We are back on the road again really this time. We hopped on the ferry - absolutely zero wait time, I might add. Didn’t even have a full load. Where are all the Spring Breakers? - and headed East. I know. We’ve gone that way before. But never with an eye to attend spring training with the Astros.
When’s the last time you have driven I10 headed east (and not near Houston)? We got embroiled in some construction detours, and it put us smack in the line of fire of some wildlife. In fact, they were everywhere. Virtually lining the side of the road, as if waiting for a break in traffic so they could make a break for it. Oh, and what wildlife would that be? Turtles. Be careful of the turtles.
Once we crossed over into Louisiana, we stopped at the welcome center. Pleasant surprise. They had a full-blown nature trail carved around a pretty large fishing pond. Or maybe it was just a cleared-out portion of marsh. There were several folks fishing, though. One was determined he was going to catch some catfish. He may have been using the wrong bait, though. The Cajun-speaking guy with the really shaggy, long beard and Astros cap told him the real bait of choice was what he used. Not taking the old guy seriously, the fisherman asked what that bait was. Answer? A bagful of mice. The fisherman suddenly had a profound new level of respect for the old dude.
We found a great place for supper in Port Allen, Louisiana. Sam’s Southern Eatery. It was the definition of a hole in the wall joint. Next door to a casino. Literally - they shared a door for “extra seating.” But they had fried chicken livers. And fried okra. Chris said I need to eat less fried stuff. I said OK. When we get home …
Jude 1:22 says, Have mercy on those who doubt.
Father, thank you for old faithfuls on new adventures. I sure do like chicken livers. Amen.
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