Break. Over.

If The Road Less Taken were a geographical spot, this is it. I think this is in Mississippi. It can't be in west Alabama because there are no Dollar Generals on the horizon. Beautiful, though, don't you think?

Forgive the pictorial review and its cheapo ways. No blog entry since … when? … June 9? That’s one pathetic and empty promise of “fun things in store in the coming days.” So to catch up, I’ve assembled this very random collection of images captured in faraway places like Louisiana, Mississippi and possibly a few spots throughout Alabama. As the saying goes, you have to crawl before you can walk, which really has nothing to do with the long break or the lame pictorial post. But maybe it helps to justify both in some way. I’ll get my groove back. Maybe even by Thursday. Is that how grooves work? They get declared and reclaimed? Then assigned a deadline?

The owner of this pig hangs out near The Corner at Jackson Square. If I understood his explanation correctly, the owner is planning to take the money he is collecting in a (sigh) pink piggy bank to pay for the pig to be sent to BP as a way to express his discontent toward the handling of the Deep Water Horizon disaster.

I will be the first to admit that the Cajun dialect can throw me, but I am certain that the woman in the hat was explaining that, as a young girl, she rode a pig just like this one to school every day.

The true test of quality Mexican fast food is not in the taste, but in how fast you regret eating it. So you can imagine the risk I was taking--and the faith I had in Taco Casa--by ordering two customized tacos to go for my two-hour drive across a stretch of rural Mississippi...alone.

This is the look of a girl ready to get her groove back. As for the gentleman to her right, he's watched the groove come and go for lo these past 20 years. That explains the chair between them and the cool swig of a caffeinated drink. But it doesn't explain why the new camera has the date off by one day. This was taken on Independence Day, which if memory serves, is observed on July 4. Somebody (the man to my right, I imagine) needs to read the instruction booklet that came with the new camera. Because we all know it's not gonna' be me.

Really, this does not adequately sum up the last month of my life. But it’s a start. A sputtering, burping, hiccuping start, but a start nonetheless . . .

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