7:20 PM |
I am officially a hacker-in-training. Well not really. But I expect some of it is easier than it might first appear.I am in Nova Scotia uploading photos through Dropbox, i.e., soon to be huge company because Photostream doesn't work. There is a public folder. It is not mine. Can't resist. Not only is there a document named Bank, but it contains every account, user name and password this company has. Another document has all the IP addresses for its internal network. And business plans. And medical photos. I presume the latter belong to the user and they are not from a demented serial killer. Didn't look at them. Couldn't. Also found a ton of files from a company that actually SELLS information technology services.
So whatta you do? Copied bank numbers just because it was fun. Logged into bank. Ditto. I think I am a criminal. I don't think I've ever been a criminal before. Well, okay, stole this picture off of evolution of hacking site. This guy's name is in folder name, like Joe Smith's Folder. By contents of folder find out the name of the company he works for. Email him there, suggesting to change bank accounts. Another folder has a bunch of stuff for, shall we say, a medical practice. Emailed them through Contact Us on web site. I left my real name and email. Since the company is apparently a client of theirs, I think it will be, well, startling when they get my message. Done my white hat thing for the day. But boy is this fun.
Note to self: Delete all documents titled Bank. Future note to self: Delete all documents.
I am in Canada. During football season. They have Canadian football here. The only thing I know about Canadian football is that you play it if you can't get into the NFL. Canadian football has a longer field, only three downs and some other stuff I don't remember. The Eagles once had a kicker from the Canadian football league. He was good. Still NEED to watch my Eagles.
You ever try to watch the NFL on your iPad? Don't. You will pay AT&T a fortune just with all the googling you have to do. Also, it is illegal. There was a good way to do it through a site called frontrowseats. You have to download some kind of browser-video-converter-or-something app to do this. Followed directions from random blogger. Feel very sneaky. I don't even illegally download music. This is what frontrowseats looks like now. Hope they don't track browsing.Here is your option: subscribe to NFL Sunday Ticket. You have to subscribe to DirecTV. I once had DirecTV and they put screws into my cedar shake roof. When we got finally got Fios out here in the country, called DirecTV to uninstall. They left the dish on the roof. Oh no you don't. Took dish. Left screws and holes in roof. Fixed it 6 years later. Now wait. Maybe it was Dish. Don't remember. Anyhow, I want to get NFL Sunday Ticket even though it costs $250. You have to swear that you don't subscribe to DirecTV, cannot get a signal for DirecTV as you do not have proper line of sight, and cannot get DirecTV in your neighborhood. I lie. Well maybe I don't like because I may have had Dish.
And for those of you that think there's a different way, don't get a new (or whatever they call it) iPad. Verizon doesn't work on it. You'da thunk that nearly a whole football season after the release they'd figure it out. Note to self: check to see if still have iPad 2. Another note to self: don't bother. Already paid $250 to DirecTV. Last note to self: don't ever EVER leave home during football season again.
Going on a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost tour. I do not like tours. I do like Rolls Royce Silver Ghosts. In Quebec. Well, anywhere really. Staying in a hotel I cannot afford. Le Chateau Frontenac. It is not the Repotel which if you think about it sorta looks like Repo-tel. Mortgage gone bad? I do love that the rooms at the (excuse me, Le) Chateaux Frontenac are teeny because most people bitch about it and I do not. Also, they are on very long halls that remind me of The Shining. Bet it is really creepy here in the winter.
They get 10 to 12 feet of snow in Quebec and it is sometimes 40 below Centigrade. That is also 40 below Fahrenheit, the only time that happens. The number of degrees below zero is the percent the local fast food is discounted on that day. I know that because Francois told me so. This is Francois. I know you can't see him in this photo. Neither can I. Live with it. More on Francois later.
This is the Fairmont Chateau Frontenac. I did not take this picture because I only take hotel pictures when they pertain to amenities or hygiene. The Silver Ghosts are not allowed to park in the courtyard. They must be in the garage where there is no light so you cannot see in your engine. You must pray that your engine is A-OK.
This is the view from my room. It would be very nice except there is construction outside (at the entrance to the garage where the Rolls Royces are) and the glass is dirty like in an old person's old condo. I hate dirty things. The little door on the air conditioner where you reach the dial to fix the temperature is really dirty inside. I hate that because you get dust in your air which is not ideal especially since you have dust in your Rolls Royce. Otherwise, this old place is clean, clean, clean. 
This is the wastebasket in the bathroom. It does not have a plastic bag which I usually swear by because the guy before you may have put something nasty in there. But this one is so clean you don't need a plastic bag. On the second day of my stay, there was a little white paper circle in the bottom of the thing. I must have put something nasty in there and they are protecting the next guy. Dental floss?
Back to Francois. Francois is a tour guide. He was a sports writer for the hockey team before it moved to Denver. Francois went to Leval (I think that's it. sp?) University for sports writing. He has now recycled himself (his words) as a tour guide and bus driver. He has been doing this for a long time. This is Francois leading a tour. One of the things I love about Francois is that he can trace his heritage in the Toilettes. Well kinda. Francois says that people from a certain area all have the same last name. This is like all New Yorkers being Jonses and all Texans being Smith. Quebec is 90 percent white, 90 percent Catholic and 90 percent French. That is why they have so little crime. Hey, Francois said it, not me. 
Anyhow, Francois can trace is family 8 generations back. Quebec was founded in 1608. Francois said that is important. He never said why. Anyhow, we can see Francois' family memorialized in a plaque in the hall of the public Toilette. This is Francois' family plaque. They are Pares. I thought Paree was Paris, but what the heck. This is the Paree plaque in the Toilettes.
I hate cities. This is why. There is a cruise ship docked here. I do not go to places cruise ships go. This is the same place but with the black lines that outline where Montgomery's house was. There was a lot of fighting between the English and the French in Quebec. I guess the French won.
This is a fire walls on a roof. As I said, hey have a lot of fires in Quebec.
This is a very nice mural. You can see all four seasons in it.
This is a shop sign. I love this shop sign, well you know.
This is the stairs from this part of Quebec. it's old but it's not because it was all rebuilt after a fire forty years ago. Not sure if the fire was forty years ago but I guess it doesn't really matter because they have so many fires here. The stairs go to the (I mean Le) Chateaux Frontenac. There are at least 500 and they are called the spine breakers because that's what happens if you fall. As you know, I have a tendency to fall even on flat ground, but Ron-The-Hun is not going to be happy if I do not exercise. I take the stairs. I live.
Back in the room, peruse room service menu. The prices range from 45 to 230. That's a lot of money for an assortment of fruits or a bowl of popcorn (you can have your own movies night right in your room!). Cannot figure it our. This is the room service menu. Turns out that I really need my glasses, because if you look really closely, the 5s are really $s. You can have vegan, macrobiotic, gluten-free, diabetic, cardiac or raw menus. Really. If you want a Japanese breakfast, you have to allow an hour and a half. Also true.
Wander into a meeting area by mistake. Skinny girls in black suits (and later black cocktail dresses) snap that I must be in the wrong place. Look up. This is a thing put on by Juvederm. You know, fillers. The stuff that the Real Housewives have. I do not look like a plastic surgeon. I do not belong here. Bitch.
Enjoy Rose 51 lotion with flip-top cap. I think Rose 51 is a good brand here. Note to self: ask someone discretely if Rose 51 is a good brand. Do not ask skinny bitch.
Have you ever been to the Betty Ford Center? I have. For someone else. Really. I know you don't believe that but really. It's very nice to make my first personal glimpse at rehab. I have been feeling totally out of the loop because I don't know Lindsay Lohan. But I have seen her father on Celebrity Rehab. Now I am part of the It crowd. Well sorta. Not staying 28 days. Don't know the serenity prayer. Anyhow, Betty Ford is really nice and not at all what I expected. There are a million doctors and psychiatrists and psychologists and specialists. They are all very nice. The place is gorgeous, with manicured grounds sporting a desert chic vibe. That's all you need to know. Do not go there.
This is a picture of Joshua Tree National Park. I did not take it. I wanted to use a picture of the landscaping at Betty Ford but they are very very private. Anyhow, the landscaping has this feeling. Also we drove by Joshua Tree on the way there.
This is a picture of Joshua Tree National Park. I did not take it. I wanted to use a picture of the landscaping at Betty Ford but they are very very private. Anyhow, the landscaping has this feeling. Also we drove by Joshua Tree on the way there.
