S & S Exotics Pet Store – Houston texas

Texas is an odd state where you can have almost any pet without too much (if any) trouble. And when I say any pet I mean things that should be in zoos… monkeys, lemurs, lions, tigers, and bears, oh my! I also had seen this one pet shop in Houston online that seemed to have the most bizarre things, little mammals I had never heard of (and I’ve been in the hobby a looong time, it takes a lot too stump me!) People seemed happy with this place too according to the reviews. I thought Ishould visit at least one pet shop on my travels anyway.

I did not expect it to be situated in the middle of a trailer park. The place was small, much smaller than I expected, it was… a normal pet store. I walked around anyway. They had such a lovely variation of reptiles, including the cutest baby tortoises you could ask for and a lizard that I swear to god just skittered in from Jurassic Park. Reptiles were the one kind of house pet I’d never had. Still lizards fascinate me and the snakes were rather cool too. Too many pythons though, I really don’t like the idea of selling a little snake that grows up to be aggressive and 18 feet long. Sigh.

Finally I wandered to another corner and found the mammals. This is what I was here for! There was someone here handling some sort of Asian ground squirrel. In cages there were a couple degus, another squirrel, some very healthy looking furless and furred rats, some skinny pigs, a kinkajou and a lemur. Texas is the only state in which lemurs are legal to own as pets as far as I know. Kinkajous are only legal to keep in a handful of states. I was slightly disappointed. I sorta wanted to see some of the really unusual things this place often had on their website… like capybaras, pacas, or maras, or something I’d never heard of and couldn’t identify (like the one fossa fossa I found on an ad one day.) Still it was sort of neat…

Then I saw what I came to see. Just outside, behind a fence, there was a young lion, no more than 3 or 4 years old, and apparently his mate, a large orange tiger. apparently hybrids were legal here too. It was pretty amazing, seeing two large cats living not only in someone’s back yard but in a trailer park in Houston. I’m all for exotic (domestically bred) pets, but even this is too far for me! Still, the animals at the shop, including the cats were very robust and healthy. Everyone looked great. They even had classically fussy animals like chameleons and sugar gliders that looked very healthy. And let me tell you the furless rats didn’t have a scratch on them! That’s an accomplishment! And I know because they were my favorite breeding project once.

I left the shop only to find a large tortoise wandering the yard and the three micro-mini potbelly pigs in a pen. They were so cute! She said they only got to be about 35 pounds. Man if I had a place of my own, with a nice yard, and this little shop were closer that would have been super tempting. The largest was a salt and pepper gray with a little white star. So cute. Its been way too long since I’ve seen piggies.

On the way out I got to witness one of the funniest sights I had yet seen – it was a couple, the man obviously a stoner, grinning ear to ear, a lemur on a leash going bat shit crazy in his car, his girlfriend looking disgruntled like, “Why did you just buy a fucking monkey?! Now I can’t even get into the car!”

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May 28, 2011 0

Fried Pie – Texas

Local foods are… just so tempting… and I saw a big sign reading, “Fried pie!” Who the hell fries a pie? What does it taste like? I decided to find out and pulled off an exit. I ordered a blackberry,wishing later he’d tried the coconut cream. It was delicious! I am not a fan of pies… especially the crust… but the frying process made the crust not so dry. It was fantastic! And there was a little thing on the paper bag reading, “start your own franchise!” Might have to.

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May 28, 2011 0

Eisenhower State Park Texas

I decided to stay at Eisenhower state park for a night, being tired of sleeping in the car and aching for a shower, as well as hoping for a Laundromat. As it turns out it was Memorial Day weekend and the park was full. I was sent to the “overflow” camping plots, which were “rugged” in nature. I bought a bundle of wood to burn as the collecting of firewood in the park was prohibited. I ended up situated next to a large and very loud herd of teenagers who did not shut up all night. I smoked them out for awhile… once I got my wet bundle of wood to burn. They gave me the saddest amount, a bundle with only five pieces of wood for $5 and it wouldn’t even burn… I waited way too long to eat and was agitated at the lack of coals. When I finally did get around to eating I devoured the whole package of turkey dogs, save for the one I dropped on the ground. But the wood was all burned now, at 6pm. SIGH.

