Down on the Corner and out in the Street

As I roamed around the French Quarter last weekend, I was captivated by the spirit of the people there. From the vendors in the French Market to the trolley drivers and shopkeepers with their lyrical twist on the southern drawl, I was fascinated by the colorful spirit of the folks who inhabit New Orleans. Polite and animated, they were so much fun to be around that I found myself accidently trying to talk like them. It is an atmosphere not unlike Times Square but with a more laidback feel. There is no hustle and bustle. Just a lot of friendly people celebrating life. Somebody, somewhere is always having a good time in New Orleans. I mean where else can you get your picture made with someone dressed as a voodoo priestess who will also give you directions to Cafe DuMonde? We stopped in a store looking for a cold soda, and I ended up talking to a man dressed in full makeup and costume as a jester. He was eating a ham sandwich and flagged me down to ask if I was in town for the photography convention when he saw my camera. I walked out of there thinking you don't see THAT every day.


Around Jackson Square, in the heart of the French Quarter, are dozens of tarot card readers, musicians and artists plying their trades, especially in front of St. Louis Cathedral (which is a lovely church by the way).





There are painters, selling their work and showing their talent.

There are street performers who stand out and those that blend in.

Everywhere there are people trying to scratch out a living by using whatever talents they have.



We saw the same thing in Mexico.

And it occurred to me how brave these folks are. Granted, some of them, like the fortune tellers, are scammers, and some are just desperate, but most are chasing a dream or at the very least, trying to make the most of the skills they have. It takes a lot of guts to put your work out there for every stranger to see. It's like standing naked in front of the world and asking for a verdict from the court of public opinion. You may get some praise, but you also get criticism, and in the case of the court jester, scorn from those who think you're nuts. It made Hubby a little nervous when he found me talking to that guy, but I found him to be sane and extremely articulate.

How many of us have the nerve to put ourselves on display like that? Those of us who write do it all the time, and I don't know about you, but it makes me very uncomfortable to share some of my writing with people I know. It's easier on the internet I think, to put it out there for people you've never actually met in person. You don't have to look them in the eye or run into them at the grocery store. You can hide behind a blog banner or a pseudonym. People you know will tell you what they think about your work. I want to write a book someday, but if I ever do, I'm going to have to work through the anxiety of having friends and family reading my work.

So, I tip my hat to the folks who stand on the streets of their hometown, sharing their work with us strangers who wander by with time and criticism to spare. Go right on being naked and doing your thing. You never know when that court jester is going to be the next Marcel Marceau. Of course, he could be the next patient at the loony bin, too so you might want to carry some pepper spray just in case.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Where to begin? Do I start with the details about our brief stay in New Orleans and the craziness on Bourbon Street, how I slid six feet across the deck of the cruise ship on my left butt cheek or the story about how Hubby and I got kicked off the jet skis in Cozumel? So much fun, and so little time to write it all down. Also, that big purple bruise on my fanny? Too personal to show you a picture of it, so how about an overall rundown of our trip instead?


First, let me say I love my family. They are more fun than a hurricane at Pat O'Brien's. There were nine cousins and their spouses on this trip, and all eighteen of us had a ball. It was great to spend time with them, and I'm so glad we made the trip. Even if I am still trying to get my body clock back in order. We ate together, partied together and spent a lot of time just getting to know each other better. I can now name the preferred drink of each one of them. And hey, why didn't someone tell me sooner about the lovely combination of peach schnapps and grapefruit juice? I love it when I can say I got a full serving of fruit with each drink. Just like V8 without the nasty carrot aftertaste. I digress.

Hubby and I got to New Orleans the day before our ship sailed because I just don't trust the air carriers to get us anywhere on the designated day anymore, especially when there's a cruise ship departure involved. It seems like there's always an issue with just about every flight now days. Plus, we wanted to spend a little time goofing around New Orleans. We arrived Sunday afternoon. Along with every redneck in the south. It was the night before the BSC football game between LSU and Alabama. Whew, Lawd. Nawlins was crazier than usual. Bourbon Street was a sea of purple and red, and screams of "Go Tigers!" and "Roll Tide!" rang in our ears all night long. Add in the bead throwers, the zydeco bands and the occasional transvestite, and it was just about the most fun place in North America. The people watching could not have been any better. And can I just say I love the people of Louisiana. They are friendly and fun, and they embrace their uniqueness. Good people, they are. And boy, do they love to throw a party.