- If the Eagles had lost in the same situation that the Packers had, we would not be happy campers. Think effigy burnings. Especially of Juan Castillo (although I think he is underrated. So sue me). In Green Bay they're, like, go get 'em next year.
- Joe Paterno is not dead (he is).
- The defense is too small.
- Oh, yeah, here is the line on today's playoffs.
Of course, football will be back on February 5th when we break out the Cheez Whiz. Throw a jar of salsa in with it. Throw jar of salsa at TV. It's all good.
Spirits. This is what they call distilled alcohol if it is not moonshine. There have been lots of spirits in the newspapers lately. This morning there was a whole article on allowing "craft distillers" in Pennsylvania to sell their bottles at the tasting places at the fancy distilleries. Buy local. Locavores. Whatever. I like anything that gets you relatively blotto that I don't have to buy at the Pennsylvania Liquor Authority stores. Witness Maker's Mark Mint Julep right from the Kentucky source. Also Jack Daniels (Tennessee) although that is rather plebeian. Pennsylvania thinks that spirits tastings will bring tourism dollars to the state. I'm not sure we want tasting and driving visitors. Anyhow, the Inky says that on-site tasting coupled with the annual distillery licensing fee (from $5,600 to $1,500) "just might be the economic incentive needed to make Pennsylvania a new focal point for growth in a national movement toward sartisoan alcohol that's expanding exponentially on the heels of the craft-beer craze". Also there are only three micro-distillers that make a total of 100,000 gallons. Betcha any good 'shiner can make that in a year with only one guy and cousin Rascal. I can just see the job posting at the state place you have to go before you can claim unemployment. "Professional Booze Taster. Must have experience."
There's a potato vodka guy who worked to pass the bill. Must not have a lot of distilling to do. He is convinced that it's going to make Pennsylvania a "craft distilling hub." In Portland there is a place called Distillery Row that attracts bus tourists. They have more than 20 spirits in just that city which is 17 more than Pennsylvania. Turns out that Maxwelton, West Virginia, Smooth Ambler Spirits is just nine miles from the Greenbrier. Damn. First I missed the apple pie 'shine and now I miss Smooth Ambler Spirits. Smooth Ambler sells their "high valley mountain air" story and "friendly folks" behind a small-production "grain-to-glass" spirit as made by "local artisans," according to the Inky. As far as I'm concerned, my 'shiners are the real local artisans and damn good entrepreneurs, not to mention real West Virginia folk and not University of Virginia graduates. Shine on.
This is Smooth Ambler's Exceptional White Whisky. "Sophisticated moonshine." Are you kidding me? Note to self: renew search for horse guy to set me up with some apple pie.
There's a potato vodka guy who worked to pass the bill. Must not have a lot of distilling to do. He is convinced that it's going to make Pennsylvania a "craft distilling hub." In Portland there is a place called Distillery Row that attracts bus tourists. They have more than 20 spirits in just that city which is 17 more than Pennsylvania. Turns out that Maxwelton, West Virginia, Smooth Ambler Spirits is just nine miles from the Greenbrier. Damn. First I missed the apple pie 'shine and now I miss Smooth Ambler Spirits. Smooth Ambler sells their "high valley mountain air" story and "friendly folks" behind a small-production "grain-to-glass" spirit as made by "local artisans," according to the Inky. As far as I'm concerned, my 'shiners are the real local artisans and damn good entrepreneurs, not to mention real West Virginia folk and not University of Virginia graduates. Shine on.
This is Smooth Ambler's Exceptional White Whisky. "Sophisticated moonshine." Are you kidding me? Note to self: renew search for horse guy to set me up with some apple pie.
It is 19 degrees. It is time to peruse the seed catalogs and pretend it may get warmer sometime this year. I always get those Val-Pak kinda things with lots of postcards to fill in to get free catalogs as I have been targeted as someone who gardens. So have a bunch of other people. People who buy Hover-rounds (or however you spell it). I'm trying to understand how gardeners can be Hover-rounders. Hmmm. I do know that there is plant therapy at some nursing homes so that could be it. However, the Val-Pack or whatever also has a really great postcard: Take Full Control! ... with a Magnatrac. Become More Self-Sufficient! Conquer "impossible jobs"! Now this is a Hover-round for me. It is a front-end loader. Really. Note to self: order fava bean seeds and Magnatrac. This is a Magnatrac.
As an Eagles fan, I am delighted to find the topmost headline in the Philadelphia Inquirer to be Reid keeps job as Eagles coach. This is above Down to Wire in Iowa, although the latter is in larger type and has a picture. Continuing in Section A is Andy Reid still loved... by some. This is next to U.S. seeks closer ties in Egypt and Libya moves toward new constitution. The New York Times top headline is U.S. Overtures to Islamists Reverse a Longtime Policy and I can't even find the Sports section. By all accounts, football is a very serious matter in Philadelphia.
This is Andy Reid with his boss Jeffrey Lurie. By the way, the Dream Team ended the season 8-8 and I have not put my windsock back up.
As reported a while ago, the Peeps guys bought Goldenberg's Peanut Chews. Goldenberg's Peanut Chews are objectively not particularly yummy. But I love them and so do a lot of other people. They are pretty devoid of sugar and pretty much any other flavor but they have that satisfying stick-to-your-teeth texture but not too soft. Well, Peeps thought it would do the corporate thing and expand, expand, expand. There was a new wrapper for the national audience. It didn't say Goldenberg's. Didn't go so well. Now they are going back to the Mid-Atlantic where they belong. Much of the old wrapper is back but with a liberty bell around the barcode (huh?).
This is the original wrapper. Grand and dignified.
This is the "national wrapper". Pure video game appeal. Looks like something sour and/or pop-y and/or hot that your kid buys with the money his grandmother snuck him. 
This is the new old wrapper. It also has nothing to do with the original wrapper. Alas.
I must admit, though, that the ads are pretty good, at least for someone of my, uh, longevity.
Note to Peeps: Stick to Liberty Bell marshmallow thingies if you must.
The color of your Silver Ghost says an awful lot about you. On a rare occasion, it will have the original paint and if you are smart you will keep it just as is. It can only be original once. If you are restoring and are an absolute purist, you will repaint it the same color. If you are more-or-less a purist but hate the color, you will select another one which is "correct" as in it could have been that color. This is a slippery slope though because all the bodies are coach built and hypothetically can be any color. There are an awful lot of red ones.
And now we get into personal statements. I hang out at restoration shops a reasonable amount of time and when a really weird color combination appears it is usually the wife who has picked it out. The much younger, blonder second wife. although I must say that some really gaudy ones come from cigar-chomping wannabes.
In my case, I am trying to optimize what I have. This is what I started with (except the doors had red striping on them which is in another picture but that one has other changes in it, I have no ideas how there is no logical sequence here). It is pretty cigar-chomping, no?
This is what it looks like without the whitewalls. Note to self: name the damn car so that I don't have to always be calling it "it."You can see the red stripes here. This is what it looks like with no red stripes.
Next step. This is with black brake drums. Much better dontcha think? It looks like a Rolls Royce. Just a few more details. This is the back of "it." See how the bracket for the trunk is red? It will be black. So will the battery box and the tool box which are the things hanging down from the running boards. 
Here are the wheels. Now your see why I really liked my birthday gift
Today I am 52. How did that happen? Phone call tally:
This is what I got for my birthday: chainsaw and 4 wheels for the Silver Ghost. Just what I wished for. Really. Although I can't lift the damn chainsaw. It also came with 6 hours of chainsawing so I guess that's okay. This is not me. My chainsaw is bigger.
- Best friend- yes
- Ex-husband- yes
- Step-mother- yes, although I think this was under duress because someone must have been reminding her
- Father- conditional yes, had to ask step-mother to put him on
- Sister- no
- Kid- left message late in evening I think because his father reminded him countless times
Facebook greetings: lots and lots. Note to self: take down Facebook page. It's creeping me out.
This is what I got for my birthday: chainsaw and 4 wheels for the Silver Ghost. Just what I wished for. Really. Although I can't lift the damn chainsaw. It also came with 6 hours of chainsawing so I guess that's okay. This is not me. My chainsaw is bigger.
Day 17. I have no idea where I am. Am supposed to be at a Hampton Inn & Suites. It is exactly exactly like the Comfort Suites with the two windows down to the decor and signage. Look for corporate link. There is none. At all. Does this decorator sell its services at hotel trade shows? What about "corporate identity"? I have no idea at all where I am. Hello, management. I have no idea where I am. Get it? The only hotel that is markedly different is the Ramada Whatever that I wholeheartedly reject for hit parade. At 50% more money than anywhere else, it has no hot breakfast (not that I eat it anyhow as I am more for carbs that are a waste of calories) and one of the guests was in the breakfast area with a shower cap on. It is not genteel. Ubiquitous decorator will not help. Also bad fung sui with with the head of the bed two feet from toilet. What can you expect from Huntington WV though?
