I'm leaving for the airport in a couple of hours to board a flight to Philadelphia to see my dad and can't sleep, so I wanted to take the time to clarify some things about my last post.....
Although I am very frustrated that my father has squandered the second chances given to him in life, I am not judging him. I'm in no place to do so. As human beings we all make bad choices in our lives, some worse than others. And while I find it hard to sympathize with the choices that brought him to this situation, I am still compassionate about the suffering he is enduring. No one deserves to go through cancer and it is a mystery why some do and others don't. My frustration with his obstinance doesn't mean I don't love my father. I guess overall I'm just sad for him. Sad that he didn't try to turn his health around and live life to the fullest. Life is such a gift and I think it is just a shame to not cherish it. But that was his choice, and we are all entitled to that.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The Truth And Choices
I just found out a couple of days ago that my dad has cancer again, in the form of a tumor growing on his spine that is destroying the vertebrae it is surrounding. Surgery to "de-bulk" the tumor (complete removal is not possible) and repair his spine was scheduled immediately. Everything went well and he is now recovering. He will also have to endure physical rehabilitation followed by chemotherapy and radiation treatments.
I had originally jotted down a very generic paragraph about all of this and then moved on to more upbeat topics in order to avoid hurt feelings or criticism about my feelings on this subject. But then I thought about this.....a person who writes should write what they know and be truthful. So here is the truth. I find it very hard to be sympathetic toward my father's current plight. I love him and I don't ever want to see him suffer but he has been a smoker and drinker all of his life, to his own detriment. Now, before you assume that I am going to get on my soap box and judge all smokers, I am not. I have smoked cigarettes in my life. This is about choices. My father chose, after multiple heart attacks and having 2/3 OF HIS TONGUE CUT OUT AND RESTRUCTURED because of oral cancer, to continue smoking cigarettes and drinking for 10 years. Resulting in the present situation. People will say, 'It's so hard to quit, it's an addiction'. Bullshit. People quit every day. Again, it's about choices. I don't know about you, but if I had my tongue cut out I'd like to think that I would stop doing what caused that. But that's just me. Maybe I don't fully comprehend addiction. But one thing I do know about it is that the very essence of it is selfishness. To keep doing something no matter how it hurts or affects those around you is just plain selfish. I am most sorry for my mom in this situation. She has stuck by my dad for 41 years of marriage, through thick and thin, I might add, and she doesn't deserve to have to keep going through this shit because my dad wants/likes/needs to smoke cigarettes and drink. He's just doing what he's always known but it doesn't make it right. I was conflicted about my feelings and wondering whether I was a bad person because I didn't hop on a plane, but this is my truth. It is also the truth that I'm hoping for the best possible outcome of the moment and that he will finally say good-bye to cigarettes forever.
I had originally jotted down a very generic paragraph about all of this and then moved on to more upbeat topics in order to avoid hurt feelings or criticism about my feelings on this subject. But then I thought about this.....a person who writes should write what they know and be truthful. So here is the truth. I find it very hard to be sympathetic toward my father's current plight. I love him and I don't ever want to see him suffer but he has been a smoker and drinker all of his life, to his own detriment. Now, before you assume that I am going to get on my soap box and judge all smokers, I am not. I have smoked cigarettes in my life. This is about choices. My father chose, after multiple heart attacks and having 2/3 OF HIS TONGUE CUT OUT AND RESTRUCTURED because of oral cancer, to continue smoking cigarettes and drinking for 10 years. Resulting in the present situation. People will say, 'It's so hard to quit, it's an addiction'. Bullshit. People quit every day. Again, it's about choices. I don't know about you, but if I had my tongue cut out I'd like to think that I would stop doing what caused that. But that's just me. Maybe I don't fully comprehend addiction. But one thing I do know about it is that the very essence of it is selfishness. To keep doing something no matter how it hurts or affects those around you is just plain selfish. I am most sorry for my mom in this situation. She has stuck by my dad for 41 years of marriage, through thick and thin, I might add, and she doesn't deserve to have to keep going through this shit because my dad wants/likes/needs to smoke cigarettes and drink. He's just doing what he's always known but it doesn't make it right. I was conflicted about my feelings and wondering whether I was a bad person because I didn't hop on a plane, but this is my truth. It is also the truth that I'm hoping for the best possible outcome of the moment and that he will finally say good-bye to cigarettes forever.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Making Things Happen
