At the end of it all we were sitting on the courthouse square in McDonough. Canned oldies emanated from the flower beds around us, but the shade was nice and, being 2 bloody marys into the afternoon, we didn’t really care.
the day began with a trip to Rex Village, we didn’t even have to get on an interstate, just drive straight down Moreland, Hwy 23, cross over 675, zig zag through a subdivision, over the train tracks until you come upon it. The remnants of the tiny mill village felt like Port William to me, like I would find Jayber Crow at the barber shop. I mean, there were a lot of cars at the cut ‘n’ curl. P and I wandered under the yellow tape here and over it there, determining that quite a few “No Trespassing” signs were not meant for us, or for here, and went on, following the path by the creek. We didn’t go too far, but before we knew it we found ourselves knee-deep in creek sand with no one to pull us out! I’ll go ahead and point out that this was P getting his feet wet with a little emily-style adventuring, you gotta break em in somehow right? we did get out of the creek bed and washed off at the mill, saw a train, and got on out of there, headed to Jonesboro and Tara country.
Now, I have no desire to follow any Gone with the Wind-ness, but there we were, and P let me lead him down a long hot sidewalk to Stately Oaks, supposed MM inspiration, only to turn around and walk back (I may be a student of Historic Preservation but i am a little over paying $12 to see an antebellum house museum). I’m not sure if he had it in mind beforehand or if all this Tara business did it, but that’s when the bloody mary mission began, it was going to be a P-style adventure too apparently.Jonesboro is a liquor-free county but thanks to some helpful fellows at the Cuban butcher on Tara Blvd we got outside the city limits and were mixing drinks in the trunk before too long. The cocktails took us through a picnic lunch, a historic cemetery (trespassing #2) with some mid-1800s Slaughters (K’s family) buried in it, and on to McDonough where we roamed antique stores with no money and ended up, yes, back at the square. The heat and vodka combined, I was about to take a nap on the square despite the tunes but P wisely proposed we shake off the August roads of Clayton and Henry counties and head back to the metropolis.