Two weeks and counting.

Two weeks until me and The Mister get to fight the crowded airports, go through all the security and take off.  Off for five day and four nights of pure, unadulterated fun in beautiful New Orleans.  That's right, after being married for a year and a half, we are going on our honeymoon.  Sure, you could say that having a wedding in Vegas is, in itself, a honeymoon.  But I say "No, no it isn't".  A honeymoon doesn't usually include twenty-four of your closest friends and family or being put in a hotel room right next to your new husbands parents.  A honeymoon doesn't mean I spend all my time with my friends and he with his.  No, a honeymoon is when you take off and go somewhere you've never been and see it together, alone, as a newlywed couple.  Okay, so I used to live in Louisiana, that doesn't really count.  First of all, I haven't lived there in twenty eight years, I haven't been back since I was fourteen, aaand technically I never lived in New Orleans, although I do think I may have gone to Mardi Gras, but I was like eight, and I say it doesn't count.

Gettin' my Carnival scarf finished y'all.

I have been trying for years to get The Mister to go down to NOLA for a Mardi Gras vacation, but he's never seemed that interested.  That was until a little show called "Treme" started up on HBO.  Thank you HBO.  After watching what the culture is like down there, the scenery, and oh my goodness, the music.  The sounds of jazz bands and street performers filling the busy air.  Right when the first season of that show ended, I said, "Aww, you wanna go to New Orleans now, huh?".  I expected him to say no, but he didn't.  He simply said "Yeah, when's Mardi Gras?"  Tickets were booked by the end of the next week.  I don't know what it was about watching that show, but I haven't seen him this excited, since they told us we were having a boy, that was about fifteen and a half years ago.  I can't wait to get down there and feel the thick humid air that makes you feel damp from the time you wake up, until the time you go to bed.  If I concentrate real hard I can faintly remember smell of a southern restaurant, or hear the bugs hissing you to sleep at night. Woo, I think I just had a flashback.  Oh my, I can't wait for The Mister to finally get to see the cockroaches I've been telling him about.  They're the size of a small bird.  Okay, maybe not that big, but I remember them as a kid and they were that big to me.

This is the Monteleone.  So many famous writers have stayed here.  It's said to be haunted.  This makes me soooo excited.  Oh and Elvis stayed here, maybe he'll make an appearance. 

I haven't even told you about the best part of all.

When you ask people who've been there, what their favorite thing was.  I guaaarooontee they will tell you, it's the food, and if they don't, well then they were probably eating McD's or Burger King the whole time, because that's one of the only things I remember really well about that place.  Crawfish, gumbo, red beans and rice, jumbalaya and beignets, I'm drooling over here.

Another super duper fabulouso fact about our upcoming trip.  I get to see one of my dearest childhood friends.  I haven't seen her since I was about ten.  Leaving her was the hardest thing about leaving Louisiana, aside from leaving the food, the swamps and all of my jungle adventures.  That day will be a absolute joy and blessing and I'll probably turn into a little kid and bawl my eyes out.

Me, Ronda and my lil' sis Nessa. This was just a few months before the big move.

Okay, I have to get out of fantasy land and get to the real world where I have to do laundry and pack The Mister up for his weekend of snow-mobiling  and male bonding.  Snowmobile by day, pounding their chests and grunting, while drinking beer by night. Ugh Ugh Ugh.

Enjoy your day!
Marisa