Because I booked a hotel room after they scheduled the game in New Orleans, we had to settle for a room across the river in Gretna. While we've stayed in swankier places, it was clean and decent and certainly better than driving thirty minutes out of town to better available rooms. Given other options in the future, the Quality Inn would not be my first choice, however. They did provide us with a free shuttle ride to the free ferry which dropped us off at the NOLA riverfront, so we saved a bundle on cab fees. As Johnny Cash says, there's a silver lining behind every cloud. We whooped it up on Bourbon Street, slept that night to the steady drumbeat of Alabama fans drunkenly traipsing up the motel steps and hit the boat the next morning. Actually, Hubby hit the boat. I checked in and then spent a couple of hours roaming around the French Quarter taking pictures. When I got back on the boat, the whole fam damily was there, and we immediately started living it up.

We spent the next five and a half days lying on the Lido deck, lying on beaches, dancing and basically enjoying every amenity the boat had to offer. Especially the food. Oy vey, the food! I must say I got used to having an exotic dessert every night, and my body was wondering where the breakfast buffet was this past Tuesday when I went back to work. To say that my colon was disappointed with Cream of Wheat and flax seed is an understatement. However, it was happy to be home. I'm the only person I know who can go to Mexico, eat six prunes off the buffet every morning and still get constipated.

Hubby and I got kicked off the jet skis at Cozumel after we turned over our jet ski. A couple on another jet ski flagged us down and asked us to get help since they had a mechanical issue with theirs. We said sure, turned toward the beach a little too hard and promptly landed in the ocean. We flipped it back over and were about to get back on it when the jet ski dude came flying up in a boat, made us get off and ordered us to get in the boat for a ride back to the shore. Which is how we got a free ride on the parasail boat. I considered asking him if we could get a parasail ride but I figured he wouldn't find that nearly as funny as we did.

I earned one of those little plastic Carnival Cruise trophies during the Last Man Standing competition on the Lido deck on our last day at sea. We had to do goofy relay races, including that thing where you put your head on the handle of a bat, spin around the bat ten times and run. The boat was rockin' pretty good that day, and when I stood up from spinning around, I immediately took off running instead of getting my bearings first. I'm that competitive, don't cha' know. I mean who doesn't want a plastic ship on a stick to sit on his shelf? As I started to run, I took a spectacular tumble and slid several feet across the deck on my left hip. Honestly, it was one on my prettier falls. Certainly prettier than that spill I took before Christmas. If I were younger I might have been more embarrassed about doing it in front of so many people, but I'm old enough that I just don't care. Also, most of them were two sheets to the wind, anyway. I bounced up, completed the relay, and our team won, thanks to the loud cheering from the section known as my family. My left hip felt a little sore Saturday and by Sunday I had a big purple bruise the size of a grapefruit. But it was worth it because hey, plastic ship on a stick!

Hubby's injury for the trip was banging his head on a rail on that double decker tour bus we climbed on in Progreso. He hit it so hard he saw stars, and it wouldn't have been so bad, but every time we came near power lines on the city tour we had to duck because they hang so low there they'll strangle you if you don't. He was dizzy from throwing his head between his legs so much. It appears though that Corona numbs a headache. Especially when they cost $1 apiece at little roadside stands run by gentlemen named Martin. The other highlight of that little bus ride was right before we got on when some crazy looking guy flashed some drugs at me. I was like, "What the heck?" I want to know why he thought I looked like I might be interested in buying his little white powder. A friend of mine says it's because I'm skinny, and drug users are almost always skinny. Seriously? The whole thing was pretty funny and just one of several humorous moments along the way. It was a great week. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, even the big spill, and I can't wait to see everyone's pictures. We discussed plans to do it again next year, especially as we neared the end of the trip and everyone was facing much colder weather back home. (Note to self, wear socks when flying from a warm climate to a cold one.) We made many memories last week, but more importantly we had a great bonding experience. Oh, and I got a Got Milk T-shirt on the boat that says, "Got Margaritas?". Life doesn't get any better than that.

