Showing posts with label New Orleans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Orleans. Show all posts
February 28, 2013
Old NOLA
We went on a road trip to Alabama early in February, and had the opportunity to stop in New Orleans overnight to see a friend. We were able to time our trip with crawfish (and king cake) season, and I've been meaning to post a few pics.
February 20, 2012
February 15, 2012
February 12, 2012
Project Mardi Gras
A few days ago we were invited to a Mardi Gras ball in New Orleans. Tuxes, ball gowns, Maroon Five, oh my.
As a general rule, I avoided Mardi Gras when we lived in New Orleans; I found the crowds overwhelming and the mess to be a less-than-flattering side of the city. However, it is a very sweet honor to be invited as a guest of a Krewe, and we are touched that our friends thought of us. I also recognize that sometimes we just need to get out in the mess and not worry so much about what it all means.
So, in the meantime, while trying to organize an outfit that I like without letting it hijack the finally-calm post-move budget, I have challenged myself to see if I can prepare something that can pass for a gown right here in my little sewing room. I have wavered back and forth on the wisdom of this, but the thought of spending money even at the affordable end of the ball gown spectrum irritates me; I have really, truly been making the effort to avoid disposable, single-usage clothing purchases. I have spent two afternoons shopping and not been thrilled even with the selection at higher price points. I have spent many hours online, and have ordered a dress I like which would have a longer life span, which kind of messes up the budget but would at least be worth it if it looks great on. I would also like to locate some vintage or second-hand options, but there are limited hours and a myriad of other tasks between now and our Friday afternoon departure time.
So for now, while I wait for that Dress B to arrive, I have set myself upon the task of attempting to sew Dress A.
As a general rule, I avoided Mardi Gras when we lived in New Orleans; I found the crowds overwhelming and the mess to be a less-than-flattering side of the city. However, it is a very sweet honor to be invited as a guest of a Krewe, and we are touched that our friends thought of us. I also recognize that sometimes we just need to get out in the mess and not worry so much about what it all means.
So, in the meantime, while trying to organize an outfit that I like without letting it hijack the finally-calm post-move budget, I have challenged myself to see if I can prepare something that can pass for a gown right here in my little sewing room. I have wavered back and forth on the wisdom of this, but the thought of spending money even at the affordable end of the ball gown spectrum irritates me; I have really, truly been making the effort to avoid disposable, single-usage clothing purchases. I have spent two afternoons shopping and not been thrilled even with the selection at higher price points. I have spent many hours online, and have ordered a dress I like which would have a longer life span, which kind of messes up the budget but would at least be worth it if it looks great on. I would also like to locate some vintage or second-hand options, but there are limited hours and a myriad of other tasks between now and our Friday afternoon departure time.
So for now, while I wait for that Dress B to arrive, I have set myself upon the task of attempting to sew Dress A.
January 19, 2012
One Drink Minimum, Y'all (Said the Bouncer at the Spotted Cat)
It's been a long time since I wrote about living in New Orleans. When we were living in Calgary, New Orleans seemed impossibly far away, geographically, financially and logistically. It is well known among my close personals that I did not find living in New Orleans simple or comfortable. It was a volatile affair; periods of lusty joy followed by stretches of anger and rejection.
September 28, 2011
Home
During a recent phone conversation with my sister, when I mentioned my hope that hopefully my husband and I will have some part of our lives rooted at 'home' within the next few years, my sister interrupted me, asking me where I think 'home' is. "You've moved so many times, I just can't imagine where you feel like home is." I was startled by the question; it's clear to me that I consider Minnesota home. It made me wonder if what is in my head is not accurately conveyed to the outside world.
I wondered how she would define home, and it got me thinking about my own definition. I felt a list forming in my head of specific descriptors and conditions, none of which are necessarily: "Home is where you live right now."
I wondered how she would define home, and it got me thinking about my own definition. I felt a list forming in my head of specific descriptors and conditions, none of which are necessarily: "Home is where you live right now."
September 22, 2011
Vintage Video: Mr. Okra and More
Unfortunately, I am not skilled at taking video. However, these clips still give the basic idea of what normal days in New Orleans look and sound like. I found them recently while cleaning out old electronic files on my computer.
