The illegal immigrant debate here is interesting. The locals want the governor to back down on recently enacted strict laws on illegal immigrants. The farmers are afraid there won’t be enough field help. The governor vowed that only legal immigrants will be able to work in this fine state, then promised he will address the restriction on obtaining drivers licenses and renting living quarters without documentation.
Football trumps every other concern. “Go Auburn” and “Crimson Tide” banners and flags adorn every car and truck. Even President Obama on 60 Minutes was a no show—there was a football game on here.
Used car dealers, dentists, mattress stores and other commercial enterprises make pitches in print ads and on television for residents’ “BP money,.” trying to make the case that a better car, nice smile, or good night’s sleep is a deserved investment in oneself after the trauma of the oil disaster.
There’s no state lottery in Alabama. I miss my crossword scratchers.
I thought people in Arizona were the only fools who tried to cultivate lawns where Mother Nature never intended grass to grow. Wrong. White ankle-deep sand here, and people try to grow grass on it. Good thing the grass doesn’t grow well—a lawn mower would sink in the sand.
I wonder who thought ‘Piggly Wiggly’ was a good name for a grocery store?
There are Christmas decorations on and around almost all the RVs in the park. Not mine. Some of them are pretty tacky—I could have lived without seeing a lighted Christmas wreath around the neck of a pink plastic flamingo. Lots of little sparkly Christmas trees in the front windows of motorhomes. Most of the folks are here until April, and they really settle in with wooden steps, lawn furniture, and signs in the “yard.” I’m ready to leave. A month was too long to stay here. Gracie is ready to go, too. Another ten days . . . .
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