Palm is still itchy from bee sting but you cannot put cortisone cream on itchy palm and then try to steer. Also, I think an itchy palm says that money will be coming your way. Or that you masturbate too much. Oh, that's hairy palms. Sting has a scab on it and remember I have not been scratching. Can't let go of the steering wheel. It is about as big as a wire hanger's diameter. While that may not seem big, for a bee sting it definitely is.
Delighted that case of Maker's Mark Mint Julep is still in Woody. This was the first time I worried. Hit I-whatever. Couldn't do it. Plus I am hungry and there is never anything good to eat on an I-whatever. Plus the time changed so I'm not sure whether it is breakfast or lunch time or something in between. Check map and see that the I-whatever goes northeast and then southeast forming an upside down vee. There is a road that goes straight east and from what I can tell it cuts off about an hour of driving. And it is one of those littler roads that has good food on it. Also notice that has dotted line scenic route notation. Find out it is the Midland Trail. Hit Route 70. Route 70 goes along the river and is gorgeous until the towns of Rand, DuPont and Belle. Belle is not belle at all. There are some kind of factories or chemical plants or whatever all along the river. I understand the historical necessity of the location (water transportation and whatever raw materials are used) but I am stunned. I cannot get over the stark contrast between the natural beauty and industrial blight. There is a ball field with a sign on it that sits amongst huge rusting dump trucks. I am not sure this is scenic. Get out of yucky towns and go look for nicer towns or at least nicer home cooking places or nicer anything. Get wish. With strings attached.
Yesterday saw a sign that said in big black spray paint We [heart] Our Hill. I do not [heart] hills toady. According to GPS I am only losing 15 minutes by taking this route. The river views have been stunning. However, Route 60 is not a straight road. It has switchbacks and 9% grades and grueling driving and no restaurants just like in West Virginia. Doh. This is West Virginia. Try to make best of West Virginia mountains. There are no restaurants in 120 miles of s-turns. No one here can afford to go to a restaurant. See abandoned buildings with new vinyl sign. It is/was a coal mine. Oh man. Didn't think about West Virginia coal. Only outraged about fracking. They do not have it good in West Virginia. There are some Discount Groceries and little Kwik/Stop/Mart/Shops but no Minis. And a whole lot of bars/taverns/places-to-drink. This is coal country when no coal is being mined. At least by union members. Stop for gas. T-shirt in window is black and has COAL on the back. Compelled to go outside and read front: 'Bout All I Know Is Mining, and www.remembertheminers.org in little letters. See Wreck-A-Mended. I have now lost nearly and hour according to smarty pants GPS.
Pass River Falls or Falls River which has an Inn that has been there since 1863 or something. It is very swanky and I do not stop. Amidst the general squalor during my ride see candle store, art pottery store and quilt shop. All very professional and all very out of place. Eventually get to Rupert. There are Rotary and Elks signs at town limits. The Rotarians and Elks must have to have someplace to meet so there must be a restaurant here somewhere. Go to MacDonald's due to desperate need to pee. Buy small french fries as it is my luck that if I buy lunch I will see the restaurant I am looking for on the next block. Google Rupert restaurants. MacDonald's. Try again even though I'm not sure that it's different this way but get Carriage Cafe that has review by guy who travels a lot for business and likes small town restaurants. He likes it. Put Carriage Cafe in GPS. It is three blocks away. Arrive At Destination On Left. There is no Carriage Cafe. Go up and back the two blocks several times and assume that the Spicy Tomato is where the Carriage Cafe was. I do not like pizza and pasta in my small town restaurants. I like home-peeled sweet potatoes. Pass Carriage something and screech to a stop. It is a produce place. Pass Carriage Realty. I am now six miles from the I-whatever. I could have just driven on the I-whatever and saved an hour. I am really really hungry.
Pass sign with Welcome Miners on it. They have 30 packs of Natural Light for $14.99. I think that is awfully cheap. They also have Linda's Restaurant. Home cooking. This is Linda's. This time I am smart and ask if I pay before or after I eat. After. Not the best fried chicken I have ever had but good ham. I wonder if this is country ham. Also amazing baked macaroni. It has bread crumbs and ham in it and no cheese. The scalloped potatoes are divine. Can't figure out why they are different from anything else on trip. Then it came to me. They have garlic in them. I have not had any garlic in anything I have eaten for over two weeks. This is my lunch plate at Linda's.
Linda has jet black-dyed puffy hair and a black apron on. She scoots in a booth next to a woman with her husband across the table. They gossip for my entire meal. Meanwhile I eat what I believe to be spice cake from a Styrofoam plate which is unusual for these kind of places. The plate I mean. At the next table is a man eating by himself and across the aisle is a woman eating by herself. The waitress and jack-of-all-trades asks Ruby if she needs more coffee. I go to pay. Not-Linda is crushing ice in a green cooler with embossed deer on it. She is crushing it with a hammer. Go to pay and not-Linda has to go back and get her breaker because the register is off again. Hits wrong breaker and lights flicker. Hits right breaker and I pay. Drive through back of small lot that is marked Exit. You go clean up to a white building and turn right into the alley. Right in front of you on the white building is a faded stick-the-letters-in-the-slots lighted sign that says Drive Thru Biscuits. Open 5 a.m. I am not sure if this is real or if it is a relic. Note to self: go to alley in back of Linda's in Rupert WV at 5 a.m. and see if there are biscuits.
Get into groove with truck. Need gas. Loose groove. Lots of trucks at this gas stop so get in groove with another truck. At I-someotherwhatever, trucks go one way and I go another. Blue truck honks at me. I honk back. It has been nice. Three more hours to Richmond to see sister and niece and nephew. Try to occupy mind with something and am largely unsuccessful. Get Tootsie Pops for quick sugar fix. Stay awake. Cannot find Hampton Inn. GPS has screwed me again. Figure it out but all the streets in Richmond are divided and I almost go into the wrong way side and get potentially get killed. Finally make several u-turns and am almost finding my way into Hampton Inn when I am stuck through 4 cycles of traffic lights with only double red arrows on left turn. Fuck it. Turn anyway. Asshole just coming down the road behind me yells "way to run the red light" like he has any idea how long I have been waiting. Get to hotel. Sister gets to hotel. Go for Vietnamese dinner. Having reentry problems. Head is spinning from talking to four people at one table. Have gifts for niece. Forget about nephew. Shit. Dash for "home." Look up remembertheminers. It is a big feel good for the mining companies but I appreciate miners and I should remember. Here is Mike Rowe talking about it:
We like Mike Rowe because of Deadliest Catch and if he likes miners I do too.
This is a nifty cammo hat you can buy from the Remember The Miners store. Note to self: order Remember The Miners hat.
By the way, I am in Virginia.
Here are places I like in West Virginia:
The Greenbrier
Here are places I do not like in West Virginia:
Everywhere else.
Palm is still itchy from bee sting but you cannot put cortisone cream on itchy palm and then try to steer. Also, I think an itchy palm says that money will be coming your way. Or that you masturbate too much. Oh, that's hairy palms. Sting has a scab on it and remember I have not been scratching. Can't let go of the steering wheel. It is about as big as a wire hanger's diameter. While that may not seem big, for a bee sting it definitely is.
Delighted that case of Maker's Mark Mint Julep is still in Woody. This was the first time I worried. Hit I-whatever. Couldn't do it. Plus I am hungry and there is never anything good to eat on an I-whatever. Plus the time changed so I'm not sure whether it is breakfast or lunch time or something in between. Check map and see that the I-whatever goes northeast and then southeast forming an upside down vee. There is a road that goes straight east and from what I can tell it cuts off about an hour of driving. And it is one of those littler roads that has good food on it. Also notice that has dotted line scenic route notation. Find out it is the Midland Trail. Hit Route 70. Route 70 goes along the river and is gorgeous until the towns of Rand, DuPont and Belle. Belle is not belle at all. There are some kind of factories or chemical plants or whatever all along the river. I understand the historical necessity of the location (water transportation and whatever raw materials are used) but I am stunned. I cannot get over the stark contrast between the natural beauty and industrial blight. There is a ball field with a sign on it that sits amongst huge rusting dump trucks. I am not sure this is scenic. Get out of yucky towns and go look for nicer towns or at least nicer home cooking places or nicer anything. Get wish. With strings attached.
