Bye, Nola

Damn I love New Orleans. I don’t know if I could live there, though. A diet of fried crawfish and Abita beer is fine for a weekend, but I do believe it would begin to affect me and not in a good way.

What hapenned Sunday? I walked all over the Garden District and was inspired to do more with my porch. (First I have to get the garbage off of it.) I had lunch at Juan’s Flying Burrito, which in my opinion is better than the Flying Burrito in Chapel Hill (no relation). Shrimp burrito with avocado and cilantro = heaven. And I don’t even like shrmp.

Sunday night I dragged my ass out to Donna’s and then wondered why I didn’t come straight there in the first place. That place is like a physical embodiment of the love that’s naturally built into any music with soul. It is so friendly, diverse, laid-back/get-up-and-dance, and funky. Charlie’s red beans and rice and a Turbodog made the evening perfect. Except I was very tired (and had to work Monday) so I left around 12:30 am, before the end of the Shannon Powell Quartet’s set.

Monday I spent with a colleague who I would probably be close friends with if she lived near me. We went to the BlueBird Cafe for breakfast, and I got to have Powerhouse eggs – another of my NoLa favorites. I was so happy to be there that I tried to ignore the big hunk of bacon I found in my eggs. For lunch we went to Deanie’s by the lake and I had fried crawfish and crawfish etouffee. After the training, she rolled me back to my hotel, where they were filming a movie and I watched a skinny actress jump out on to a balcony and run across another balcony in front of the camera. Woo!