Vaycay

 We made reservations at our favorite French Quarter hotel for the end of September for our 30th anniversary. We had intended to go to Boston but don’t want to risk flight Eff ups nor do I want to be inches from breathers, you know, strangers that breathe. I’m not a fan. Covid fucked that up for me along with blowing out birthday candles. I will never eat a cake after the candles/cake have been sprayed with spit bombs. 

Anyway…. We’re going a month earlier than our actual anniversary to try and avoid a hurricane. Isn’t it awesome living on this side of the country? Always a surprise just around the corner.

We’ll be there for about a week which is the longest we’ve ever stayed. I booked a swamp tour to see alligators and if you have a good memory you know that the last time I was in a swamp I completely lost my grip and ran away with my Ray Bans flying off into the dark waters never to be seen again. This time we won’t be walking, we’ll be in a boat and I’m gonna drink a few shots before heading out. Good plan. We’re gonna tour the Tabasco factory and go to museums, including the pharmacy museum! My husband says they don’t hand out samples so I’ll have to take my own, I guess. Art exhibits! Amazing food!!! Haunted hotel! Beignets!!! 

Whispy drapes blowing into our room, the smell of the city, the sounds of Jazz, the feeling the place gives me deep into my dna. Soft, warm, peace, love, calm. I just want to bathe in the atmosphere of NOLA, come home with my brain, heart and soul recharged. 

Even the planning lightens my deepest places hidden in the dark so I don’t see them. 

I wish I could send that feeling to anyone who is sad. 

Speaking of sad, I put a photo on Instagram. We’d just been in a store and walked passed the baby girl clothes. I sucked it up and only ran my finger down one fluffy pink dress before putting that sharp stabbing pain into its box.

Today my husband saw the picture and walked up to me, not knowing that he had seen it, and kissed my forehead. I asked what that was for and he said your eyes are sad in that photo you took. Maybe it all doesn’t fit into the box sometimes. 

Me.