A Strange and Evil Place

This is the last of the absolutely, positively, 100% TRUE WEIRD TALES about the strange Christmas Place that I have put up for Halloween this year. Happy Halloween Everyone!

Blair, MS> Immediately, after we bought the famous Christmas Place, the local people laughingly told us not to wander off the main roads. They said that the rumor was that strange rituals had occurred in the darkest part of the woods and that they were haunted. We paid no attention to the superstitions as we have tried to walk and learn every part of the property. Trying to learn the remote backside of the property was especially difficult. Crossing the Beaver Dam to get to the back part of the famous Christmas Place is tricky. A narrow road leads down the side of a steep bluff, crosses a dam widened for a tractor, then the road winds back up another steep and treacherous bluff until you reach the top of the ridge. This is tricky and dangerous even if you are on a fourwheeler and not much scouting is done in the area.
We have a few fields there that we hunt, but we mostly stay on the main paths on top of the ridges. The area is wild and treacherous. Most people let the deer come to them if they hunt over there. Not me! Hell no! I decided to do some serious scouting in the deepest part of the area. I was going to find that monster buck or die trying. I did not know that I had made a decision that would affect me from now on.
Early in the morning, I made the treacherous journey across the Beaver Dam, wound my way back in behind what we call the Secret Field, parked, and made my way into the woods. I followed deer trails and creeks, explored ridges and valleys to get to the unknown area. Then the idea was to try to make a big circle that would lead back to my fourwheeler.
Deep in the woods I found a good ridge of oaks mixed with old cedar trees that was loaded with hooks and scrapes that really got my attention. Slowly walking I found a narrow split in the ridge and followed a deer trail that led into dense brush and thorns. Pushing my way through, I found a narrow hidden ridge running at 90 degrees to where I was before. Eureka! Or Ah-Hah! I thought and eased down the cedar filled ridge.

Big hooks were everywhere, but I noticed that many of the trees had strange markings on them. The further I went, the more strangely marked trees there were. Then I started to notice that spaced along the ridge were strangely constructed wood figures and odd piles of stones. I stared, trying to understand who would have made these markers and why. They seemed hauntingly familiar.
Moving on, I saw more and more of these along with hundreds of the trees marked with strange writing. Finally I reached a large grassy clearing that had a huge pile of large rocks in the center. I moved out into the clearing and stepped up on the rocks. Looking around and feeling slightly alarmed and amazed, I could see all the woods around the clearing were filled with stick figures, the strange piles of rocks and the trees marked with the mysterious writing. It was quiet and still as I surveyed the clearing. My heart pounded in my ears, but there was a feeling of age here, that no one had been at the spot in a very long time. The stick figures were rotted and many covered with leaves or overgrown.
Looking downward, I saw a long flat rock in the center of the huge stone pile. The rock looked exactly like a table, but had a narrow channel worn or cut down the center. This channel and most of the top of the rock table was covered in moss and discolored, but you could tell it was man-made for some reason. I studied it in the quietness and the thought came that it was stained with dried blood.
I stepped closer to investigate while my mind and eyes took in the whole scene. Someone bound, helpless and pleading, and a huge knife plunging into their chest as hooded figures chanted black rituals around the outcropping. Fires burned as the moon lit up the rock just before the knife slid into the helpless victim. Blinking and gasping, I staggered back and landed on my rear beside the table.
A strange rock was half buried there and mesmerized I pulled it out of the rubble and stared. The rock told me all I needed to know. My heart was beating wildly as I scrambled up and quickly moved out of there. No one had been to that spot in years, but my whole body screamed to me that I was in the wrong place and to get the hell out of there.
I left the evil place and have never returned.