My past month has been plagued with computer and low back problems. The computer problem I solved by getting a new laptop (NOT A DELL!) and I wish the back problem was as easily solvable. But alas, it is not. I cannot order a new hip and sacrum (well, I guess I could but having no health insurance poses a problem). Doing massage full time for the last seven years has taken a toll on my body and my back injury seems to be structural, not muscular as I had hoped. Not sure what I am going to do at this point but I do know that massage cannot be my main source of income for the rest of my working life. I like my job but I can't enjoy it when it causes me pain every day. I had written previously that I was feeling restless in regard to my career so maybe this is my sign to do something about it. As of right now, I plan on sticking with my job while finally finishing up the first part of my aromatherapy course, getting out more to network and establish potential job contacts, and taking some time off in August to rest my body,weigh my options and do some writing. With that being said, things could always be worse. I'm going to work on keeping my dance card as full as possible........if my back is handing me lemons, I have to get busy making things happen and make that lemonade.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Wishing For More
I spent yesterday getting back into the swing of regular life after a two week visit with my mother. Not recuperating, so to speak, but adjusting to her being gone and not having an extra person in the house. Two weeks may seem like a long visit with your mom but, I have to say, it went by quickly and relatively smoothly. We didn't go out at night as often as I would have liked but we ate well and got to spend time together. And lately I've been dwelling on how short life is and wondering just how much time we have left together. The answer is, I'm sure, 'not enough'. No matter how much I enjoy the 1100 mile buffer zone that seperates me and my family, the thought of my parents not being there some day weighs on my mind more and more each day. I'm facing our mortality. But there's no going back for me. I'd rather be waterboarded than move back to Bordentown, but I wouldn't mind my parents coming here. In fact, I often encourage my mother to do so, and I believe that she really wants to but finds the task of doing so daunting. I don't know, I guess I firmly believe that life is too short to not do what's in your heart, no matter what that may be......moving to a new city, quitting a crappy job, going back to school, starting your own business, getting out of a bad relationship, writing that novel. You only go around once and sometimes you just gotta take a risk, even if it seems to be less than responsible. Life is more exciting when you lighten up on the responsibility, I tell ya. Anyhoo....here's some high moments of our visit.....
The scrumptious Kobe Beef Cheeseburger Po' Boy @ Hermes Bar
Chorizo&cheese nachos w/ fresh squeezed fruit margaritas (pineapple cilantro = fabulous!)@ El Gato Negro
Port of Call - mushroom burgers and monsoons
Drinks and eye candy @ Napoleon's Itch (On this day, again, reaffirming why I don't like drinking too much.)
The always amazing Adolfo's
An oh-so tender filet mignon @ The Gumbo Shop
Watching the awesome musicians and actors in "Nine Lives" at Le Petit Theatre du Vieux Carre'
The Palm Court for a tasty dinner, strong drinks, & beautiful music provided by Leroy Jones. Loved our waiter, Stanley!!
Tending to the courtyard, talking, laughing, and spending time with friends.
I was sad to see it end. Every day, through the "magic" of facebook, I note the number of my friends who have lost their mother. I feel very lucky to have mine and wish we didn't have all of these miles between us. I cherish the days we get to spend together....just wish there were more of them.
Happy Mother's Day.
The scrumptious Kobe Beef Cheeseburger Po' Boy @ Hermes Bar
Chorizo&cheese nachos w/ fresh squeezed fruit margaritas (pineapple cilantro = fabulous!)@ El Gato Negro
Port of Call - mushroom burgers and monsoons
Drinks and eye candy @ Napoleon's Itch (On this day, again, reaffirming why I don't like drinking too much.)
The always amazing Adolfo's
An oh-so tender filet mignon @ The Gumbo Shop
Watching the awesome musicians and actors in "Nine Lives" at Le Petit Theatre du Vieux Carre'
The Palm Court for a tasty dinner, strong drinks, & beautiful music provided by Leroy Jones. Loved our waiter, Stanley!!
Tending to the courtyard, talking, laughing, and spending time with friends.
I was sad to see it end. Every day, through the "magic" of facebook, I note the number of my friends who have lost their mother. I feel very lucky to have mine and wish we didn't have all of these miles between us. I cherish the days we get to spend together....just wish there were more of them.
