A shipping snafu had us spending an extra day in the Montgomery, Alabama, area to wait for a package, so we had a very leisurely Monday morning. Once we were finally up and (sort of) at ‘em, we opened the curtains to see a man on an ATV taking a pony on a leash for its morning constitutional. I’m learning to love you, Alabama.

After checking out, we drove to Opelika to find a couple of local thrift stores that we’d found online. One of them seemed to have disappeared, the second was actually a day-old bakery outlet and the third had a closed sign in the window. But there was a lady walking toward the door, so we pulled in in the hopes that they’d be opening soon.

It turned out that The Buildmore Store isn’t actually open on Mondays, but Lisa let us have a look around and chatted with Jenna for a bit anyway. The store is run by the Alabama Rural Ministry, which assists locals with home repairs. That’s a cause I can get behind, and even if I couldn’t? I’d shop at Buildmore if I were nearby. They had boxes of unopened, brand-new light fixtures; piles and piles of tile; a ton of doors and windows; and the largest shelving unit I’ve ever seen. It had to be 12 feet tall.

After parting ways with Lisa we drove into Montgomery in search of a Target. We ended up driving through a shopping area that I believe is the exact opposite of the thrift-store mentality (Williams-Sonoma, anyone?) on the way there, but I felt right at home again. We stocked up on supplies (c.h.o.c.o.l.a.t.e. mostly) and then went to meet Jenna’s friend Cecilia, who lives in Montgomery and graciously offered to show us around and let us sleep in her house.

Did you know that Montgomery is home to the Hank Williams Museum? It is, and we went. It was equal parts interesting and creepy. We drove by his grave, too, which was ornate and peaceful and not at all creepy. “Junior” pays for ornate floral arrangements for the site, but the lady at the museum said they’ve had some issues with people stealing the arrangements. They had a picture of a lovely guitar made mostly of roses that was stolen in the most recent pilfering. I can’t imagine a much lower petty crime than stealing flowers off a grave. (I didn’t get any pictures at the museum, because they were only allowed in the lobby. I was chastised for taking a picture in the gift shop. Which is adjacent to the lobby.)

So now we’re hanging out in Cecelia’s dining room, which at this moment looks a lot like a coffee shop, what with all the laptops and typing going on. Assuming that the errant package arrives on time, we should be heading off for Mobile tomorrow. Mobile is Rockford’s birthplace. I’m fairly certain they have neither a statue nor a museum marking the event, but they really ought to. He’s a great guy.

Lessons learned on Day 3