Creepy Weekend Plans

Yes I know today is Thursday, but there is a lot going on this weekend. Tomorrow is Halloween and I have to be in Water Valley for that. Tomorrow I also have to post my last absolutely 100% True Halloween Story of the year. Later, all the good spooky movies are on TV that night and to top it off, I get to sneak and get candy all night. I love those little Crunch bars!
Hope we have trick-or-treaters this year and for some reason, most of the kids dress up as little Othmar! I do enjoy it and Camo wants to wear her Thunderhoof outfit. Hey! Maybe I can get Denise to wear some kind of outfit that night, too!
Because of Halloween on a Friday, I will not be able to be at camp that night and so will miss my opportunity to set up watch at The Haunted Train Trestle. Just my luck.
I will be heading to camp bright and early Saturday morning. Time to actually get in the woods and pick out three or four places to concentrate on hunting this year.
The Rebs are on the 11:30 game so that will disrupt things a little, Win and they are in bowl contention, lose and forget it. Paul and Mark will be at the game to handle things. Don't screw up!

Pull the Trigger !!

Go and read a really good story from the Bushman at Way In The Bush about how he just can't pull the trigger while hunting a certain stand.
While you are drooling, go to Marians Hunting Stories or to my friend at Moose Droppings to get the story on what is probably the new Mississippi State Record Whitetail.
PS- As you can see from the above pictures, I have better things to do than worry about that Stupid Vampire. Geez!

Ghost Writer- Wandering Jack

I have traveled many miles to be here late this night to write on Rex’s Blog. He and his dog are fast asleep at home and tomorrow he will wonder how I came here and why. He does not really understand my reasons; but the truth is that I just want to tell a little of my story for your reading pleasure and to put a little of my life and thoughts down in print.
The people that live along the edge of the Delta call me Wandering Jack.
I am a Vampire.
My name is not important, Jack works well and I actually like it.
Rex keeps his stories short, so I will give a very quick sketch of who I am and how I came to the so-called famous Christmas Place.
In 1856 I was hired as the overseer for the plantation and actually lived in the house they call The Witches House. My job was to insure the success of the farm. The cotton had to be planted on time and harvested. Land had to be cleared. The mules, cattle and other animals had to be fed and taken care of, and the slaves had to be kept happy and comfortable. My life changed when a young woman arrived from Europe to stay at the big house that the Parkers had on the hill.
We fell madly in love and with my share of the harvest; we planned to buy our own land and start a plantation together. What I did not know was that a vampire had marked her as his own and even though she had escaped, he was following close behind.
I was attacked late one night returning from Tchula near the old covered bridge that crossed Black Creek. Riding an old mule, that suddenly balked at the bridge, I was jerked from my saddle and felt the monsters fangs drive deep into my throat. I was helpless in his grasp and died within a few minutes. Death would have been merciful, but the vampire wanted retribution and his revenge gave me this hellish half life.
When I finally awoke, I was in a shallow grave and several days had gone by. The thirst for blood was beyond anything imaginable and I admit that I killed many men and women before I was able to control the bloodlust and learn what I was. The beautiful lady I loved had disappeared that night and I have never seen or heard from either of them again.
The advent of the Civil War helped hide me, but the local people knew and feared my shadow. As time went on I learned how to stay hidden and began a search to stop the overwhelming desire to drink fresh blood. Years and years of trying different animals’ blood and now I have finally been able to perfect a serum to do this. The blood comes from an unlikely animal, the white-tail deer.
I collect the blood about once a month and take it to my underground home that is hidden deep in the woods of the Christmas Place. I do not bother anyone and spend my time studying history, botany, chemistry, philosophy and biology, but occasionally the desire to speak with people overwhelms me in my forced isolation and Rex has become one of my favorite people since our meeting one morning in a story he calls The Collector.
I linger near their camp, enjoy the stories they tell around the campfire, and rejoice in their successful hunts. I am always somewhere near this fine group of hunters so do not fear me if we should meet in the darkness. Unless, I have not had the serum from the deer blood and I am hungry....

