I was on a train for 11 hours on Saturday. I really should’ve written this post-trip wrap-up then, but I was too busy luxuriating in my private accommodations, to which I upgraded after sitting next to a plague-ridden fellow plebeian in coach for two hours. And then I was so unbelievably tired when I finally got home. I think I needed time for everything to marinate before I wrote about it.

My trip with Jenna of All Thrifty States was a blast. It was exhausting, and long, and sweaty. I am not a camper by any stretch of the imagination, but sleeping in an air-conditioned RV was infinitely preferable to sleeping in a tent. I’d consider renting one if Rockford and I ever decided to do a long road trip.

I missed the kids all day, every day. They rewarded me for that by being jaw-droppingly nutso on Monday and yesterday. I missed Rockford, too, but I think I’m a little more accustomed to being away from him. And also I could talk to him on the phone. I talked to the kids, too, but they give phone calls about 10 percent of their attention.

I hit a thrifting wall on Day Seven, in New Orleans. (That might explain why I wasn’t crazy about the city, although I think the general steaminess and seaminess had more to do with it.) Jenna is on something like her 47th day of this. I cannot begin to imagine. The project came about after she was laid off. She wanted to find something productive to do with her unexpected (and rather unwelcome) spare time, so she turned her passion for thrifting and photography into an 18-hour-a-day job that doesn’t actually pay anything. (Seriously. That lady is on from the second she wakes up till the second she hits the pillow, driving thrifting photographing interviewing driving videotaping interviewing editing editing editing and editing.) I am so proud of her for dreaming it up and for making it happen.

Jenna will still have 12 states to visit after this trip. Anyone with a private jet, a billion airline miles and/or a guest room in Alaska or Hawaii?

So, Thursday ended in a rather different place than we’d expected.

We got up in Biloxi to yet more rain and some impressive thunder and lightning. It tapered off for awhile as we headed toward Louisiana. And then it poured. Jenna did an admirable job navigating it, even as other cars were pulling off the road to wait for the deluge to pass.

We successfully made it through the storm and rolled into Slidell, Louisiana, where we stopped at Janet’s Korner Thrift Store. It’s a cozy little spot stuffed to the gills with clothes and some household goods, and its proceeds help to fund the Community Christian Concern. The organization also has a food bank, and they do everything in their power to aid people in their community who need assistance.

After Slidell we headed on to New Orleans, where we were scheduled to stay at a KOA. We took the bridge over the impressively ginormous Lake Pontchatrain. The train tracks ran parallel to our bridge for awhile, and it was unnerving to think about how much water and little land those riding the rails would see on that leg of their trip. Particularly when I considered that just a few days later, I would be one of those people.

It was apparent as soon as we got into New Orleans that it had been raining there. A lot. Many of the side streets in the campground’s neighborhood were closed, impassable due to flooding. The campground itself was open, but half of the sites were knee-deep in water already. It was then that I developed a new Life Rule: Do not mess with a giant, 30-amp electrical plug in a flooded campground. I had already made a reservation at a hotel for Friday night — because it was much closer to the train station than the campground, and I thought it might be nice for Jenna to sleep in a real bed — so I called to see if they had availability for Thursday night, too. They did, so we drove over, checked in and nearly fell asleep the minute we walked into the room.

It was only 5 o’clock, though, so instead of napping Jenna worked for awhile and then we went to dinner.

It’s no secret that New Orleans has a ton of restaurants, and Jenna’s Facebook wall is proof that most everyone who’s been there has a recommendation for you. We are rebels, though. Rebels who were tired and wanted neither to climb back into HaRVey nor rent a cab. So we looked for something within walking distance.

I was delighted to find a John Besh restaurant about 3 blocks away. I first saw Besh on one of Food Network’s cooking competition shows — I think it was “The Next Iron Chef” — and I remember thinking that I’d happily eat most any dish he presented. I quickly checked out the reviews of “The American Sector to get an idea of the prices. Once we confirmed that they were “moderate,” we headed over. The restaurant is part of the National World War II museum, and the concept is “a sassy new spin on the most popular staples of American cuisine.” I had a knock-your-socks-off sloppy joe made with short ribs. Because who doesn’t go to New Orleans to eat sloppy joes? OK, maybe I’m the only one. But I shouldn’t be. I’ll definitely go to The American Sector again if I have the chance.

Jenna got a few thrift shop recommendations from our waiter, and then we headed back to the hotel. I was excited to learn (via Casey on Twitter) that it was the first night of the new episode of “Project Runway.” I love that silly show, and I won’t be able to watch this season because we had our satellite service suspended for the summer. But I was staying at a hotel! And they have televisions at hotels! Serendipity-doo-dah! I turned on the TV, tried to flip to what the hotel’s TV listings told me was the right channel, and found that the hotel’s TV listings lied to me. They did not, in fact, have that channel any longer. So I read a book instead.

Lessons learned on Day Six

Tiny thrift stores give me the claustrophobias.

John Besh knows his way around a sloppy joe.

Note: Internet issues demanded that I post two days after-the-fact when I started the All Thrifty States trip, so I kept to that schedule throughout. But I am home now, with any luck cuddling with my small people.

Judging by the state of its thrift store racks, the ladies of Pascagoula, Mississippi, are a snazzy group. There were more sequins per square foot in the Goodwill store there than you’re likely to see anywhere else other than Vanna White’s closet. Judging by the diversity of sizes, I don’t think they all came from one party-happy patron, either. It was impressive. The sheer amount of shiny and glitz nearly overpowered my steely, puritanical nature. I knew it was time to leave when I started seriously considering one particularly colorful sequined shawl.

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After Pascagoula we hit the Goodwill in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, which seemed to be brand new. They had neat little niches built into the store where they’d set up vignettes and sections, like a little art gallery and a media room. Their T-shirts were even grouped by color. It made for a pretty store, but it almost felt a little too sterile. Thrift stores are supposed to be at least a little chaotic.

As we’ve drifted further south, I’ve noticed that another animal has usurped the monkeys’ reign as Chief Beast. In their place? Chickens. They’re everywhere. I’ve seen at least two Beyonces (warning: foul language. also fowl language) and countless other poultry large and small. I have yet to be quick enough to snap pictures of those on the roadways, but I’m now making a special effort to photograph the ones in the stores.

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I’d never been to Mississippi before last week — although I’ve known how to spell it since my step-mother’s sister Pat taught me when I was 9 or so (em eye crooked letter, crooked letter eye; crooked letter, crooked letter eye; humpback, humpback eye). I’m pretty sure it’s my 29th state. We stopped at Biloxi’s Hurricane Katrina memorial on the way into town, and it was making me rather emotional right up until a guy on a bicycle rode over to try to get us to fork over some change.

We stayed the night in a rather sketchy-looking campground in the middle of Biloxi. You could see the Gulf from the laundry room, though. We spent a good part of the evening there reading Vogue, W and Redbook before coming back to HaRVey with clean clothes and an appetite. Jenna made dinner again, and then we commenced with the blogging.

Lessons learned on Day Five

Pascagoula is synonymous with party. (In my head, anyway.)

Mississippi’s coast is rather pretty.

Note: Internet issues demanded that I post two days after-the-fact when I started the All Thrifty States trip, so I kept to that schedule throughout. But I am home now, with any luck cuddling with my small people. Also: Jenna is still about a week away from the end of her trip, and her funds are quickly dwindling. If you have some spare dollars, please consider sending them her way via the donate button on her web site. Thanks!