Here is Mr. Okra driving around the neighborhood in April 2008, selling produce from the back of his truck. Sorry that I forgot that you can't turn the camera that way while filming.
September 05, 2011
July 09, 2011
Bloom Where You’re Planted
Note: This entry was written originally in January, 2009.
I went to Minnesota for a condensed weekend visit earlier this fall. I was a reluctant participant at work the day after my return, full of homesick yearnings for the gloriously efficient and chilly North Country. “Bloom where you’re planted,” said the owner of the motorcycle shop, so cheerfully that I wanted to crush her. People that are from New Orleans never leave, adding further insult to injury. How could she understand the madness of this place, having never left? She had no comprehension of my pain! I knew she would die before she would live somewhere else. Outrage. I pouted all day, depressed by the heat and dysfunction, and I think she was genuinely confused.
I went to Minnesota for a condensed weekend visit earlier this fall. I was a reluctant participant at work the day after my return, full of homesick yearnings for the gloriously efficient and chilly North Country. “Bloom where you’re planted,” said the owner of the motorcycle shop, so cheerfully that I wanted to crush her. People that are from New Orleans never leave, adding further insult to injury. How could she understand the madness of this place, having never left? She had no comprehension of my pain! I knew she would die before she would live somewhere else. Outrage. I pouted all day, depressed by the heat and dysfunction, and I think she was genuinely confused.
Live Smaller
Note: This entry was written originally in 2008.
I have a new ride. She is black and has two wheels, and she is named Louise. Louise is sleek and Italian and lovely, and my husband and I bought her one recent afternoon in the French Quarter. The quality of my commute has improved, as her wheels handle the considerable potholes of the old streets of New Orleans without leaving me rattled. She has lights and a dainty black basket.
Working at the motorcycle store has been every bit the adventure that I anticipated. The woman that owns it has done a remarkable job building her business, and the men in her life (her husband and two sons) are all thoroughly engaged in running it. Conflicts arise, as they naturally would in any business setting. Since the conflicts affect family members instead of mere colleagues, they take on a slightly more heated tone than do the average water-cooler situations. But the they also laugh with each other, help each other, and enjoy each other. They work really, really hard.
I have a new ride. She is black and has two wheels, and she is named Louise. Louise is sleek and Italian and lovely, and my husband and I bought her one recent afternoon in the French Quarter. The quality of my commute has improved, as her wheels handle the considerable potholes of the old streets of New Orleans without leaving me rattled. She has lights and a dainty black basket.
Working at the motorcycle store has been every bit the adventure that I anticipated. The woman that owns it has done a remarkable job building her business, and the men in her life (her husband and two sons) are all thoroughly engaged in running it. Conflicts arise, as they naturally would in any business setting. Since the conflicts affect family members instead of mere colleagues, they take on a slightly more heated tone than do the average water-cooler situations. But the they also laugh with each other, help each other, and enjoy each other. They work really, really hard.
Ghost
[This entry was written originally in 2008.]
I am paralyzed by Hurricane Gustav. Just like Gustav over Haiti, I have stalled. I don’t normally spook easily but I can’t deny that I feel skittish and frustrated. News articles about evacuation recommend clearing the fridge in order to avoid sticky, rotting messes later. One piece of advice from a reader on the local news website reads: “Pack as though you are never coming back.” Another person posts a piece of advice recommending taking all family vehicles instead of just one. I’m confused and unsure how to proceed, so instead I compulsively check my email and look for new tracks on the storm prediction map. It is too far away to begin packing but it is coming up too quickly for me to put it out of my mind. As a result, I am wandering around the apartment in circles, working on tasks much less pressing than packing insurance paperwork and memorabilia.
I am paralyzed by Hurricane Gustav. Just like Gustav over Haiti, I have stalled. I don’t normally spook easily but I can’t deny that I feel skittish and frustrated. News articles about evacuation recommend clearing the fridge in order to avoid sticky, rotting messes later. One piece of advice from a reader on the local news website reads: “Pack as though you are never coming back.” Another person posts a piece of advice recommending taking all family vehicles instead of just one. I’m confused and unsure how to proceed, so instead I compulsively check my email and look for new tracks on the storm prediction map. It is too far away to begin packing but it is coming up too quickly for me to put it out of my mind. As a result, I am wandering around the apartment in circles, working on tasks much less pressing than packing insurance paperwork and memorabilia.