Happy Mother's Day.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Searching For My Thing
The remainder of my French Quarter Festival was extremely pleasant. Saw artists I had never seen, got some sun, ate some good food, even had a couple of Pat O'Briens Hurricanes.
Some standouts of the weekend....music-wise: the previously mentioned Lillian Boutte' and Los Hombres Calientes, plus Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue (awesome rockabilly style), Paul Sanchez & the Rolling Road Show (damn! Debbie Davis can sing!), The Brass-a-holics, The Renard Poche' Band (damn! Leslie Smith can sing!), and Los Po-Boy-Citos (just plain fun).....food-wise: (my yearly tradition of) beef brisket topped with a sinus clearing horseradish sauce from Tujague's, beef tenderloin with mac & cheese from Crazy Johnnie's, pulled pork sammich from The Joint, roast beef po' boy from Boucherie, and strawberry shortcake from Begue's .
It's hard to beat spending a leisurely weekend by the river with a friendly, music loving crowd eating, drinking, and watching musicians who love what they do. That crowd is such a BIG part of my Fest. I will always find humans to be fascinating creatures and there is not a better place for people watching than FQF. There are happy people everywhere. The Brass Band Stage is the biggest party. People from all walks of life come together for the funky groove. You will see kids, old people, white, black, women in tight-tight shorts, guys in hawaiian shirts, and always lots of gold teeth. It's all there. Everyone you can think of dancing, sweating, and smiling blissfully. Another happy group I witnessed was during a jam band set that I happened to catch. Not really my kind of music but they were funky enough and in the end they kind of converted me by doing the "old school" song "No Parking on the Dance Floor" by Midnight Star. I couldn't take my eyes off the group of hippie kids squirming, jerking, and flailing to the music. There was a hula hoop, a crystal ball, body glitter, unshaved legs & pits, dreadlocks, and B.O. aplenty! It was like watching a strange hybrid of the Manson Family and Austin Powers - creepy and funny at the same time. But hey, they were having a good time and weren't hurting anyone (other than the B.O.). To me, our differences make life interesting.
I was sad to see it all end and to say it was difficult going back to work is an understatement. I like my job and the people I work with but I've been feeling restless lately. Feeling the need to be creative. Feeling like I haven't quite found my "thing" yet. This is something I want to figure out. I remember when, after much indecision, I settled on accounting as a major in college (just to get it over with). My cousin Sherrie said to me, I can't believe you are majoring in accounting, I thought for sure you'd do something artistic." I didn't have an answer for that at the time but now, looking back, I see what she meant. When I was a kid I was the first one to sing into the hair brush and dance in front of the fireplace at family functions. I also had no problem singing and dancing in the doorway of the bar downstairs from our apartment for the old men who put quarters in the jukebox. My favorite song was "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" by Jim Croce and I usually got a Slim Jim or a brown bottle of Birch Beer after my performance. Payment enough. But as I grew older I became riddled with the insecurities that plague most adolescents. I refused the spotlight in the high school choir....the fear of that large crowd overrode any small confidence I may have had in my abilities. And yet, I still loved the thought of singing in a band. I also always enjoyed English, literature, and writing but doubted that I had any particular talent for it. And besides, what was I going to do with an English degree? Teach? That involved being in the spotlight and wasn't for me. I didn't even consider that there were other possibilities. The fear won out. It's sad when you realize that you let self-doubt prevent you from doing something that you might have loved and enjoyed doing. I settled on accounting because it was "practical" and I will always be disappointed that I let myself do that. It went against my natural way of being. Practical is not me. But as they say, you can't rewrite history. The least I can say is that with age came enough wisdom for me to be comfortable being me. I found a place that I love, and since I'm still alive and kickin' there's always the possibility that I will find my "thing".
Some standouts of the weekend....music-wise: the previously mentioned Lillian Boutte' and Los Hombres Calientes, plus Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue (awesome rockabilly style), Paul Sanchez & the Rolling Road Show (damn! Debbie Davis can sing!), The Brass-a-holics, The Renard Poche' Band (damn! Leslie Smith can sing!), and Los Po-Boy-Citos (just plain fun).....food-wise: (my yearly tradition of) beef brisket topped with a sinus clearing horseradish sauce from Tujague's, beef tenderloin with mac & cheese from Crazy Johnnie's, pulled pork sammich from The Joint, roast beef po' boy from Boucherie, and strawberry shortcake from Begue's .