I checked out the showering facilities and was too freaked out by them to actually take advantage of them. In the women’s room there were three stalls for the toilets, clean, and a clean sink, though there was no soap. The showers… were two infinitesimally small stalls with a half wall separating them, that didn’t even shield you from the other stall. The showers were in full view of the rest of the bathroom, there was no privacy curtain and no where to put anything like clothes or soap… I took a nice sponge bath in the tent.

I intended to stay and rest awhile but this place was blargh. Armadillo Hill didn’t even appear to have any armadillos! Though there was a nice stash of fossils lying about… not sure what they were. I think they may have been some sort of Cambrian snails. The coolest part about that was there were pill bugs EVERYWHERE, like little living fossils themselves! I was thoroughly amused picking them up by the handful and watching them drip through my fingers. In New England you really have to search for pill bugs, maybe prying apart a dead tree or something, but here they were as common as dirt! And rolling up wee insect armadillos!

The other interesting thing was the stuffed animals they had in the welcome center… they had a very fat beaver, a coyote, and something called a paddle fish that was just bizarre looking. I fell asleep to the psychotic yipping and yelping of coyotes which was actually a comforting sound, something I had gotten used to as a small child.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

May 28, 2011 0

Branson Missouri

You know how much of a sucker I am for “World’s Largest Whatevers.” Today it was World’s Largest Banjo because why not? When in Rome (or Missouri…)

So I ended up, for some odd reason, driving through Branson Missouri. It was such a weird thing, like driving through the Twilight Zone. I couldn’t tell what was reality anymore. On every nook and cranny of the city there was some sort of fantasy tourist trap… Go golfing with pirates! Go to an indoor water park! Elvis, Elvis, Elvis, oh my god, look! More Elvis! What was up with all the Elvis stuff? And the Old West mock-ups? And the Indiana Jones stuff? And the themed restaurants? This place was creepy, and didn’t have that many people in it. It was strange. The amusement park stood still, the two outdoor water parks stood dry. It was just creepy. “Where am I? Did I just re-enter the 80’s?” I never did find that damn Banjo…

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May 27, 2011 0

New Orleans

Good old New Orleans, how could I forget America’s home to Voodoo, ghost tours, beloved vampire writers, and Mardi Gras? I decided to start my little journey by heading towards the famous French Quarters, a magical place where diaper-wearing horses pull carts around the streets. No no, I ended up parking comfortably near the French Quarter for $14 and I walked around. I was in search of a skirt… you know one of those airy ankle-length ones that they apparently don’t sell in the South… and to be quite frank they don’t sell skirts period down here. Whhhy?! It’s so frickin’ hot you’d think everyone would be wearing them! I would settle for an ankle length sundress of course but all the ones here went to your knees and were made of hot materials. It made no sense. I weaved in out of Voodoo shops as a reward for sticking it out and trying to find a skirt, a abysmal activity if there ever were one. Skulls abounded.

I stopped wherever it looked interesting, or just air conditioned in the case of the Magaritaville, apparently a whole parrothead-inspired margarita-flinging bar. I only stayed in its stoop for a few minutes so I could go on. In the meantime mules and horses clacked by with their tourist carriages telling of pirates and voodoo priestesses. I passed by the Voodoo priestesses’ bar and her little voodoo shop. I may have gone in there if a bunch of locals weren’t in the stoop debating something.

After I walked around the main part of the French Quarters I meandered up to Bourbon Street for shits and giggles, figured it’d be interesting people watching if nothing else. That was interesting to say the least! The first thing I stumbled upon was a seedy cabaret with a barker out front. I looked him dead in the eye to see if he’d still make his pitch and laughed when at first hesitated but then actually did! I walked by, obviously. I had no idea the States even had cabarets. Seems such an odd thing to me, bet you they probably named it such to make it sound more interesting than it actually was. In any event I walked past a lot of little strip joints and whatnot, a great deal of them with cutesy little names like The Cat’s Meow. I passed by pubs, bars, and other liquor friendly little nooks, some reading, “two drink minimum,” which seemed more than a tad bit odd. Apparently there was no room for responsible drivers here.