Preparing for Youth Weekend

This past weekend, Burney, Mark and I, tried to get everything ready for the big Youth Hunt. Burney, Austin and his friends handled stands. New gunrests, making sure the stands were safe, and making sure the stands would hold a man and a young hunter. They did a great job and that part seems ready.
Mark, Spencer and I handled last minute bush-hogging and making sure the fields were ready by overseeding rye grass on many of the fields. The grass should be up for the hunt.

We also went up the lake and prepared our stands for opening day. Camo tried to drive the boat and when we saw deer she took off after the horrible things as soon as we hit land.
I am concerned about the Youth Hunt and want to point out one of the main concerns with bringing in people that do not hunt much. This picture to the right is of a large white-tail buck. Look closely.

This picture to the left is NOT a deer. Matt, please study this very, very closely and email the pic to Bill who might confuse it for a moose. My cousin Jim Lammey is coming for the hunt this year and I may have to tape the two pictures to his hunting vest so he can double check if he sees something.

The Big Wedding

Water Valley, MS> The big wedding and social event of the year was held recently at the home of Eddie and Pat Ray in Water Valley. Their daughter, Nancy Margaret, married some zillionaire from up in Washington, DC.
Every woman in town has been frantically trying to get just the right outfit to wear for the last month, while the men have been faking illness and hiding out anywhere they could to get out of going to the affair. I can assure you, no one got away..

The wedding was in their front yard and it was an absoulutely gorgeous affair. The bride was radiant and beautiful, I can't remember anything else except the men wore tuxes and all the women were very good looking. The party was different! Here is a pic of Denise and our friend Kim Jones




Champagne flowed like water, And the guest were treated royally. A large tent behind the house served as a dining room and dance floor. It did not take long for it to really get rocking. Pat and Eddie mingled with everyone as did the bride and groom to make everyone feel welcome and to thank them. The Ray family is a class act.

Soon, skimpily dressed women were passing out big cigars and I moved to the smoking lounge behind the stage. I met a tremendous (and very nice) contingent from D.C. and enjoyed talking with them. We did not talk politics.
Denise was elegant and beautiful, so was Kim. Mr. Jones was there too and he looked pretty good for his age.
The party got wilder and wilder and the music got faster and faster. Suddenly we were in the middle of the dance floor whirling like dervishes! Finally, we escaped back to where we could breath but you can see my photo is a little wild.
I am proud of the people of Water Valley. There were no fights, no one got stabbed and the people who got drunk did not make fools of themselves. All in all, a very good night.
They had a photo booth also, that Denise and I managed to slid into. She tried to get frisky but you know how shy I am.
In the end, We drank like fish, ate like hogs and stole as many cigars as we could carry. We need one of these every week.