It's hard to beat spending a leisurely weekend by the river with a friendly, music loving crowd eating, drinking, and watching musicians who love what they do. That crowd is such a BIG part of my Fest. I will always find humans to be fascinating creatures and there is not a better place for people watching than FQF. There are happy people everywhere. The Brass Band Stage is the biggest party. People from all walks of life come together for the funky groove. You will see kids, old people, white, black, women in tight-tight shorts, guys in hawaiian shirts, and always lots of gold teeth. It's all there. Everyone you can think of dancing, sweating, and smiling blissfully. Another happy group I witnessed was during a jam band set that I happened to catch. Not really my kind of music but they were funky enough and in the end they kind of converted me by doing the "old school" song "No Parking on the Dance Floor" by Midnight Star. I couldn't take my eyes off the group of hippie kids squirming, jerking, and flailing to the music. There was a hula hoop, a crystal ball, body glitter, unshaved legs & pits, dreadlocks, and B.O. aplenty! It was like watching a strange hybrid of the Manson Family and Austin Powers - creepy and funny at the same time. But hey, they were having a good time and weren't hurting anyone (other than the B.O.). To me, our differences make life interesting.
I was sad to see it all end and to say it was difficult going back to work is an understatement. I like my job and the people I work with but I've been feeling restless lately. Feeling the need to be creative. Feeling like I haven't quite found my "thing" yet. This is something I want to figure out. I remember when, after much indecision, I settled on accounting as a major in college (just to get it over with). My cousin Sherrie said to me, I can't believe you are majoring in accounting, I thought for sure you'd do something artistic." I didn't have an answer for that at the time but now, looking back, I see what she meant. When I was a kid I was the first one to sing into the hair brush and dance in front of the fireplace at family functions. I also had no problem singing and dancing in the doorway of the bar downstairs from our apartment for the old men who put quarters in the jukebox. My favorite song was "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" by Jim Croce and I usually got a Slim Jim or a brown bottle of Birch Beer after my performance. Payment enough. But as I grew older I became riddled with the insecurities that plague most adolescents. I refused the spotlight in the high school choir....the fear of that large crowd overrode any small confidence I may have had in my abilities. And yet, I still loved the thought of singing in a band. I also always enjoyed English, literature, and writing but doubted that I had any particular talent for it. And besides, what was I going to do with an English degree? Teach? That involved being in the spotlight and wasn't for me. I didn't even consider that there were other possibilities. The fear won out. It's sad when you realize that you let self-doubt prevent you from doing something that you might have loved and enjoyed doing. I settled on accounting because it was "practical" and I will always be disappointed that I let myself do that. It went against my natural way of being. Practical is not me. But as they say, you can't rewrite history. The least I can say is that with age came enough wisdom for me to be comfortable being me. I found a place that I love, and since I'm still alive and kickin' there's always the possibility that I will find my "thing".
Friday, April 8, 2011
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of My Year
French Quarter Festival is here and, I have to say, it couldn't have come at a better time. My past couple of weeks have been trying, starting with a hellacious bout of food poisoning from a "diner", progressing on to a general funk in which I wanted to sleep 18 hours a day, and finishing off with a "misunderstanding" with our landlord that has since been resolved. Oh, and I turned 41. But, enough of that shit, it's festival time! I've mentioned previously that FQF is my favorite event in New Orleans and this is why......the weather in early April is gorgeous; there is an abundance of food, drink, & music and it's ALL LOCAL; the crowd is made up of diverse, music loving people; the price of admission? FREE! And such a grand time that I tolerate going to the can in a Port-o-Potty. (Always carry an extra roll of TP.) This year, for the first time, the festival has added an extra day as a gift to locals who would rather avoid the weekend crowds, which have grown enormously over the years. I am filled with gratitude for this because I truly enjoyed my day yesterday! Actually, my musical weekend kicked off on Wednesday evening when I found out that The Soul Rebels Brass Band and Troy "Trombone Shorty" Andrews were auspiciously scheduled for the, after work, "Wednesday at the Square" show. The square being Lafayette Square on St. Charles Ave. in the CBD. For those acts I was more than willing to venture across Canal St. I hadn't seen The Soul Rebels in many years and they put on a dynamic, fun show. Troy & Co. were fabulous, as usual, and I don't know how much longer he will be able to play The Square. It soon won't be able to contain the crowd he draws. Called it an early night after the show in order to be up bright and early on Thursday. And.........