It was a scalding hot day and I had to take time out to lather myself up with sun screen in a public courtyard. I was melting. I ended up back in the French Market scouring the area for a cold non-alcoholic drink when in the spirit of trying new things I also bought a praline. Good thing I only bought one… it was really rather sweet, to a fault. Will not be trying that again.

I had a lot of fun just wandering around. The streets weren’t that busy, the people were friendly, and there was a lemon piper playing classic jazz on sax down at the piers. Every time a dollar was donated this hilarious musician would holler, “Thanks big guy! Have a great day!” before going right back to the same note he left off on. I didn’t come by anyone with a thick New Orleans accent either, which was fortunate as that’s probably the only US accent even I can’t translate.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

May 25, 2011 0

World’s Most Elusive Roadside Catfish – Alabama

I drove to Troy Alabama to see the world’s largest catfish, apparently some sort of stature or clunk of folk art, not really sure. Either way when I got into Troy I realized I did not have an address for the elusive big fish and Google was not being of any help, just teasing me with photos and leaving me to guess. Eventually I came across a forum post which told me which main road it was off of and that this same road had a giant metal cow and some other crazy things so off I went, finding the giant metal bull first. Damn thing was outside of a rodeo place and as anatomically correct as the artist could have done with his personal talent. Poor thing had a sweet doleful cow face and a set of giant tin balls to boot. Strange, I continued onward and somewhere down the road in front of a closed art gallery I found a giant metal rooster. Again it was constructed out of spare parts in a rather artful manner. Its face was cute and I stopped to take a photo. I continued on to find the catfish but had to leave that day without finding it, though I am sure I could make up another big fish story about it…

I drove on that night into Mobile where we decided to stop at a Cracker Barrel, as was suggested by someone I’d talked to before the trip. We just don’t have these places in the North and a name like Cracker Barrel, not to mention the appearance of the place is sure to make a great many of us Northerners a bit skittish. Still I walked in. A kid came up to me asking for money to buy baseball team uniforms. He was a black kid, acting very skittish himself, I am not entirely sure why. I gave him $4. I figured if he was skittish from social anxiety then I helped an awkward kid with his fundraiser, and if he was skittish because he was being put up to his first con (I was in a rather ghetto-ey area), I didn’t care either. It was only $4.

Mobile… what can I say about it… other than I learned of it so many times not in a positive light. I had only known anything about it because of all the atrocities committed in and around it in the turbulent 50’s and 60’s during the Civil Rights Movement. I expected the people here to be a little off because I know scars like that do not heal in an area overnight. Though the people here who could still remember these ungodly events are now getting old and dying off they still had children and grandchildren whom I am sure they told. Like I said, it takes time to heal. All this going through my head didn’t make me any more comfortable going into a place called Cracker Barrel. Oh well, so the black attendant was giving me the evil eye for a good five minutes as I waited, that was to be expected, right? Then again the clerk who I paid my restaurant bill to acted totally normal, maybe she just had personal issues. This place confused me and set me a bit on edge. It’s so much easier when you can just treat everyone as if they’re people and leave it at that. SIGH.

I went in and was served by a waiter with a sweet farm boy accent. He asked if I’d been to the local music festival. I told him I just got into town, pondering if this fraternizing with customers was a normal thing down here. In any event I ordered the catfish, I just had to… and I ate until I was stuffed to the gills. It was good! It was fried and another new southern food. I was happy when I left.

May 24, 2011 0

Getting Out of Florida

Waking up in Key Largo I decided I should spend the day trying to get out of the state of Florida. I drove all day past palm trees, past glitz, past swamps. I saw short fat palm trees, casinos, tall thin palm trees, tourist beaches, coconut palm trees, tourists traps, palm tree nurseries, and in the end I was happy to drive out of there. Shortly before I reached the border I drove through this little town advertising a new store, opened only a few days, it was like a farmer’s market type deal. I had to stop though because over the front of it was a large sign reading, “hot boiled peanuts.”