More of The Squirrel Hunt

Lies and Bloody Marys

Roy and Baxter discuss who will dress the squirrels

Spencer learns how to dress squirrels

Hershel Howell presides over the hunt

Voices

Dark Hollow, MS> You can hunt anywhere you want on the famous Christmas Place if you are stout enough, tough enough and brave enough. You can hunt anywhere on the property, anywhere except one strange area that is off limits.
Rex and Mark had scouted this spot and found a lot of deer sign, had even taken digital pictures, and then had almost dragged Hershel to the area to have a look. It was a really good spot located at the rear of the property where 40 acres was not hunted because it was so steep to get into. It was a hard area to get to and hard on his legs but the digital pictures of the hooks left by a gigantic buck fired him up and he had gladly accepted Mark and Rex’s offer to put a stand up for him. They had even opened up a trail and tied a rope so he could get down the steep side of the hollow safely.
This gigantic crater is almost 300 yards long and almost circular. It is also about 300 feet deep as if a giant meteor had slammed into the bluff a million years ago and had finally healed over.
Hershel Howell sat back in his stand waiting for the deer to show up. The day had started cool but was warming up quickly and he shook off a sleepy feeling.
He studied the leaves and bark of the trees around him, watched for deer movement and settled himself for a good hunt. Looking around, he realized that he did not recognize the tall group of trees scattered in the center of the bowl and the peculiar shape of the bark. He concentrated on a large tree about 30 yards from him and he studied on it. Tall, light colored trees almost like a Silver Maple, but studded with strange knots. The more he looked at it, the more it seemed to take shape in his mind, until at last he realized that he could make out what looked like eyes staring at him from the tree knots.
Smiling at the odd shapes, he again scanned the small opening that he was hunting.
As the wind silently moved through the trees, he thought he heard his name being whispered very softly. He turned to see if someone was there. The area was quiet and empty. He knew he was just imagining things.
Arriving before day, he had slowly wound down the steep trail to the bottom, eased up a trail to a low ridge and slipped through a gap that opened up into a flat filled with buck sign and where his stand was located. He was perfectly camouflaged and alert, waiting for the big buck to run his scrape line.
The small ridge he had slipped through completely circled the spot. The large, strange trees filled the bowl, but left a small circular little meadow in the exact center. Very strange, but the famous Christmas Place was known for strange things. The stand was at the west edge of the clearing in two oak trees. He pulled his compass to check direction and the wind but all the compass did was spin around and would not work.
Another whisper caught his attention. Louder this time, it was his name being very softly spoken. His first name and then he heard his full name again from another direction. He sat up as it seemed like the trees around him were repeating his name. All noise had stopped. No birds sang, No squirrels chattered. It was deathly quiet except for his name being repeated. Suddenly scared, he looked around and it seemed that it was a little darker in the hollow than it was before, and it seemed that the trees were a little closer together.
His name was being repeated softly over and over, until he knew that it wasn’t a bad practical joke. His eyes were drawn to movement and fear rushed through him as he locked on the knots of the trees around him and realized that they had opened and hundreds of eyes were staring at him and a slight movement of the limbs seemed to beckon for him to move closer.
Fear made him almost jump from the deer stand. He took the safety off his rifle and flew down the ladder. Quickly he ran towards the little gap that led out of the bowl. Panic set in as he tried to follow the path that led back to the road. Limbs brushed him raking at his back and face. The strange trees seemed to grab at his arms and legs. The trees did not seem to be where they were when he had arrived before day. He dodged and twisted until he hit the trail again and with legs pumping, he escaped through the gapped opening.
Birds sang, and squirrels moved around him as he caught his breath and moved his shaky legs toward the camp. Sweat covered him and his legs throbbed terribly as he leaned against a large white oak for a minute to rest. Looking back at the rim of the hollow, it now seemed haunted and dark, and he thought he could just barely hear his name still being whispered. The whispering voice now seemed edged with anger and violence and called louder as Hershel headed up the side of the bluff to his fourwheeler.
He never hunted there again. The stand is still there but no one is allowed to hunt in there. It is off limits and he forced the camp to set that area aside as a refuge with no one allowed to scout for deer or to go into the area.
I checked some of the digital pictures we had taken there and zoomed in on them. You can see the knotty spots that he mentioned and you can laugh it off, and you can come hunt all over our property, but you can’t hunt there..

New Links Make You Thinks

I have added two new links to the sidebar. The first is Hunting Safaris and they have some good information about their safari business and some great stories. the also offer you the chance to make a little money booking for them or earn enough credit to go on one of their hunts.
If you want an elephantocerous on you wall or a Grino or one of those bad African kittycats they are the men to see. They can get you a shot at a Water Buffalo, all kinds of funny looking deery critters and if you pay extra, you might get a shot at KeesKennis, or at least get to stop by and have a drink with him. Go check them out.
The second link I have to be very careful with. The name of the site is simply Kill More Ducks. Now look, everyone knows duck hunters are crazy. Rich and crazy. Kind of like that Goon in North Dakota. I will give them credit, they have a good blog with great duck hunting information. These guys have excellent photography of the swamps and mist with the mallards flocking in. A very good blog with a lot of action, go visit; tell them that the richest, crookedest lawyer in the south sent you. They will say "You mean Paul Howell?"