Yesterday saw a sign that said in big black spray paint We [heart] Our Hill. I do not [heart] hills toady. According to GPS I am only losing 15 minutes by taking this route. The river views have been stunning. However, Route 60 is not a straight road. It has switchbacks and 9% grades and grueling driving and no restaurants just like in West Virginia. Doh. This is West Virginia. Try to make best of West Virginia mountains. There are no restaurants in 120 miles of s-turns. No one here can afford to go to a restaurant. See abandoned buildings with new vinyl sign. It is/was a coal mine. Oh man. Didn't think about West Virginia coal. Only outraged about fracking. They do not have it good in West Virginia. There are some Discount Groceries and little Kwik/Stop/Mart/Shops but no Minis. And a whole lot of bars/taverns/places-to-drink. This is coal country when no coal is being mined. At least by union members. Stop for gas. T-shirt in window is black and has COAL on the back. Compelled to go outside and read front: 'Bout All I Know Is Mining, and www.remembertheminers.org in little letters. See Wreck-A-Mended. I have now lost nearly and hour according to smarty pants GPS.
Pass River Falls or Falls River which has an Inn that has been there since 1863 or something. It is very swanky and I do not stop. Amidst the general squalor during my ride see candle store, art pottery store and quilt shop. All very professional and all very out of place. Eventually get to Rupert. There are Rotary and Elks signs at town limits. The Rotarians and Elks must have to have someplace to meet so there must be a restaurant here somewhere. Go to MacDonald's due to desperate need to pee. Buy small french fries as it is my luck that if I buy lunch I will see the restaurant I am looking for on the next block. Google Rupert restaurants. MacDonald's. Try again even though I'm not sure that it's different this way but get Carriage Cafe that has review by guy who travels a lot for business and likes small town restaurants. He likes it. Put Carriage Cafe in GPS. It is three blocks away. Arrive At Destination On Left. There is no Carriage Cafe. Go up and back the two blocks several times and assume that the Spicy Tomato is where the Carriage Cafe was. I do not like pizza and pasta in my small town restaurants. I like home-peeled sweet potatoes. Pass Carriage something and screech to a stop. It is a produce place. Pass Carriage Realty. I am now six miles from the I-whatever. I could have just driven on the I-whatever and saved an hour. I am really really hungry.
Pass sign with Welcome Miners on it. They have 30 packs of Natural Light for $14.99. I think that is awfully cheap. They also have Linda's Restaurant. Home cooking. This is Linda's. This time I am smart and ask if I pay before or after I eat. After. Not the best fried chicken I have ever had but good ham. I wonder if this is country ham. Also amazing baked macaroni. It has bread crumbs and ham in it and no cheese. The scalloped potatoes are divine. Can't figure out why they are different from anything else on trip. Then it came to me. They have garlic in them. I have not had any garlic in anything I have eaten for over two weeks. This is my lunch plate at Linda's.Linda has jet black-dyed puffy hair and a black apron on. She scoots in a booth next to a woman with her husband across the table. They gossip for my entire meal. Meanwhile I eat what I believe to be spice cake from a Styrofoam plate which is unusual for these kind of places. The plate I mean. At the next table is a man eating by himself and across the aisle is a woman eating by herself. The waitress and jack-of-all-trades asks Ruby if she needs more coffee. I go to pay. Not-Linda is crushing ice in a green cooler with embossed deer on it. She is crushing it with a hammer. Go to pay and not-Linda has to go back and get her breaker because the register is off again. Hits wrong breaker and lights flicker. Hits right breaker and I pay. Drive through back of small lot that is marked Exit. You go clean up to a white building and turn right into the alley. Right in front of you on the white building is a faded stick-the-letters-in-the-slots lighted sign that says Drive Thru Biscuits. Open 5 a.m. I am not sure if this is real or if it is a relic. Note to self: go to alley in back of Linda's in Rupert WV at 5 a.m. and see if there are biscuits.
Get into groove with truck. Need gas. Loose groove. Lots of trucks at this gas stop so get in groove with another truck. At I-someotherwhatever, trucks go one way and I go another. Blue truck honks at me. I honk back. It has been nice. Three more hours to Richmond to see sister and niece and nephew. Try to occupy mind with something and am largely unsuccessful. Get Tootsie Pops for quick sugar fix. Stay awake. Cannot find Hampton Inn. GPS has screwed me again. Figure it out but all the streets in Richmond are divided and I almost go into the wrong way side and get potentially get killed. Finally make several u-turns and am almost finding my way into Hampton Inn when I am stuck through 4 cycles of traffic lights with only double red arrows on left turn. Fuck it. Turn anyway. Asshole just coming down the road behind me yells "way to run the red light" like he has any idea how long I have been waiting. Get to hotel. Sister gets to hotel. Go for Vietnamese dinner. Having reentry problems. Head is spinning from talking to four people at one table. Have gifts for niece. Forget about nephew. Shit. Dash for "home." Look up remembertheminers. It is a big feel good for the mining companies but I appreciate miners and I should remember. Here is Mike Rowe talking about it:
We like Mike Rowe because of Deadliest Catch and if he likes miners I do too.
This is a nifty cammo hat you can buy from the Remember The Miners store. Note to self: order Remember The Miners hat.By the way, I am in Virginia.
Here are places I like in West Virginia:
The Greenbrier
Here are places I do not like in West Virginia:
Everywhere else.
Likker bootlegging. Yes, that's what I did today. And that's not all.
Working on getting out early (for me) and making Rice's Country Hams with enough time to spare to get the juleps from Maker's Mark. Desk lady told me that I am very lucky I am not staying next weekend because all the high school bands like from everywhere will be taking up all the hotels. Meet messy teenagers in breakfast area, one wrapped in an orange fleece blanket and a ski cap. Met lady in track suit and girl with wet hair. Hey, I'm the only one who can get away with wet hair in public! Later meet blonder than blond guy in elevator. They are in a swim meet at Sewanee. They have been very well behaved and the only problem I had with the soldiers was the, uh, enthusiasm next door. Enjoyed Comfort Suites entirely and am breaking up with Holiday Inn Express just when I have achieved Gold Level Priority Club status. Have nice pastries that are not Famous Cinnamon Rolls from a microwave. Woody behaves.
Select addresses that I pre-programmed into GPS with Maker's Mark as destination and Rice's Country Hams as way point. Discover that will not make Maker's Mark by 4 pm when it closes. Shut eyes and try not to think about it. I am also half an hour later to Rice's than planned. Try to achieve zen thing. Drive to Rice's. Pass TN Fire and Codes Academy. I understand Fire Academy. Understand Codes Academy, I think, as fire codes. But cannot get hands around hot guys and bureaucrats in same place. Stop for gas and restroom. Door says We Welcome EFT Customers. Note to self: look up EFT. Think it is food stamps. If it is, some places must not welcome EFT Customers and that is very sad. Can't remember name of gas station but it looks like a chain because it has a nice canopy and large logo signage. Think it was Abernathy's or something like that. I have never seen such clean restrooms in my life and this is not a place you would think have them by the looks of it from the outside. There is an actual push button that instructs you to ring if the bathroom is not satisfactory. Sublime. Select peanut butter crackers for lunch because that clock is a tickin' and I can't lose one single minute even though I betcha there'll be lots of great lunch stops on the way. Priorities, priorities. One tenth of a mile later there is a station with real gas with no ethanol in it. Shit. I'd love to see how Woody performs with real gas but I have just filled up. Pass giant blue metal dog mailbox. Billboard: We Take Almost Anything In Trade. Guess they used to get burned.
Arrive at Mt. Juliet. Hope this is right place because it is a giant amoeba of fast food and Walgreen's. Hope won't be disappointed after driving all this way because of trick photography on web site. This is the place. I know this because as I pull in, a pickup full of hams is in front of me. This is the pickup. And this is the store. Walked in and announced myself as a Yankee with no knowledge of ham whatsoever that needs to be educated. This is true. Guy pulling hams out of pickup calls girl from back to deal with me.