What are hot boiled peanuts? Apparently they’re exactly that. I had to try some as that sounded ghastly terrible.

There was one middle aged woman sitting there looking a bit put off, perhaps due to a lack of customers or perhaps due to the intense heat and lack of air conditioning ability in a building with no walls.

“So what is this I hear about boiled peanuts?” I said, “I’m from NH, I wanted to try them…”

“Well they’re warm and salted. Here, I don’t want you to buy anything you don’t like.” She handed me two nuts. The shells were soggy, moist, and warm. I slipped out the little meaty nut part and took an adventurous bite. It was like a tiny glob of mashed potatoes in a shell, with the hint of peanut taste. Maybe this was because aside from the meal I ate at Keren’s I was missing hot food, maybe it was because I was desperate for something different besides the PB&J’s I was sustaining myself with but either way, the boiled peanuts were amazing.

“Oh I really like them!” I exclaimed. A surprised, “Really?!” came from the woman selling it to me. I bought a big saggy wet and warm bag of them. Delicious.

“Usually I can guess people’s reactions…” The woman said. I laughed. I bought a cup of the things. She explained they’re usually eaten with soft drinks and are made from raw immature peanuts, unlike the fully grown roasted ones I was used to. I sat in the car picking at them for quite awhile until the large foam cup was nearly empty. This was my second southern food and my second success. Good thing I wasn’t about to try any chitterlings.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

May 23, 2011 0

Exploring the Florida Keys

Key Largo was gorgeous. In the morning when I packed up I took my sweet time reorganizing the Jeep and then stopped at The Shell Store. This place had shells of every kind and color in enormous buckets as well as any kind of tourist memorabilia you could ask for. I ended up buying a little turtle made out of various tiny sea shells for a dollar. It’s cute.

I continued onward discussing whether or not to take a glass bottomed boat tour. I should probably mention that besides being afraid of large boney fish I have always said I wouldn’t get on a sea-going boat, not even if I were paid… but having continuously dipped my feet in the warm waters I somehow felt more relaxed about the idea… and besides there were wild corals here, I hadn’t gotten to see any of those. I decided to go for it, but first I’d drive to Key West, the farthest of the islands. I passed Duck Key and Cow Key and Ramrod Key and all the darn keys, stopping at two beaches. One was rocky and amazing, covered in fossilized coral rocks (far to big to pick up and drag off unfortunately) and another beach which smelled really bad and consisted of 50% seaweed and 50% trash and debris. This place was almost as bad as the Wristcutter’s [a Love Story] beach! It was really bad… I was quite put off by it and the rest of Key West. The island was so full of people and cramped, such a tourist trap. It advertised it was the birthplace of the Sloppy Joe and had pubs and bars every two buildings, hotels the rest. I only stopped when I came upon a strange site… what appeared to be a brick ruin. It was what I came for… and there, sitting snidely across from a horse-drawn hearse and in front of oodles of fan mail was Robert the Doll himself, three feet worth of plushie terror. He was ADORABLE. I probably should explain… You see Robert is probably the original haunted doll. He was said to be made by an angry servant of the Otto family who practiced voodoo. He was named after the little boy (later renowned artist) he was given to and apparently held such a powerful grip on the growing lad that he never abandoned the doll, claiming that “Robert did it!” whenever anything bad would happen. The doll was said to pace, to glower out the window at children, to make evil giggles, to throw around furniture and to haunt people… You name it this doll does it! I can’t say I know the work of his owner, Robert Eugene Otto, but I have been delighted by his doll since I was ten or so. As per custom I asked the doll if I could take a photo and did so, taking the chance we could be cursed… We bought a magnet at the gift shop and perused the place. They had a whole collection of Edward Gorey stuff including The Hapless Child, perhaps because of the child-terrorizing doll in it. They even had a book on his home, the Elephant House, bizarre considering he was a Massachusetts resident, not Florida… Then again they had a book on Hemmingway’s cats, yet another Massachusetts thing. Who knows! Still, anyone adoring Gorey has got my attention.