Squirrel Camp 2008

This truly was the best squirrel camp we have ever had, even though Matt and Othmar did not make it again this year. Squirrels were plentiful and everyone had good hunts. Here is a pic of the hunters sitting around discussing the days hunt.
The total number of squirrels taken for the weekend was 136, yes 136. We would have gotten more but we broke all the sticks we were knocking them in the head with. Squirrels were everywhere! Here is a pic of the first mornings take of 94 and the hunters.
Now a little bragging. This was Spencers first squirrel hunt and the first time he had ever shot my 12 guage. I was amazed! He blasted squirrels right and left! The first time we went he shot five of the rascals and the next morning he got three squirrels and found an antler.
A big congratulations to him on his first hunt!
More pics to come!

Halloween At the Christmas Place

Thunderhoof has been driving me crazy as usual this week over Halloween. He can't wait. He loves to stand in the shadows just behind the big fire at camp and listen as we tell ghost stories and occassionally flip him a marshmallow.
He has some wild stories too and he knows all the secrets of the bluffs.
Be prepared, more spooky stories will be coming soon.
In other news, Spencer and I are off to Squirrel Camp this weekend. He doesn't have to draw me a picture.

The Alligator Problem

As Stated we have an alligator problem at the famous Christmas Place. The Alligator is at least 8 feet long and has taken up residence in the lake. My dog does not like alligators and neither do I. What to do, what to do?
After considerable thought I decided to ask our readers what they think.
Please vote in our poll or leave a comment.

What To do about the Alligator
	Blast It and get new Luggage
	Catch it and Put It in Pauls' Bunk
	Get Wardens to Remove It
	Leave it Alone (maybe it will eat Mark)
	Fatten It Up for Thanksgiving
	Let Thunderhoof Handle The Problem
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Greetings and Blogulations

I want to comment on a neat blog (web site) making some really cool hunting shirts. The name of the site is Field Dress and they are a great place to get your kids and family some great shirts for Christmas. The designs are really sharp and original, plus they have drawn some big deer heads and antlers that stand out to show your support of hunting. They have also added some really good little quotes to personalize the shirts. Go see him! Tell him Thunderhoof sent you.

I would also like to welcome a new blog to the OBS and to my site. This site is aptly named Way In The Bush. I'm pretty sure he is another Canuckian like Othmar, and has already taken one deer this year. He is into deer hunting of course, trapping and fishing too. He also has a crazy dog, which I completely understand.
Go by and give him a hello and help him get his blog really rolling.

The Importance of Being Rex

Dad came in yesterday and wanted to know how soon I would be headed to camp for the big squirrel weekend. I said I did not know, it may be as late as Saturday.
This did not go over well with Dad.
He said “Well, who is going to help all the hunters find their places in the woods? Come to think of it, who is going to dress all the squirrels, keep the camp clean, bring in wood or carry people on site seeing trips around the property?”
I gave him the evil eye but he ignored it and started rambling.
“There is a lot to do, you need to get there early. In fact you need to go down Thursday to help me get everything ready for supper.”
I asked if he had any other sons.
He looked at me like a cow looking at a new gate and said “They’re busy.”