This is Ginny (or Jenny because of the accent I don't know). Her grandfather started the ham business in 1933. The store was originally a general store built in 1888 across the street by horses. It was pulled clear across the road without being turned around so the front door is in the back but the back door is now the front. In other words, the door that you see in the picture is the one you use now but it used to be the general store's back door. Capisce? Ginny's grandfather said the highway killed the general stores. Used to be this road went clear from Nashville to Knoxville. Ginny's grandfather did a coupla hams to supplement the general store in 1933. They were a hit and they did more and more until the smoke house was entirely full with 150 hams. They still use the same smoke house but have 500 hams in it. This is Scott, Ginny's husband. He was the one that did the rearranging so that 500 fit. He is also the guy who was unloading the pickup, the guy who makes the hams, and the guy who cuts them up in the store. Scott dips.
Ginny helped me in understanding country hams. It is a four state only business (Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia and West Virginia) because you need all four seasons. Rice's is only open from October until December or whenever the hams run out. This is because the hams are being made the rest of the year. You need the cold and wet when they're salted and the hot to dry out the salt so that they don't go bad and they can be smoked. I'm not sure I got all the seasons straight but that's the general idea. They get salted twice I think. Country ham is not regular ham like you get in the supermarket or even at Honey Baked Ham. You have to cook it. It is like prosciutto. You soak it like beans and then you cook it in the oven in water in a turkey bag. Ginny likes it salty, though, and puts it in the microwave and just eats it that way. People eat the salty stuff for breakfast with biscuits. She nukes some for me. I like it salty like that.
The shop begins to get busy. I cannot capture the feel of the place in photos. It is at most 500 sq. ft. and probably a lot less but it is empty, really empty. The hams fly in and fly out so fast there doesn't need to be much there. The floors are all crooked and have an incredible shine from over 100 years of customers walking in and out. This is the inside of Rice's Country Hams.
This is where Scott hangs the hams from his pickup. This is another view. These are all the hams in the store and both pictures are of the same spot. Sorry about all the pix but I am absolutely taken by this place. Scott is married to Ginny and he knows more about making ham than anyone because he learned from both Ginny's father and her grandfather. He has one daughter who doesn't know what she is going to do but it is probably not ham. I wonder what will happen to Rice's. The signs above the hams are record prices set for ham. One was $9000 and something. Ginny's father wore a suit when they auctioned off those hams for charity. The money went to the FFA. I happen to know what FFA is. Future Farmers of America but I'm not sure how it relates to 4H. Note to self: find out relationship between FFA and 4H is, if any.
These are all the awards Rice's has won. The big ones are from the Monroe Country Fair. It is the biggest fair in the state and Rice's doesn't bother to go to the state fair anymore but the plaques on the wall are from wins there. Rice's has only lost once or twice (I don't remember what Ginny told me) since about 1933. They judge the hams by overall appearance and shape and smell. When it's time for the competition Scott picks out about 25 hams and oils em up real nice and does a little extra smoke to make them browner. The judges,well, look at them. Then they stick an ice pick in four places and smell it. This is Ginny's ice pick. It is in the counter. Rice's uses an ice pick too to make sure the hams didn't get a little pocket of mold or something so they aren't so good for the customer.
I would like to buy a ham. Ginny shows me how the hocks are used to flavor vegetables and they are $3 apiece. Most people have the whole ham sliced so they can cook it individually in a pan for breakfast and other times. Then there is the fat middle part that you might want to soak and cook in the oven like she told me. Scott is warming up his saw.I wonder if I can take a whole one home so it doesn't spoil and have my own butcher cut it up. Ginny isn't so sure but Scott thinks it's okay. Ginny thinks most butchers won't take outside meat. Regulations. She does tell me that if they cut my ham up it will keep okay out of the fridge for 5 days or so. I have decided to cut the hock in pieces for seasoning, slice the sorta other fat end and keep a beautiful big middle to cook in water. It needs to be cooked for 10 minutes per pound. The thing about cooking it is that it gets really tender and flakes like pork for barbecue does. One of they guys who comes in flakes it and makes ham salad out of it. Most people let it cool because then it firms up again and you can slice it. It is served room temperature. In the old days, hams were cooked in those big lard pots on legs. I nod like I know what at lard pot is. Once it is boiled for 1 minute per pound (there's a lot of math in hams), they used to wrap quilts around it and let it cook in that boiling water even though it is no longer on the flame. I think overnight.
This is Scott cutting my ham. We don't see his face because he is very quiet and very busy. Ginny is there putting it in the plastic vacuum packing thing.
This is adorable old ladies checking out the pre-sliced ham which will be gone in a couple of hours. This is the packages of slices.
This is them picking out their whole hams. Notice there are practically none left and it has been about half an hour since Scott unloaded them from the pickup. This is pretty much the whole store. But it is really empty which you can't tell from here.
This is the shelves with the stuff made especially for them by the Mennonites. They also have old-fashioned stone-ground grits. I love grits and it is one of the greatest disappointments of the trip that I did not think ahead enough to make sure I had a proper Southern breakfast with grits and, of course, country ham (now that I know what it is exactly). The aroma here is smoky but also tangy and meaty like a regular butcher shop. It is really yummy and makes me hungry especially since I am having peanut butter crackers for lunch.
This is a guy who went to school in Arkansas and hunts there. I have no idea how it came up but he likes dives like I do and I showed him the Pie Shop picture. He goes to Really Bad neighborhoods for food especially like barbecue. There was one barbecue place in Tuscaloosa (Alabama?) that is now closed. This is his son who is very,very well-behaved and is sipping on a soda. The guy's wife wants the little jars of blackberry jam which Ginny gets from the back.
This is a picture of Rices' Country Hams in 1933. There is also a letter written by Dinah Shore in 1966 asking them to please send a ham when it is available to a friend who is absolutely salivating due to her description. The Governor of California, Ronald Reagan.
My ham is almost done being cut up and I ask Ginny if the other stuff in her refrigerated case will keep okay on the way home. They will except the cheeses which I find kind of funny. Here is an adorable old couple at the case. Scott rushes by doing something and pulls up a pack of peppered bacon and sorta flops it around and said this one won at the World Food Fair and then he put it back and got right back doing what he was doing. Scott is a man of few words.
Standing at the cutting counter is a different adorable old lady with a Chanel kind of jacket on and a skirt. She has a sparkle in her eye and says she always gets a ham for Thanksgiving because her grandchildren like it. All four of her children live nearby except one who is in Athens. I presume she means Georgia.
At the checkout counter Ginny shows me a DVD about how lots of people make biscuits. It is an Emmy-winning documentary. I don't think she means Emmy but it is award-winning. There is also a book that has recipes. I really should go to (I can't make it out, dammit, and Ginny is busy so I can't ask again) in Nashville where the lady is famous for biscuits and makes them all day long. She might be dead now. Note to self: find biscuit place in Nashville.
At Rice's Country Hams I bought:
Ginny gives me a catalog in case I want to send stuff to other people. This is one last look at Rice's with Woody in it. I will treasure it always. Woody now smells like Tabasco mash and country ham. Not a bad combination but it makes me hungry all the time. This is the last picture. I promise.
Hit road hoping to make Maker's Mark by 4:00 or did he say 4:15? GPS says 3:05 but they are in Eastern Time and I am in Central Time. Wonder if by chance GPS is smarter than it looks and I will actually get there before 4. Check mileage to go. Do math several times and am reasonably certain GPS makes time change and I will barely squeak in. Driving through beautiful rolling farmland. Missing these attractions and getting very pissed off about it because I would have stopped if I didn't have to get places which I really didn't but made reservation and told sister when I'd get to Richmond. Feel obligated. Anyhow:
Get to what I think is Bardsville but I thought the town back there was Bardsville because I think I ate at the pharmacy there in February. Need gas and I really haven't seen any for a long time. I will have no idea where Bardsville is all day, I just know it is around here and I probably went through it.
This is Marty at Rock & Rogers. He wanted his picture taken at the corner of Woody. This is the picture I am taking, not one that he is. Go figure. Rock & Rogers is an old-fashioned service station. Marty pumps Woody's gas and washes his windshield. Enthusiastic guy with round glasses walks up and wants to tell me about the 1931 his dad was building on a Model A but didn't finish before he died. They gave it to the local Vo-Tech and they finished it. They painted it with purple flames and he isn't too happy about that.
Back on road and see old cars! They have hoods up. This must be a club or a show or a cruise or something. Impulsively pull in, aware that I am really screwed time-wise in getting to Maker's Mark. This is Richard and Lyndal. Lyndal bets I have never met a Lyndal before. He is right. Both Richard and Lyndal have 1966 Novas. Richard's is the Sunset Orange one. I can't remember the name of the blue color. Lyndal. Lyndal makes sure I take a picture of his back windshield. It says: Unless You Are Nude Do Not Touch This Car. He is very proud of it. Richard has a daughter named Amy. It is because she was short. Not sure what that has to do with anything.