Sooo… after that I hit the next glass bottomed boat place I could find. It was 1:35 and I literally missed it by five minutes. I decided not to wait around, to find another. I didn’t find another until I was back in Key Largo, seventy something miles away, and I was fortunate enough to just get in on time to take the last boat tour of the day. I filed onto the boat annnnd… was told there’d be a delay… The woman next to us looked on horrified, as if we’d just struck an ice burg here in the harbor. Our captain came up soon after and said she thought they’d fixed the problem. Then the motors started going and two seconds later we hear screaming from down under, two men yelling, “SHIT! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” Our captain started to stamp violently on the deck, signaling ever-so-delicately to stop shouting, you’re freaking out the tourists. We were told something else was broke and we’d have to be refunded. I left… without seeing to corals and shipwreck promised, without being able to have the chance to glimpse a casual shark or dolphin. Sad, very sad. Could it be Robert?

I left and decided I should at the very least get a good piece of pie out of this trip, Key Lime Pie… I was dubious. Except for one occasion all the lemon meringue pies I ever had were ghastly terrible, I figured lime pie would be the same… I ordered the prettiest piece of pie I’ve ever seen, decorated with swirls of whipped cream and sauce. It was actually really good! And the ice cold water that went with it was a luxury I hadn’t realized I’d missed quite so much. I drank like a camel in an oasis.

The only other memorable part of the drive was when I saw some deer aside the road, four does grazing. I didn’t realize until later they were endangered Key Deer. How cool is that? I saw something endangered alive and running around… like the feral chickens roaming the streets of Key West I couldn’t explain.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

May 23, 2011 0

Tuba City – Arizona

So I woke up in the morning in the only travel station in Tuba City, which was swamped with unseemly people since I drove in the night before, mostly rebellious and randy teenagers, probably sick of their podunk little town. The night before a wild mustang wandered into the city and walked right by the Jeep without a care in the world. Stray dogs were everywhere.

I had quite a few hours to kill so I decided to drive and see the petroglyphs that my Navajo dinosaur guide recommended the day before. I ended up driving a looong way down a road that looked like it was used mainly by horse travel. The Jeep bounced and groaned and I wove my way deeper into a little village I probably shouldn’t have been in. I passed two people and asked for directions but they spoke little English and didn’t seem to know the word petroglyph or why two lost white people would be wandering around which to be fair, is a good question.

Finally I came to the fence with the little opening I had been told was there, watched by two video cameras I’d also been warned about. I walked in, and low and behold there was indeed a rock sitting at the front absolutely covered with intricate little designs. I was taken a bit aback, not expecting that much. And then something odd happened… out of nowhere a man appeared from behind a rock and asked, “Do you have a permit to be here?”
“Permit? No?”
“Well you need a permit to be here…”
“I was told by a Navajo up at the Dinosaur Tracks place we could just see the petroglyphs…”
“Well he was wrong!”
“But… why would he say that?”
“Because he was probably intoxicated!”
“…So who are you?”
“I’m a Hopi. We take care of the land here. The Navajos weren’t protecting it so we took over.”
“…Soooo how do you get a permit?”
“Well, you can pay $150 for two to see the petroglyphs. The fee would be for me as a guide.”
“…Well I don’t have that sooo… guess I’ll be going…”

There was another hiker behind me who came out when I did. He muttered to me, “I guess that was that!” I replied, “mmmhmmm.”

I was confused for awhile about the whole incidence. I wondered why two tribes would be fighting over a set of petroglyphs from a completely different (and extinct) tribe. Later I learned that the Hopi claim to be the desendants of the Anasazi, who I had always thought were wiped out centuries ago by migrating Aztecs. This was a bitter and bloody time period, from before the time of written records. I guess that’s why it’s all still a bit hazy… In any event the Hopi currently hate the Navajo as they are favored by the US government, who have granted then Navijo Nation, a large swath of land they can do whatever they want on. (“Here, have a token piece of land while us white people take the rest. THANKS!”) The Hopi have only recently received any land, and coincidentally it was a little block right in the middle of Navajo territory, surrounded on all sides. I might be a bit cranky too. I’m not sure why the Navajo have gotten away with so much out of our stingy “oops-didn’t-mean-to-do-that” government, but I think it probably has something to do with how they helped greatly in World War II, giving us code talkers (based on the Navajos unwritten language) who the Nazis were never able to decipher.