A Revolution
Note: This entry was written originally in 2008.
This is the most difficult Houma Report I have ever written, because this is the one in which I tell my parents that I resigned from my respectable teaching job, and instead started working full time at a motorcycle dealership. [Holding my breath right now and waiting for the screaming sounds]
Hear me out, that’s all I ask.
I was going to write about the alligators on the swamp tour, or the adventure of participating in a deep South wedding, or the utter ridiculousness of the New Orleans DMV experience during my recent effort to get a Louisiana driver’s license, but then life interfered and brought me an unexpected treat, so now I am writing about that.
This is the most difficult Houma Report I have ever written, because this is the one in which I tell my parents that I resigned from my respectable teaching job, and instead started working full time at a motorcycle dealership. [Holding my breath right now and waiting for the screaming sounds]
Hear me out, that’s all I ask.
I was going to write about the alligators on the swamp tour, or the adventure of participating in a deep South wedding, or the utter ridiculousness of the New Orleans DMV experience during my recent effort to get a Louisiana driver’s license, but then life interfered and brought me an unexpected treat, so now I am writing about that.
Easy Come, Easy Go
Note: This entry was written originally in 2008.
Forget much of what was written in volume 9…remember that I got engaged and married, but forget the part about moving back to Minnesota. We did move back to Minnesota, but if you blinked, you may have missed it. Part of me is tempted to pretend like it never happened, because we feel a touch sheepish for the outrageous plan changing…moving to New Orleans after going home to St. Paul is a rapid reversal, even for us.
On the other hand, I think we just have to own up to the whole thing, because it may have been bigger than us. We tried to move back to Minnesota. We rented a U-haul; I got some jobs. We settled back into the condo. My husband participated in a monthly cross-country commute for nine months. But in the dead of winter, with no promising job prospects for him in Minnesota, we began to view his current job with a new appreciation. Minnesota is important to us, and always will be, but we could not find a job there to compete with his current one. He is paid well to do something that challenging and engaging. Not to mention that it may take us out of the country for a while, which we ultimately decided was worth further short-term reshuffling. Finally, living at opposite sides of the country was not proving a fruitful way to cement our newly official partnership.
Forget much of what was written in volume 9…remember that I got engaged and married, but forget the part about moving back to Minnesota. We did move back to Minnesota, but if you blinked, you may have missed it. Part of me is tempted to pretend like it never happened, because we feel a touch sheepish for the outrageous plan changing…moving to New Orleans after going home to St. Paul is a rapid reversal, even for us.
On the other hand, I think we just have to own up to the whole thing, because it may have been bigger than us. We tried to move back to Minnesota. We rented a U-haul; I got some jobs. We settled back into the condo. My husband participated in a monthly cross-country commute for nine months. But in the dead of winter, with no promising job prospects for him in Minnesota, we began to view his current job with a new appreciation. Minnesota is important to us, and always will be, but we could not find a job there to compete with his current one. He is paid well to do something that challenging and engaging. Not to mention that it may take us out of the country for a while, which we ultimately decided was worth further short-term reshuffling. Finally, living at opposite sides of the country was not proving a fruitful way to cement our newly official partnership.
An Eight on the FDLS
Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
October was a busy month, full of work issues and continued settling in. All of the sudden it is November and we are surprised by this because the weather is still largely in the 70s. I was also surprised last week to find out that my boyfriend and I were invited to a banquet in New Orleans Friday night, to celebrate his five-year anniversary with his company. We would be able to expense the travel costs and stay overnight in a hotel room on the company tab. This was too much excitement for me…an all-expenses paid trip into the city AND I would get to dress up?!?!?! Fabulous.
October was a busy month, full of work issues and continued settling in. All of the sudden it is November and we are surprised by this because the weather is still largely in the 70s. I was also surprised last week to find out that my boyfriend and I were invited to a banquet in New Orleans Friday night, to celebrate his five-year anniversary with his company. We would be able to expense the travel costs and stay overnight in a hotel room on the company tab. This was too much excitement for me…an all-expenses paid trip into the city AND I would get to dress up?!?!?! Fabulous.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)