Blue Moon of the Scarecrow

I must have walked by the old scarecrow at least 100 times. I have even clowned around and had my picture taken with the funny dummy that seems to guard the old fields at the edge of the delta, but that night coming out of the woods it struck me as strange and slightly scary.
It was bow season and I had hunted up in the Crossover area at the top of the bluff. The blue moon was rising as I turned on my flashlight and headed back to camp, (a blue moon is commonly known as the second full moon in a month) and I had to pass right by the old scarecrow at the base of the hills where it turned from bluff to delta. This area is known as the cornfields because of the narrow strip of row crop land that used to separate the bottom land from the hills. We took the old cornfields and put them in CRP and now the old scarecrow is in a thick area of young trees and 8 ft. high Johnson grass tied on a tall pole. Even so, the old ragged scarecrow has always been a welcome site to say hello to and we left it just as we found it.
He is dressed in a bright (but faded) plaid shirt, old torn jeans tied with rope and a worn straw hat. He is made up of a couple of old burlap bags sewn together and stuffed with straw and bound with rope. His head and face are a piece of workman’ leather sewn on, with the face lopsidedly painted there with a wide grin in red paint. My image had always been of a happy-go-lucky jester.
It was a low red moon shining as I finally came to the edge of the old field that night and I was eager to get to my 4-wheeler and back to camp. I had my flashlight on, not because I really needed it but have always been taught to use it coming out of the woods for safety. My mind was on dinner, who got a deer, and the nice buck that I had let go.
When I got even with the scarecrow and spotted him through the high grass, I said “Good Evening, Mr. Scarecrow! Hope you will keep an eye on that big buck for me tonight.” I walked on.
A slight movement caught my eye and I turned to look at the scarecrow again. I would have sworn I saw the head slightly turn and the arms raise up from it’s side. Instant fear froze me for a second and I stood studying the scarecrow through the grass. Had a bird or coon jumped and moved the straw man? I finally walked closer, pushed the weeds aside, and looked at the scarecrow. In the gleam of my light I saw nothing out of place but an eerie feeling was still rising in my stomach and I felt the hair on the back of my neck tingling. I stood my ground and looked all around with my light and said. “Sorry to disturb you, old friend” “Time to get to the house” I turned and walked away, but found myself watching the figure out of the corner of my eye. I even found myself looking behind me as I walked the 75 yards to my 4-wheeler. Once there I could not find my key.
Forgetting the scarecrow I feverishly looked through all my pockets. I thought for a minute. I must have dropped it at the scarecrow. I did not relish the idea of going back; in fact I was really nervous about doing so. I knew that all superstition was silly but at the Christmas Place, things are sometimes not what they seem. I shrugged off the feeling and went back shining my light on the ground looking for the key. Soon I was in the high grass carefully looking for the shine of metal. The scarecrow became secondary and truth is that I was not scared anymore and was concentrating on finding the key. A glint as I turned and it took me a minute to realize what I was seeing.
The scarecrow was gone and hanging on the wooden cross-beam that held him up was the 4-wheeler key.
I did not tell anyone the story and wonder whether the Blue Moon played a part in the strange night. To this day the scarecrow still stands on his part of The Christmas Place during the daylight hours, but I do not know where he goes at night.

Wrapping Up France

Denise, Sadie and I roamed the streets of Paris and after awhile we learned how to blend in with the locals and not look like tourist.
As an appraiser I marveled in the spectacular architecture everywhere we went and the pure sense of history with every step we took.
History, immense monuments and great restaurants fill Paris. (All you folks back home need to know that it is true that they eat snails over here, and no I did not eat one of the horrible things.)

We finally made the Eiffel Tower and you can not tell how tall it is from the pictures. I measured it with my eye when I reached the very top and it is at least 4 miles high, I swear. There were 10,000 people roaming around the little decks they have on it. Pretty Hairy, but you can see for 50 miles and I did not go to Paris to not climb it. We spent an hour or so gazing at the wonderful city below us and then it was time to go see the rest of the city.

We visited a wonderful Church called The Sacred Heart, we went to the Pantheon where the great writers of history were buried and roamed the crypts. We saw spires and statues and even had a wonderful picnic with Sadie in the Luxembourg Gardens. There is a lot of wine drinking there considering that Cokes were $10.
Finally we reached Notre Dame Cathedral, and as we approached I could see that Quasimodo guy jumping around the bells and gargoyles and making a nuisance of himself. I thought I saw some giant antlers up there too.
Entering Notre Dame, you get a real sense of holiness and wonder. It is so beautiful that you can not believe that it was built by man without Divine Guidance.
I said a prayer and lit a candle there for my mother.
I did not get to talk with the bellringer, I do think he spit at me from the tower though. The sense of wonder and renewed faith from just entering the great cathedral still holds with me though and I will return to visit it again.
Notre Dame
the Sacred Heart
A Great Time