This is Woody in the lot behind all the real club cars. He attracts some interest but not very much because these guys all want to be super cool with their cars and I mustn't get in the way of that. Meet Mark and Richard Don. Richard Don is his first name. Mark owns the place and he organized the event. It will be on the first Saturday of the month and this is the first one. They have them in Bardstown and somewhere else and The-Town-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named that sucked me up last winter and wouldn't let me go. I ask where we are. We are in New Haven. Lyndal or Richard (I forget which) grew up in that white house just across the street. His four brothers and sisters live within 5 miles of here. His sister bought the house. You can tell that these guys are really about their town and the next town over, maybe 10 miles away, is a foreign country. They have car events in Bardstown which is from what I know not what I can actually see today about 7 miles. That is not local to these guys. I am in New Haven. All the guys invite me to stay for chili and I won't have to eat down the road. You have no idea how hard that was to turn down as I am really hungry, love chili, and would love to hang with these guys. Mark comes up to say something, I forget what, and I am taken by his unique accessory. He has his beer in one of those zip-up koozies and the zipper hangs from a lanyard around his neck. Very clever. Note to self: construct beer-holder necklace.
Gotta go. Gotta go. Really guys, gotta go. Lyndall has a sister and a cousin who work at Maker's Mark and I should turn right here at 52 and it will take ya fer a way (that's the first time I've heard fer and it tickles me) and you'll be right there right there. I do and I do. It is five minutes to four. There are people eating at the cafe and I ask if there is parking down the road near the distillery. I forget. There is. This is the gate in behind the cafe which is relievedly (is that a word?) still open. Get back in the woodster and go to next parking lot. Sign in middle of wreath on door: Last tour 3:30. Sorry you missed us. The Gift Shop is open. Ask bystander where Gift Shop is. At end of big building. Move Woody even though it is not very far in anticipation of closure of store and potential usage of Woody to keep it open for me. Run to Gift Shop. It is still open. There are a lot of people in there which I assume is due to the 3:30 tour. Pick up allotted 3 bottles of Mint Julep. Walk to counter and wink wink nod nod about getting another ticket. Really nice guy hears conversation and says hey you're the lady from Philadelphia who wants to buy a case that I talked to yesterday but says it really softly. I am. He hushes the other two working at the counter and says to set me up with four tickets. Brings heavy case to Woody. It is over 65 pounds. The Reserve weighs more though. Must be the bottles. Put case in place of honor on front seat. This is Mint Julep. Black Ops. Mum's the word. Guy in parking lot had a woodie and tells me to use Bumper Boys in LA for chroming. Note to self: contact Bumper Boys and compare with local guy near the little airport.
You might wonder what the big deal about Maker's Mark Mint Julep is. The big deal is that it is good. Lots of people think it is good. Even snotty writers think it is good. Spirited Cocktails guy does. So does this guy I have no idea who is. You can even buy a bottle on eBay for $65. I am pretty sure it is illegal to sell liquor on eBay so he is advertising A Bottle. There is a shortage. I am very, very popular. And heartbroken that I now have an entire country ham and Maker's Mark juleps and I am missing the Pennsylvania Hunt Cup tomorrow because I have made a dog's breakfast of my schedule.
Deal with food again. I have wasted the last two days not eating any good food. This will not be an exception. This is a pulled pork sandwich I think with bourbon BBQ sauce. It is like a Northerner would eat. Too much sauce.
This is Chuckles. Bought them at a slummy rest stop for dinner. Ate red one which tasted like perfume. Threw rest away at next gas station. When was the last time you ate Chuckles? I thought so. There is a reason for that. At said trash stop met middle-aged guy who is from Maryland who just had to stop to see Woody. He had followed me. It was not creepy. Trust me. He lives in Kansas and is going back to Maryland to visit. He has been driving a long way. He does not know the half of it. Old guy with red Semper Fi hat on chats happily. Go into gas station store to get peanut M&Ms. Boy they sell a lot of liquor in there. Yes, it is a liquor store. Oh. Watch GPS and road signs. Road sign: Elizabethtown 59. GPS: Turn in 47 mi. Road sign: Elizabethtown 32. GPS: Turn in 19 mi. Please lord let that be true.
Get into zone on I-whatever. Parts are very empty and I like that. Three hours to drive. Lots of time to think. Consider that I have been blogging daily for almost a year. Spend about four hours a day on it. Probably written the equivalent of 2000 pages or more. Maybe should finally write book. Doesn't every body think about writing a book? Hasn't everyone been told you ought to write a book? I have always had issues with plot not the actual writing. Think I may have one. How about prison artist and girl have correspondence about art but it is very unemotional even though it seems it should be until she finally finds out what he is in there for and it is a very very bad thing with girls. Angst ensues. Thought about this because read whatever the One City One Book for NYC is. It is about a young girl sending explicit video to older guy who forwards it and it then goes viral and ruins everybody's life. Plus, saw that horrible beating with belt video by that Judge guy I think Adams. You can look it up in about one second. I don't know what to do about guys with rage issues. I am sad. Read comments that say girl is just blackmailing dad because he won't support her anymore and took away her Mercedes. Watched TV interview and think that is true but why did she get the Mercedes anyhow? Also wonder about mom's complicity and inappropriate blond hair extensions. There is no excuse for the abuse and I am appalled that I watched it but got a thrill out of it and I don't know why. Note to self: attempt to bring up beating video with shrink.
Amidst all this complex thinking am startled to see looming refineries with flares and pipes and lights and smoke. Oh shit. Huntington is as bad as I remembered. Praying hotel is back a bit from it. Also worrying about bathing in refinery water. Don't they have high rates of cancer in West Virginia? Can't remember what hotel I made reservations at. Just know it is not the Holiday Inn Express because it got very, very bad reviews on tripadvisor. Stop at first hotel. I do not have a reservation there. Decide to trust GPS although that almost always never works. Today I was rerouted about 10 times because the road I was on did not exist in computer map land. Get to Marriott Something. Think this is it. It is. Am tired of ranting about hotels. Note to self: never go to hotel at night; makes me cranky. This room has full kitchen (with stove and pots and pans and glasses and flatware), no wastebasket in bathroom and this. This is a radio antenna looped over the bedside light. And this room costs 50% more than any other one I've been in on this trip. Fuck you, Huntington.
Have now acquired:
Working on getting out early (for me) and making Rice's Country Hams with enough time to spare to get the juleps from Maker's Mark. Desk lady told me that I am very lucky I am not staying next weekend because all the high school bands like from everywhere will be taking up all the hotels. Meet messy teenagers in breakfast area, one wrapped in an orange fleece blanket and a ski cap. Met lady in track suit and girl with wet hair. Hey, I'm the only one who can get away with wet hair in public! Later meet blonder than blond guy in elevator. They are in a swim meet at Sewanee. They have been very well behaved and the only problem I had with the soldiers was the, uh, enthusiasm next door. Enjoyed Comfort Suites entirely and am breaking up with Holiday Inn Express just when I have achieved Gold Level Priority Club status. Have nice pastries that are not Famous Cinnamon Rolls from a microwave. Woody behaves.
Select addresses that I pre-programmed into GPS with Maker's Mark as destination and Rice's Country Hams as way point. Discover that will not make Maker's Mark by 4 pm when it closes. Shut eyes and try not to think about it. I am also half an hour later to Rice's than planned. Try to achieve zen thing. Drive to Rice's. Pass TN Fire and Codes Academy. I understand Fire Academy. Understand Codes Academy, I think, as fire codes. But cannot get hands around hot guys and bureaucrats in same place. Stop for gas and restroom. Door says We Welcome EFT Customers. Note to self: look up EFT. Think it is food stamps. If it is, some places must not welcome EFT Customers and that is very sad. Can't remember name of gas station but it looks like a chain because it has a nice canopy and large logo signage. Think it was Abernathy's or something like that. I have never seen such clean restrooms in my life and this is not a place you would think have them by the looks of it from the outside. There is an actual push button that instructs you to ring if the bathroom is not satisfactory. Sublime. Select peanut butter crackers for lunch because that clock is a tickin' and I can't lose one single minute even though I betcha there'll be lots of great lunch stops on the way. Priorities, priorities. One tenth of a mile later there is a station with real gas with no ethanol in it. Shit. I'd love to see how Woody performs with real gas but I have just filled up. Pass giant blue metal dog mailbox. Billboard: We Take Almost Anything In Trade. Guess they used to get burned.