Setting Sail....Right After I Exfoliate

Hubby and I leave this weekend for a trip to Mexico, and Teen Angel will be staying at home. Let that sink in for a moment. Our teenager. At home. Alone. For a whole week. I feel comfortable putting this on the blog because very few local people read this blog and every one of them who does is already on a list of people who are supposed to take turns circling our home at regular intervals to make sure there are no parties going on and that she is at home at an appropriate hour. Okay, not really, but we're telling Hubby there is such a schedule so he won't worry so much. He's a basket case about leaving her, his dad and an ailing dog all in the hands of other people. He likes to worry. It's his thing. Not mine, so I'm packing and counting down the days until we sail. And that would be four, thank you.


We are taking a cruise with several of my cousins and their spouses. It's an attempt to keep the closeness our parents have felt over the years, given that their generation is dying off and it's soon going to be up to us to keep our family tight. We talked about that responsibility back in the summer and decided the best way to start was to sail on a cruise ship to a warm climate in the middle of winter and drink lots of margaritas. There might also be some limbo and dancing involved. Look out, Mexico! The first time I was there I almost won the limbo contest. Good thing I didn't. The prize was a bottle of tequila, and let's just say I'd had all of that I needed. Hence the second place finish. Why does alcohol make you more limber? Tell me that, Bill Nye the Science Guy.

Anyway, I didn't let myself get too excited about it until this week 'cause around here you never know what kind of mayhem is going to upset travel plans, but it seems maybe we're getting close enough that I can actually believe we will be sailing the Gulf in a few days. Well, there was that brief moment of excitement about two months ago when I scored cheap plane tickets for us. Other than that, I've just been holding my breath that Papa T. would stay healthy and wouldn't end up in the hospital this week. We haven't taken him out to eat this week because all we need is to drag home a good case of the flu. He seems to catch every bug that crawls by. We've been bathing in the hand sanitizer, too. More than usual. I also danced around some squirrel bones, recited a voodoo chant and said sixteen Hail Mary's. No flu. No flu. No flu. If you say it over and over again fast enough it sounds Cajun, doesn't it?

We are spending Sunday night in New Orleans, which should be interesting. It's the night before the BCA Championship Game, so Bourbon Street should be at a fever pitch of rowdiness. As daddy says, it could be a good place to get your arse whooped. We'll try to blend into the crowd, enjoy the festivities and stuff ourselves full of beignets without stepping on any toes. New Orleans is a cool place, and it's been a long time since we've been there. Who dat!

To say I haven't done any worrying this week would be a tad inaccurate. I walked by a full length mirror yesterday in shorts and a sleeveless shirt on my way to the treadmill when I realized just how white my body is. It's so white you could print phone numbers on it. And there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm just hoping there are so many Michigan and Canadian snowbirds on that boat that no one notices the shade of my legs. Also, I just realized two nights ago how dry my skin is. Normally, I wouldn't worry about it until early April, but I am in lotion overdrive right now. I should buy stock in Gold Bond because I'm certainly upping their sales. And I probably should have had my roots touched up. There is a fair amount of gray around my temples, but I won't have time to get to the barber, so I'm just gonna hope it's not noticeable in the bright glare of the sunshine. Plus, there's always a hat.

I'm hoping for a good trip. We've cruised before, and while an all inclusive kind of trip is my favorite way to see that part of the world, we enjoy cruises, and I think it should be a real hoot to goof around with the family. And truth be told, Teen Angel is probably counting the days until we leave because she's looking forward to her freedom and opportunity to goof off around here. Won't she be surprised when she finds out about that armed security guard and the chastity belt Hubby arranged for her.