Vacationing With Thunderhoof

""No!" I told that stupid deer to stay home and not follow me on vacation. Did he? Of course not. I arrived in Ireland at the Ashford Castle and before dark I heard him splashing around in the fountains. Did the mangement get on to him? No! He spent half his time splashing around with the Lake Monster, racing ghostly suits of armor though the courtyard at all hours, running up and down the country bragging about his homeland and trying to slip up and drink my Guinness. Plus the beautiful Irish lasses loved him. Made me ill.

Finally, Denise and I thought we gave him the slip, but our first morning in France he was standing on the corner wearing a French beret. Yes, those French women mobbed him as usual. He did not get to go up the Eiffel Tower with us. He was too big for the elevator and you could hear crowds ohhing and ahhing over him as he stood crunching and popping chestnuts everywhere we went.


Thunderhoof said he had known that Napolean fellow and he wanted to show us the sites, especially an old sculpture done of him as a kid. They let him in the Louvre free of charge, something about being a national monument. I almost threw up, but did get a pic of Denise with the varmints sculpture.

Lurking At The Louvre

After a forced march across Paris, we arrived at the front of the Louvre. I have heard all my life about that Moaning Lisa girl and I wanted to check her out for myself. Being a self-styled expert on women moaning, I wanted to find out exactly what kind of moans she made. Here is a pic of us in the gigantic park in front of the palaces that make up the museum.

We had to wander through gallery after gallery of all kind of paintings, sculptures and artifacts that no one cares about until we reached the gallery that had her in it. There were about a million people in there. I got as close as I could. All my friends back in Mississippi need to know that she never moaned at all. Not a sound, even though she kind of gave me the eye before I left. Here is Denise and Sadie laughing at me for some reason.

I was disappointed of course but there was another hot chick somewhere in the gigantic museum that I wanted to visit, so we headed back through the museum to find her. We wandered through more gallerys of artsy stuff that no one cares about until we got to the Greco-Roman gallery and there she was standing in the middle of the crowd. Her name is Venus-de-Milo. She was not wearing a top and I have to admit she was pretty hot for a woman with no arms. She secretly slipped me her number while Denise was not looking and we headed outside to see if we could go up that big lightning rod in the center of Paris known as the Eiffel Tower.

French Beyond Belief

The next day we were up and at 'em. Sadie picked us up and we headed toward the center of Paris. We went down a flight of stairs and did you know that they have trains under the ground? I know, me neither. We hopped on one of these and the next thing I know we are coming up right in front of the Arc de Triomph We stared at this tremendous Arc and tried to cross the street. It would be a triumph to do so without getting killed. The monument has a circular street around it and the cars were whizzing along at 80 or 90 mph. Finally we found a tunnel that goes under the street and got to it. You can not tell how immense it is from pictures. That Napolean knew what he was doing. Breath taking architecture and the true symbol of France. It celebrates all the victorious Armies of France and the unknown soldier. Spectacular!
We headed south and I kept watching the gigantic Eiffel Tower that stands over the city. Walking the streets and going through the small parks I noticed that all these areas were lined or filled with the same kind of trees.
On closer inspection I found that they were all Chestnut trees. The huge nuts were everywhere! The whole city is filled with them! We ended up by the river and found a familiar flame sticking out of the pavement. It is directly over the spot where Princess Diana died and has become a makeshift memorial to her.
We crossed the bridge and let me tell you, every bridge there is a work of art. Towering statues of gold, bronze and copper adorn them and small canal boats drift the ancient River. Sadie was wonderful but all those people spoke a foreign language, so we could not fiollow everything that was going on. Saw Gypsies that tried to convince you they just found a ring and spent a lot of time begging or selling cheap souvenirs. People walked the street all day and night enjoying the city, and we stopped at a lot of outdoor cafes'. They did not have Guinness.