Arrive at Mt. Juliet. Hope this is right place because it is a giant amoeba of fast food and Walgreen's. Hope won't be disappointed after driving all this way because of trick photography on web site. This is the place. I know this because as I pull in, a pickup full of hams is in front of me. This is the pickup. And this is the store. Walked in and announced myself as a Yankee with no knowledge of ham whatsoever that needs to be educated. This is true. Guy pulling hams out of pickup calls girl from back to deal with me.
This is Ginny (or Jenny because of the accent I don't know). Her grandfather started the ham business in 1933. The store was originally a general store built in 1888 across the street by horses. It was pulled clear across the road without being turned around so the front door is in the back but the back door is now the front. In other words, the door that you see in the picture is the one you use now but it used to be the general store's back door. Capisce? Ginny's grandfather said the highway killed the general stores. Used to be this road went clear from Nashville to Knoxville. Ginny's grandfather did a coupla hams to supplement the general store in 1933. They were a hit and they did more and more until the smoke house was entirely full with 150 hams. They still use the same smoke house but have 500 hams in it. This is Scott, Ginny's husband. He was the one that did the rearranging so that 500 fit. He is also the guy who was unloading the pickup, the guy who makes the hams, and the guy who cuts them up in the store. Scott dips.Ginny helped me in understanding country hams. It is a four state only business (Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia and West Virginia) because you need all four seasons. Rice's is only open from October until December or whenever the hams run out. This is because the hams are being made the rest of the year. You need the cold and wet when they're salted and the hot to dry out the salt so that they don't go bad and they can be smoked. I'm not sure I got all the seasons straight but that's the general idea. They get salted twice I think. Country ham is not regular ham like you get in the supermarket or even at Honey Baked Ham. You have to cook it. It is like prosciutto. You soak it like beans and then you cook it in the oven in water in a turkey bag. Ginny likes it salty, though, and puts it in the microwave and just eats it that way. People eat the salty stuff for breakfast with biscuits. She nukes some for me. I like it salty like that.
The shop begins to get busy. I cannot capture the feel of the place in photos. It is at most 500 sq. ft. and probably a lot less but it is empty, really empty. The hams fly in and fly out so fast there doesn't need to be much there. The floors are all crooked and have an incredible shine from over 100 years of customers walking in and out. This is the inside of Rice's Country Hams.
This is where Scott hangs the hams from his pickup. This is another view. These are all the hams in the store and both pictures are of the same spot. Sorry about all the pix but I am absolutely taken by this place. Scott is married to Ginny and he knows more about making ham than anyone because he learned from both Ginny's father and her grandfather. He has one daughter who doesn't know what she is going to do but it is probably not ham. I wonder what will happen to Rice's. The signs above the hams are record prices set for ham. One was $9000 and something. Ginny's father wore a suit when they auctioned off those hams for charity. The money went to the FFA. I happen to know what FFA is. Future Farmers of America but I'm not sure how it relates to 4H. Note to self: find out relationship between FFA and 4H is, if any.
These are all the awards Rice's has won. The big ones are from the Monroe Country Fair. It is the biggest fair in the state and Rice's doesn't bother to go to the state fair anymore but the plaques on the wall are from wins there. Rice's has only lost once or twice (I don't remember what Ginny told me) since about 1933. They judge the hams by overall appearance and shape and smell. When it's time for the competition Scott picks out about 25 hams and oils em up real nice and does a little extra smoke to make them browner. The judges,well, look at them. Then they stick an ice pick in four places and smell it. This is Ginny's ice pick. It is in the counter. Rice's uses an ice pick too to make sure the hams didn't get a little pocket of mold or something so they aren't so good for the customer.I would like to buy a ham. Ginny shows me how the hocks are used to flavor vegetables and they are $3 apiece. Most people have the whole ham sliced so they can cook it individually in a pan for breakfast and other times. Then there is the fat middle part that you might want to soak and cook in the oven like she told me. Scott is warming up his saw.I wonder if I can take a whole one home so it doesn't spoil and have my own butcher cut it up. Ginny isn't so sure but Scott thinks it's okay. Ginny thinks most butchers won't take outside meat. Regulations. She does tell me that if they cut my ham up it will keep okay out of the fridge for 5 days or so. I have decided to cut the hock in pieces for seasoning, slice the sorta other fat end and keep a beautiful big middle to cook in water. It needs to be cooked for 10 minutes per pound. The thing about cooking it is that it gets really tender and flakes like pork for barbecue does. One of they guys who comes in flakes it and makes ham salad out of it. Most people let it cool because then it firms up again and you can slice it. It is served room temperature. In the old days, hams were cooked in those big lard pots on legs. I nod like I know what at lard pot is. Once it is boiled for 1 minute per pound (there's a lot of math in hams), they used to wrap quilts around it and let it cook in that boiling water even though it is no longer on the flame. I think overnight.
This is Scott cutting my ham. We don't see his face because he is very quiet and very busy. Ginny is there putting it in the plastic vacuum packing thing.
This is adorable old ladies checking out the pre-sliced ham which will be gone in a couple of hours. This is the packages of slices.
This is them picking out their whole hams. Notice there are practically none left and it has been about half an hour since Scott unloaded them from the pickup. This is pretty much the whole store. But it is really empty which you can't tell from here.
This is the shelves with the stuff made especially for them by the Mennonites. They also have old-fashioned stone-ground grits. I love grits and it is one of the greatest disappointments of the trip that I did not think ahead enough to make sure I had a proper Southern breakfast with grits and, of course, country ham (now that I know what it is exactly). The aroma here is smoky but also tangy and meaty like a regular butcher shop. It is really yummy and makes me hungry especially since I am having peanut butter crackers for lunch.
This is a guy who went to school in Arkansas and hunts there. I have no idea how it came up but he likes dives like I do and I showed him the Pie Shop picture. He goes to Really Bad neighborhoods for food especially like barbecue. There was one barbecue place in Tuscaloosa (Alabama?) that is now closed. This is his son who is very,very well-behaved and is sipping on a soda. The guy's wife wants the little jars of blackberry jam which Ginny gets from the back.
This is a picture of Rices' Country Hams in 1933. There is also a letter written by Dinah Shore in 1966 asking them to please send a ham when it is available to a friend who is absolutely salivating due to her description. The Governor of California, Ronald Reagan.
My ham is almost done being cut up and I ask Ginny if the other stuff in her refrigerated case will keep okay on the way home. They will except the cheeses which I find kind of funny. Here is an adorable old couple at the case. Scott rushes by doing something and pulls up a pack of peppered bacon and sorta flops it around and said this one won at the World Food Fair and then he put it back and got right back doing what he was doing. Scott is a man of few words.Standing at the cutting counter is a different adorable old lady with a Chanel kind of jacket on and a skirt. She has a sparkle in her eye and says she always gets a ham for Thanksgiving because her grandchildren like it. All four of her children live nearby except one who is in Athens. I presume she means Georgia.
At the checkout counter Ginny shows me a DVD about how lots of people make biscuits. It is an Emmy-winning documentary. I don't think she means Emmy but it is award-winning. There is also a book that has recipes. I really should go to (I can't make it out, dammit, and Ginny is busy so I can't ask again) in Nashville where the lady is famous for biscuits and makes them all day long. She might be dead now. Note to self: find biscuit place in Nashville.
At Rice's Country Hams I bought:
- One large ham cut into various pieces
- One large strawberry jam for my biscuits
- One small jar of sorghum which Ginny doesn't care for but her father always used to mix with a little bit of butter and let it melt on his biscuit and sorghum is a cross between molasses and I forgot what
- Three medium jars of blackberry jam
- One small (approximately 11 by 4 inch) log of sausage
- Three pepper bacons
- The DVD
- The cookbook
Ginny gives me a catalog in case I want to send stuff to other people. This is one last look at Rice's with Woody in it. I will treasure it always. Woody now smells like Tabasco mash and country ham. Not a bad combination but it makes me hungry all the time. This is the last picture. I promise.Hit road hoping to make Maker's Mark by 4:00 or did he say 4:15? GPS says 3:05 but they are in Eastern Time and I am in Central Time. Wonder if by chance GPS is smarter than it looks and I will actually get there before 4. Check mileage to go. Do math several times and am reasonably certain GPS makes time change and I will barely squeak in. Driving through beautiful rolling farmland. Missing these attractions and getting very pissed off about it because I would have stopped if I didn't have to get places which I really didn't but made reservation and told sister when I'd get to Richmond. Feel obligated. Anyhow:
- Lincoln's boyhood home
- Lincoln's home
- Something else about Lincoln
- Mammouth Cave
- Other caves
- National Corvette Museum
- National Railcar Museum
- Kentucky Railroad Museum
- Granny's Quilts
- Headly-something Museum
- Thoroughbred Something
- Kentucky Down Under
- ADULT
Also Amish quits and baskets. I didn't know Amish made baskets. They looked nice. Note to self: plan next trip around Kentucky and Arkansas. The hell with West Virginia and Louisiana except Angola. Also wonder why all these ATVs are camouflaged.
