29 August 2011

Baby, it's Hot Outside

I should have been born into one of those cultures that keep their women all wrapped up from head to toe.

Seriously. I love my long sleeve t's, my jeans, my fleece pants, my hoodies and sweaters. And let's not forget my fuzzy boots. Oh, the fuzzy, fuzzy boots.

So it keeps scaring me a little every time I hear someone down here say something along the lines of "Our seasons? Well, we have a really hot summer, then we go into a regular summer for a couple weeks, then it turns back into the really hot summer again."

And if by chance there is even a hint of a chance of snow flurries, schools are cancelled for weeks.

Not really.

Just days.

I'll miss you, fuzzy boots and hoodies.

Maybe I can convince M to retire to Alaska.

09 August 2011

Road Trip Weekend #1

Drive south 90 miles. Then you're in the land of debauchery and weird people and beautiful architecture and puffy little sugary pillows that I had been deprived of for 30 years.

New Orleans.

Yes, it's true. I've never been there. Unless you count the time my church youth group stopped on the way home from a mission trip in Texas just to get Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts while my youth pastor told of the evils of Bourbon Street.

Walking around the French Quarter on a 99 degree Saturday afternoon is quite a different experience. The place was packed. I'm the kind of person who likes to stop and look in store windows, take in the scenery and just take my time looking around. I quickly found out that that is next to impossible in the Big Easy. If you stop to look, you get trampled from the masses of people behind you on the sidewalk. Being short in a large, moving crowd isn't the best.

I lovelovelove the buildings. The balconies. The history.

But then we found it. The oasis in the middle of all of the hot, sticky, stinky inebriated bodies. It's green awning waving hello in the breeze. Powdered sugar dust coating the sidewalk in all four directions.

That's right. Cafe du Monde. Home of ridiculously thick black coffee and fried dough covered in powdered sugar.


Totally worth whatever time I will have to spend on the elliptical to minimize the damage.

I did the entire experience. The tiny little table crammed next to other tiny tables that can barely seat one person. The coffee that I could barely drink because, as my sister told me, it will put hair on my chest by morning, and the beignets. Oh, the beignets. Sigh.

Yes. I'm a naive little Midwestern girl, transplanted in the Deep South, enjoying every minute of it and not worrying if I look like a complete idiot tourist.

I need to quickly remind myself to say "ya'll" though. Every time I say "you guys" I get someone who asks me what part of the Yankee North I'm from. Fabulous.

Today I love: Fresh cut pineapple and Chocolate Truffle coffee.