he was dressed as Abraham Lincoln.
Maybe if he had won that popular vote instead of just the electoral college he wouldn't be seeking validation from Miss Nellie?
We drove by all the mansions here, the trees, and the one synagogue in town..near the mansion of the Jewish doctor.
(His home was in front of a sign that read, I swear to you, "Christian Schwartz")
(Made me think of Rob Morrow's "Joel Fleishman" from "Northern Exposure")
Our last stop was the magnificent antebellum mansion, Magnolia Hall, that smelled just like the antebellum mansion in Vickburg--it smelled like lavender and expensive wood and money.
We were fortunate because they are preparing for a gala ball this weekend for some Patriotic Mothers of Something or Other.
So?
So what if we saw some stray ladders and workers, we also saw tables set so beautifully that they gleamed, with crystal goblets and fine silver plated utensils.
We saw antique dolls in cases and wicker rocking chairs that made you believe you were smack in the middle of your favorite PBS drama.
We saw a room of just dresses--ruffles and lace and tight corsets that teens should be considering for their upcoming proms.
As we walked by a particularly comfortable looking four poster bed,I said to Jim, "look at those steps. They look like the stairs Luke used as a puppy, when he was trying to get on our mattress so he could destroy the bedding."
Chrissy flips open a lid and tells us, "oh no..these are not stairs!" and everyone grins as we make our way to the next ornate bedroom.
"They're not?" I ask. "What is it..some kind of old ..phonograph?"
Chrissy laughs and says, "no..something much more important than a phonograph. This is actually a very convenient ...chamber pot"
To which my clever husband responds, "maybe it's a combination phonograph AND chamber pot..but it only plays.."Muddy Waters."
Yeah, we all cracked up.
Except those poor souls who got the runs from Fat Mamas tamales.
Off to hear a husband and wife banjo team.
As always, thanks for your comments.
They inspire me to keep writing!
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