A Slow Sunday

The Saints won big! I got caught in the house chores and football vortex, watching way too much TV, choosing not to watch at a bar. The laundry did get done and dinner got cooked, but it seemed like way too much hanging around. I did write some notes for Buck reference POWLAT for what good that will do. I’m thinking the lawyers have the ball on that one now, and past experience does not leave me optimistic. One computer project down. Tomorrow I plan the road trip in some detail. 

The Ballads, Blues and BBQ Road trip is coming together. It looks like about 2400 miles through a part of the country I have not spent much time in at all. I’ll head from New Orleans to Shreveport, visiting Larry and Judy overnight, and then through Arkansas to Eureka Springs. I already have more recommendations for BBQ than I can possibly visit.  I’ll stay in one of the turn of the century resort hotels, and then head for Columbia for the Thanksgiving weekend. From there, I head to Memphis and a downtown hotel near Beal Street so I can check out a musical Mecca. Nashville is next, and I’m guessing I can find a songwriter or two singing somewhere. Then it is a few days in Fairfield Glade, Tennessee, with Dad and Ellen, before heading south to Tuscaloosa. The next day will be Biloxi and the Gulf Coast, and then back to NOLA. Perhaps not the most relaxing itinerary, but it should be fun with lots of family time and sightseeing.

I met a neighbor, Matt, who lives in a beautiful house at Dauphine and Kerelec. He quizzed me on what I was doing in the neighborhood, and expressed a pretty strong opinion about Airbnbs in the neighborhood. He cryptically said our building “has been a problem.” He didn’t elaborate, but I’m guessing he was talking about the illegal Airbnbs. He is very much in the “there are rules” camp, and told several stories about irresponsible investors who ruin the neighborhood. He apparently was trying to establish himself as one of the non-gay neighbors, not sure exactly why, by telling stories about past neighbors who were beautiful women with big breasts who sat on the stoops wearing no underwear. And didn’t even care! All in all, an odd conversation, but characters make this place. 

After spending most of the afternoon trip planning, I was pulling stuff out for dinner when Susie texted and said she had made chicken and dumplings at Johnnie White’s. Bourbon Street was deserted in the cool rain, but the bands were still pumping cover rock-n-roll loudly, and the barkers were still out in the rain. It was fun to participate in the neighborhood bar tradition of free food on Mondays after everyone has spent all their money over the weekend. It wasn’t red beans this time, but another slow cooked southern specialty. It sure hit the spot on a cool day

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