Ahh. The kitties have forgiven me and I am at peace.
Our vacation was very vacation like with lots of eatting and drinking but not so much with the tourist stuff. It was my boy's third trip there so he's taken the tours and such. And with Mardi Gras over, the city was pretty much empty. New Orleans has a smell to it that's unmistakable, I'm not talking about the puke and donkey shit in the French Quarter, I'm taking about the thick air and the black dirt and the trees with branches that are so big the touch the ground and go back up. As soon as I step out of the car it all hits me, the summers of my childhood right there in the air...sitting on my grandmother's kitchen floor with my cousins peeling shrimp for diner, walking to the park for snowballs, Zapp's potato chips, Barq's rootbeer, riding the streetcar, finding mardi gras beads broken and smashed in the street in the middle of summer, broken beer bottles set in cement over courtyard doorways in the quarter as a means of home security, laundrymats with live bands, drive thru liquor, poboys for lunch, hurricanes and hand granades...
Sunday when we got there we spent hours peeling crawfish so my mom could make stew the next day. My guy refused to help, not willing to rip the little bastards in half. His loss.
We spent time in the quarter drinking and drinking some more. Hand Grandades really are New Orleans best drink, they don't hit you right away but god when they do.
There was a trip to the casino and I walked out with a big ol' three dollars more than I walked in with. But my lucky bitch boyfriend won eighty. Which we spent on drinks before the night was out.
My mom knows all the crazy hole in the wall places to eat the kick all the tourist shit in the ass. (Pat O's should not be passed up though, out of town yuppies and frat boys be damned) She brought us to this creepy place for steak. I'm talking mafia shit. To get to the dining area you had to walk through the kitchen and the place had no windows and very little light. There were no menus because all the served was steak, huge, bloody steak. Chole's heaven, really.
It's good to be back here. I haven't called any of my friends yet to tell them I'm back. To be honest, I spent most of the day sleeping.
I can't decide if I should be frightened by how much I missed all of you...
Our vacation was very vacation like with lots of eatting and drinking but not so much with the tourist stuff. It was my boy's third trip there so he's taken the tours and such. And with Mardi Gras over, the city was pretty much empty. New Orleans has a smell to it that's unmistakable, I'm not talking about the puke and donkey shit in the French Quarter, I'm taking about the thick air and the black dirt and the trees with branches that are so big the touch the ground and go back up. As soon as I step out of the car it all hits me, the summers of my childhood right there in the air...sitting on my grandmother's kitchen floor with my cousins peeling shrimp for diner, walking to the park for snowballs, Zapp's potato chips, Barq's rootbeer, riding the streetcar, finding mardi gras beads broken and smashed in the street in the middle of summer, broken beer bottles set in cement over courtyard doorways in the quarter as a means of home security, laundrymats with live bands, drive thru liquor, poboys for lunch, hurricanes and hand granades...
Sunday when we got there we spent hours peeling crawfish so my mom could make stew the next day. My guy refused to help, not willing to rip the little bastards in half. His loss.
We spent time in the quarter drinking and drinking some more. Hand Grandades really are New Orleans best drink, they don't hit you right away but god when they do.
There was a trip to the casino and I walked out with a big ol' three dollars more than I walked in with. But my lucky bitch boyfriend won eighty. Which we spent on drinks before the night was out.
My mom knows all the crazy hole in the wall places to eat the kick all the tourist shit in the ass. (Pat O's should not be passed up though, out of town yuppies and frat boys be damned) She brought us to this creepy place for steak. I'm talking mafia shit. To get to the dining area you had to walk through the kitchen and the place had no windows and very little light. There were no menus because all the served was steak, huge, bloody steak. Chole's heaven, really.
It's good to be back here. I haven't called any of my friends yet to tell them I'm back. To be honest, I spent most of the day sleeping.
I can't decide if I should be frightened by how much I missed all of you...
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
No sleep, candlepin bowling, mucho alcohol, 750 miles of driving = hangovers and a head cold, but it was worth it.
just kidding. i think.....