Get to what I think is Bardsville but I thought the town back there was Bardsville because I think I ate at the pharmacy there in February. Need gas and I really haven't seen any for a long time. I will have no idea where Bardsville is all day, I just know it is around here and I probably went through it.
This is Marty at Rock & Rogers. He wanted his picture taken at the corner of Woody. This is the picture I am taking, not one that he is. Go figure. Rock & Rogers is an old-fashioned service station. Marty pumps Woody's gas and washes his windshield. Enthusiastic guy with round glasses walks up and wants to tell me about the 1931 his dad was building on a Model A but didn't finish before he died. They gave it to the local Vo-Tech and they finished it. They painted it with purple flames and he isn't too happy about that.
Back on road and see old cars! They have hoods up. This must be a club or a show or a cruise or something. Impulsively pull in, aware that I am really screwed time-wise in getting to Maker's Mark. This is Richard and Lyndal. Lyndal bets I have never met a Lyndal before. He is right. Both Richard and Lyndal have 1966 Novas. Richard's is the Sunset Orange one. I can't remember the name of the blue color. Lyndal. Lyndal makes sure I take a picture of his back windshield. It says: Unless You Are Nude Do Not Touch This Car. He is very proud of it. Richard has a daughter named Amy. It is because she was short. Not sure what that has to do with anything.
This is Woody in the lot behind all the real club cars. He attracts some interest but not very much because these guys all want to be super cool with their cars and I mustn't get in the way of that. Meet Mark and Richard Don. Richard Don is his first name. Mark owns the place and he organized the event. It will be on the first Saturday of the month and this is the first one. They have them in Bardstown and somewhere else and The-Town-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named that sucked me up last winter and wouldn't let me go. I ask where we are. We are in New Haven. Lyndal or Richard (I forget which) grew up in that white house just across the street. His four brothers and sisters live within 5 miles of here. His sister bought the house. You can tell that these guys are really about their town and the next town over, maybe 10 miles away, is a foreign country. They have car events in Bardstown which is from what I know not what I can actually see today about 7 miles. That is not local to these guys. I am in New Haven. All the guys invite me to stay for chili and I won't have to eat down the road. You have no idea how hard that was to turn down as I am really hungry, love chili, and would love to hang with these guys. Mark comes up to say something, I forget what, and I am taken by his unique accessory. He has his beer in one of those zip-up koozies and the zipper hangs from a lanyard around his neck. Very clever. Note to self: construct beer-holder necklace.
Gotta go. Gotta go. Really guys, gotta go. Lyndall has a sister and a cousin who work at Maker's Mark and I should turn right here at 52 and it will take ya fer a way (that's the first time I've heard fer and it tickles me) and you'll be right there right there. I do and I do. It is five minutes to four. There are people eating at the cafe and I ask if there is parking down the road near the distillery. I forget. There is. This is the gate in behind the cafe which is relievedly (is that a word?) still open. Get back in the woodster and go to next parking lot. Sign in middle of wreath on door: Last tour 3:30. Sorry you missed us. The Gift Shop is open. Ask bystander where Gift Shop is. At end of big building. Move Woody even though it is not very far in anticipation of closure of store and potential usage of Woody to keep it open for me. Run to Gift Shop. It is still open. There are a lot of people in there which I assume is due to the 3:30 tour. Pick up allotted 3 bottles of Mint Julep. Walk to counter and wink wink nod nod about getting another ticket. Really nice guy hears conversation and says hey you're the lady from Philadelphia who wants to buy a case that I talked to yesterday but says it really softly. I am. He hushes the other two working at the counter and says to set me up with four tickets. Brings heavy case to Woody. It is over 65 pounds. The Reserve weighs more though. Must be the bottles. Put case in place of honor on front seat. This is Mint Julep. Black Ops. Mum's the word. Guy in parking lot had a woodie and tells me to use Bumper Boys in LA for chroming. Note to self: contact Bumper Boys and compare with local guy near the little airport.You might wonder what the big deal about Maker's Mark Mint Julep is. The big deal is that it is good. Lots of people think it is good. Even snotty writers think it is good. Spirited Cocktails guy does. So does this guy I have no idea who is. You can even buy a bottle on eBay for $65. I am pretty sure it is illegal to sell liquor on eBay so he is advertising A Bottle. There is a shortage. I am very, very popular. And heartbroken that I now have an entire country ham and Maker's Mark juleps and I am missing the Pennsylvania Hunt Cup tomorrow because I have made a dog's breakfast of my schedule.
Deal with food again. I have wasted the last two days not eating any good food. This will not be an exception. This is a pulled pork sandwich I think with bourbon BBQ sauce. It is like a Northerner would eat. Too much sauce.
This is Chuckles. Bought them at a slummy rest stop for dinner. Ate red one which tasted like perfume. Threw rest away at next gas station. When was the last time you ate Chuckles? I thought so. There is a reason for that. At said trash stop met middle-aged guy who is from Maryland who just had to stop to see Woody. He had followed me. It was not creepy. Trust me. He lives in Kansas and is going back to Maryland to visit. He has been driving a long way. He does not know the half of it. Old guy with red Semper Fi hat on chats happily. Go into gas station store to get peanut M&Ms. Boy they sell a lot of liquor in there. Yes, it is a liquor store. Oh. Watch GPS and road signs. Road sign: Elizabethtown 59. GPS: Turn in 47 mi. Road sign: Elizabethtown 32. GPS: Turn in 19 mi. Please lord let that be true.Get into zone on I-whatever. Parts are very empty and I like that. Three hours to drive. Lots of time to think. Consider that I have been blogging daily for almost a year. Spend about four hours a day on it. Probably written the equivalent of 2000 pages or more. Maybe should finally write book. Doesn't every body think about writing a book? Hasn't everyone been told you ought to write a book? I have always had issues with plot not the actual writing. Think I may have one. How about prison artist and girl have correspondence about art but it is very unemotional even though it seems it should be until she finally finds out what he is in there for and it is a very very bad thing with girls. Angst ensues. Thought about this because read whatever the One City One Book for NYC is. It is about a young girl sending explicit video to older guy who forwards it and it then goes viral and ruins everybody's life. Plus, saw that horrible beating with belt video by that Judge guy I think Adams. You can look it up in about one second. I don't know what to do about guys with rage issues. I am sad. Read comments that say girl is just blackmailing dad because he won't support her anymore and took away her Mercedes. Watched TV interview and think that is true but why did she get the Mercedes anyhow? Also wonder about mom's complicity and inappropriate blond hair extensions. There is no excuse for the abuse and I am appalled that I watched it but got a thrill out of it and I don't know why. Note to self: attempt to bring up beating video with shrink.
Amidst all this complex thinking am startled to see looming refineries with flares and pipes and lights and smoke. Oh shit. Huntington is as bad as I remembered. Praying hotel is back a bit from it. Also worrying about bathing in refinery water. Don't they have high rates of cancer in West Virginia? Can't remember what hotel I made reservations at. Just know it is not the Holiday Inn Express because it got very, very bad reviews on tripadvisor. Stop at first hotel. I do not have a reservation there. Decide to trust GPS although that almost always never works. Today I was rerouted about 10 times because the road I was on did not exist in computer map land. Get to Marriott Something. Think this is it. It is. Am tired of ranting about hotels. Note to self: never go to hotel at night; makes me cranky. This room has full kitchen (with stove and pots and pans and glasses and flatware), no wastebasket in bathroom and this. This is a radio antenna looped over the bedside light. And this room costs 50% more than any other one I've been in on this trip. Fuck you, Huntington.Have now acquired:
- Arts and crafts from Angola Prison
- Tabasco edibles and clothing
- Konricko rice and secret sauce
- God knows what from Unclaimed Baggage
- Rice's country ham and assorted ham products
- Maker's Mark Mint Julep
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