My Thursday started out with a massage followed by a pedicure. A lunchtime visit to Lester (boyfriend) at the Gazebo Cafe. Home for a half hour nap, gathered belongings, sunscreen application, made my way to the Mississippi. At this time I'd like to point out that the music is not the only entertainment available at a New Orleans festival......there is also the crowd. You will see quite the array of people. All ages, shapes, sizes, and colors in one place feelin' the groove and doin' their thang. The long skirt wearing, barefoot, twirling, hippie girl; the rhythm lacking, dancing white dude; the 75 year old lady on her "Rascal" bobbin' her head; the guy in the extremely tight seersucker pants with the round "dip" canister stuffed in the back pocket, taking photos....the variety is inspiring. As is the music. There is something for everyone. The first set I saw was Lillian Boutte', diminutive with a roaring voice, backed by a fantastic band with lots of familiar faces. Second set was Los Hombres Calientes, the project of Bill Summers and Irvin Mayfield - dynamic! My first time seeing them and I'm so glad I did. I then wandered a bit to pass by the Brass Band Stage and the One Mind Brass Band was sounding hot. I also realized that I didn't have any festival food. But it was time to end my day of fun. Normal routine (my overflowing clothes hamper) called. So, as I made my way slowly home through the French Quarter I decided that I wasn't going to ruin a perfect day by doing laundry AND cooking. Po' boys from (FQ institution) Verti Marte were in order.
And, just think, I get to do it all again today.
My Thursday started out with a massage followed by a pedicure. A lunchtime visit to Lester (boyfriend) at the Gazebo Cafe. Home for a half hour nap, gathered belongings, sunscreen application, made my way to the Mississippi. At this time I'd like to point out that the music is not the only entertainment available at a New Orleans festival......there is also the crowd. You will see quite the array of people. All ages, shapes, sizes, and colors in one place feelin' the groove and doin' their thang. The long skirt wearing, barefoot, twirling, hippie girl; the rhythm lacking, dancing white dude; the 75 year old lady on her "Rascal" bobbin' her head; the guy in the extremely tight seersucker pants with the round "dip" canister stuffed in the back pocket, taking photos....the variety is inspiring. As is the music. There is something for everyone. The first set I saw was Lillian Boutte', diminutive with a roaring voice, backed by a fantastic band with lots of familiar faces. Second set was Los Hombres Calientes, the project of Bill Summers and Irvin Mayfield - dynamic! My first time seeing them and I'm so glad I did. I then wandered a bit to pass by the Brass Band Stage and the One Mind Brass Band was sounding hot. I also realized that I didn't have any festival food. But it was time to end my day of fun. Normal routine (my overflowing clothes hamper) called. So, as I made my way slowly home through the French Quarter I decided that I wasn't going to ruin a perfect day by doing laundry AND cooking. Po' boys from (FQ institution) Verti Marte were in order.
And, just think, I get to do it all again today.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Something's Missing
Pork roll, egg, and cheese. On a round roll (usually buttered). With ketchup. If you're from NJ, you know what I'm talking about. One of the greeziest, high calorie, fat laden breakfast sammiches around. And simply divine. I'm not going to go into what, exactly, pork roll is. Because honestly, I don't know what's in it. And I don't care. I'll just say it's mainly a breakfast meat, it's good, and I can't get it in New Orleans.
I live in a city that is known worldwide for its food and, even though I'm not a seafood eater, you can tell just by looking at me that I don't often miss a meal. But sometimes you just want what you grew up with. There are very few things that I miss about my former home....my parents, occasionally (I'm kidding!), my BFF, the ocean, and certain food items. Pork roll being one, but I'd say that the biggest food void is pizza. For the most part, the pizza in New Orleans is an abomination. Some more edible than others, but not good. To give you an idea of how much I miss NJ pizza: On my last visit I took a picture of a pie with mushrooms that now serves as the desktop background on my laptop. I look at it with longing every day and want to put my face in the cheesy, sloppy, goodness of it. There is one place down here that comes close to the stuff I grew up with and that's Venezia on Carrollton Ave. But I hardly get up that way anymore. Truthfully, Italian food in general is lacking here. A lot of the Italian places are not owned by Italians. The red sauce is usually sweet, they make calzones without ricotta cheese, and I don't think I've ever found a decent chicken marsala besides the one that comes out of my own kitchen. The same goes for meatballs. I can't abide frozen meatballs. Thankfully, a new place opened in the CBD called Red Gravy (and it's not sweet!) where the owner feels the same way. Guess what? She's from NJ. I've become addicted to the meatball parm sammich over there and it saves me from having to make meatballs and sauce every time I crave them.
