Laundry on the Mississippi

I'm often asked how much we pack for a trip like this -- 6 weeks start to finish. Well, we opted to pack twice as many outfits on this trip: six changes of clothes each. We felt like we needed to look fresher and a bit more put-together in the Southeast, to show respect so to speak.

Laundry day finally arrived and we had to cross the Mississippi again, because the nearest laundromat was back in Vidalia, LA. (Check out the stats to see just how many times we've crossed the Mighty Mississip.)

Driving through a poor neighborhood, I asked a woman where the laundromat was and she looked up surprised, "Well, it's ovuh dat-a-way. I was jus headin' ovuh deh, so can I have a ride?" Now, I was the surprised one, "Sure!"

Now this was an experience for the kids. We quickly flung Doodle's things from the spare seat to the floor, opened the door and let the woman in. That's when I realized she was unwell. She was older, a bit crumpled, shaky, weak and her eyes were somehow wrong. I helped her into the car and for the first time in 42 states all three kids fell silent.

Her directions went like this, "Ovuh deh. Now dat-a-way. Left-uh heh. Right-uh deh. Mmm-hmm das it right-deh." When we arrived Grandma casually remarked, "I wonder if there's a change machine?" The lady replied, "Mmm-hmmm dey do. Now can I have a dol-luh?" I looked at her and said, "You need a dollar?" She indignantly answered, "Yes'm, I doooo." So, I gave her 4 quarters and explained to the kids that she'd earned it by giving us directions. She promptly walked into the laundromat and sat down, presumably to enjoy the fans because she had no laundry to speak of.

We loaded our clothes, and I tried to take Little Man and Doodle for a walk to occupy the time while Grandma waited in the car with Peanut to keep an eye on things. We found a store selling western wear and although the front windows had been through some kind of battle, the older man inside was very kind and gentle and let Doodle ride the saddles and Little Man test the whips. We wanted to check out a nearby church but we were too afraid to cross the road. (You should see all the road kill.) We ended up being stared down in a gas station, where we bought some new-to-us candy to try.

Inside the laundromat we became friends with a nice old man who talked more than we did. Trouble was, between Grandma and I, we could only understand some of what he said. Here's what we got: he was retired from the Railroad, had 2 sons that refused to do their own laundry (one was 40 years old), 2 grand-daughters on the honor roll, and a mind full of things for us to do (lakes to fish in, alligator farms, places to eat boudin and cracklins) when our laundry was finished.

We took none of his advice, however, because each of his roads led in one direction: Arkansas. Grandma and I told him several times that we were heading East to Alabama, but he carried on with directions to all these wonderful places with roads that ended somehow-someway in the fine state of Arkansas.