I left. And continued on to a market to have breakfast, or lunch, o whatever it is I normally eat. Entering the store a smiling middle-aged Navaho man stopped someone ahead of me and asked, “Where you escaping to?!” He was thoroughly confused. “Your shirt looks like a prison outfit.” I couldn’t help but interject. “Ohhhhhhhhh… I don’t know…” I did my shopping and ended up in the cashier line with the same man who smiled cheerfully and said, “You have a good day sir!”

Then when I was out in the parking lot an old man approached and tapped weakly at the window. He wheezed, “Where you headed to?” He needed a ride to Seattle. I weren’t going in that direction anyway. I gave him $3 for a Gatorade so he’d at least be comfortable waiting for another ride. I was on the phone with my mother when another knock at the window came from my side. It was from another Navajo man, grinning like a Cheshire Cat he greeted me with the strangest statement ever, “I LOVE white people! Just wanted you to know that.” I nearly started to laugh wondering where the hell this was going. “I’ve done prayers for the health of some white people before. I gave them arrowheads for their prayers. I wish I could give you two an arrow head I’ve made…” “Awe?” I couldn’t resist saying awe even though I got the vibrant feeling this guy was a flimflam man, possibly the best. He continued his story. “Anyways, I live down on a farm down that way. We grow corn and beans and a bunch of other things but 25% of our crop just got washed away.” (Indeed there were forest fires and flooding washing a great deal away in this vague area.) He went on with his story adding all sorts of useless details, eventually ending with, “And I need to bring my daughter to the hospital. She’s five, has chicken pox, and we don’t have the money for gas…” I gave him three dollars as well and he left, saying, “God bless you! God bless!” I pondered which god that was… and felt $3 was worth the long, rambling, crazy story. I’ve given a few bucks to beggars who have done much less. At least this time I was thoroughly entertained. Surely that must be worth something.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

May 21, 2011 0

Staying with Friends in Miami

I ended up in Miami to meet a new friend, Keren. I was told she had an autistic four year old son and just to expect that. I didn’t mind, of course, I’ve dealt with plenty enough children and special needs people to know how to behave around them comfortably.

Miami was… exactly how I thought it’d be… It was big, city-like, sunny, boiling hot, and there was loud Cuban music playing everywhere. I don’t mean there was loud music playing out of clubs and whatnot… I mean you could hear people’s cars a mile or more down the block and private residences? She had the misfortune to have a neighbor who cranked his music so loud that we could not hear each other talk. We were literally yelling at each other at the top of our voices, “HI! SORRY ABOUT THE NEIGHBORS! THEY’RE A BIT OBNOXIOUS!”

Keren was a funny woman, vibrantly opinionated, full of piss and vinegar. Her son was sweet and took a liking to me. He chatted up a storm and I played games with him and exchanged corny little knock knock jokes. We ate pizza and stayed up into the wee morning hours talking to her father, a rabbi, telling us about the state of Israel, which was oddly enlightening to a gentile such as myself.

I think Keren was just as amused by me as I was of her. She kept calling me adorable and polite because I waited to be invited to sit at her dinner table. She says Miami is full of brash mannerless people and I was just… different. I slept over at her house and took the most amazing hot shower there before I left. I’m a bit embarrassed to say it was the first shower I had taken since I left and I was getting tired of the baby wipe sponge baths and my hair being so greasy I could hear my brush squicking through it. In the morning she fed me grits. I’d yet to get around to trying any southern foods so this was actually something I was up for. They were awesome! Buttery and delicious and I just don’t know why I haven’t had them before… I’m so getting some when I go home. I left a half a bag of S’more marshmallows, apparently something they don’t sell down there. “Why are these marshmallows so huge?!” Funny how much discussion those marshmallows have been giving me lately.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!

May 21, 2011 0