My list of missed NJ favorites is long - DeLorenzo's pizza, Chicken Valentino @ The Farnsworth House (their ricotta cheesecake too!), Rosario's calzone, a good cheesesteak from anywhere, Pete's Pizza @ Columbus Market, fine Italian dining in the Chambersburg section of Trenton. But I've developed some favorites here too - the stuffed chicken or chicken parm @ Adolfo's, the mushroom cheeseburger @ Port of Call, the panne'd chicken w/ fettuccine alfredo @ Coop's, the brisket w/ horseradish sauce from Tujague's served in the setting of French Quarter Festival. The one difference between the two lists is that there is a nostalgic component to the NJ list. I have some great memories that were created with friends and family while dining. I miss the dinners with a group of my girlfriends, the impromptu cocktails and dinners at The Farnsworth House, Thursday night "steak nights" and cocktails with my BFF Liz at Eddie's. I miss the female connections. I don't really have that in New Orleans. But what I do have is the luxury of taking my meals in an atmosphere that I wouldn't trade for the world. I am surrounded by beauty here, some of it unconventional and decaying, and while it may be lonely at times, I feel incredibly free and fortunate.
Now, if I could only get them to open a DeLorenzo's down here.........
I live in a city that is known worldwide for its food and, even though I'm not a seafood eater, you can tell just by looking at me that I don't often miss a meal. But sometimes you just want what you grew up with. There are very few things that I miss about my former home....my parents, occasionally (I'm kidding!), my BFF, the ocean, and certain food items. Pork roll being one, but I'd say that the biggest food void is pizza. For the most part, the pizza in New Orleans is an abomination. Some more edible than others, but not good. To give you an idea of how much I miss NJ pizza: On my last visit I took a picture of a pie with mushrooms that now serves as the desktop background on my laptop. I look at it with longing every day and want to put my face in the cheesy, sloppy, goodness of it. There is one place down here that comes close to the stuff I grew up with and that's Venezia on Carrollton Ave. But I hardly get up that way anymore. Truthfully, Italian food in general is lacking here. A lot of the Italian places are not owned by Italians. The red sauce is usually sweet, they make calzones without ricotta cheese, and I don't think I've ever found a decent chicken marsala besides the one that comes out of my own kitchen. The same goes for meatballs. I can't abide frozen meatballs. Thankfully, a new place opened in the CBD called Red Gravy (and it's not sweet!) where the owner feels the same way. Guess what? She's from NJ. I've become addicted to the meatball parm sammich over there and it saves me from having to make meatballs and sauce every time I crave them.
My list of missed NJ favorites is long - DeLorenzo's pizza, Chicken Valentino @ The Farnsworth House (their ricotta cheesecake too!), Rosario's calzone, a good cheesesteak from anywhere, Pete's Pizza @ Columbus Market, fine Italian dining in the Chambersburg section of Trenton. But I've developed some favorites here too - the stuffed chicken or chicken parm @ Adolfo's, the mushroom cheeseburger @ Port of Call, the panne'd chicken w/ fettuccine alfredo @ Coop's, the brisket w/ horseradish sauce from Tujague's served in the setting of French Quarter Festival. The one difference between the two lists is that there is a nostalgic component to the NJ list. I have some great memories that were created with friends and family while dining. I miss the dinners with a group of my girlfriends, the impromptu cocktails and dinners at The Farnsworth House, Thursday night "steak nights" and cocktails with my BFF Liz at Eddie's. I miss the female connections. I don't really have that in New Orleans. But what I do have is the luxury of taking my meals in an atmosphere that I wouldn't trade for the world. I am surrounded by beauty here, some of it unconventional and decaying, and while it may be lonely at times, I feel incredibly free and fortunate.
Now, if I could only get them to open a DeLorenzo's down here.........
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