Halloween--A Few Days Late

Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote a little bloggy blog. It took a while to recover from our weekend in New Orleans! We had a fabulous time (of course!) even though we stayed in the Garden District, which is a tad further from the hustle and bustle than I usually prefer to be. But, with Widespread Panic playing 3 nights, Voodoo Fest, the Saints hosting the Steelers in the Superdome, and Halloween, we were actually lucky to get a room anywhere in The Big Easy.

For a brief recap of our Crescent City goodtimes....

We rode the streetcar for the first time. (And it made me want to yell "Stelllllllaaaaa!" a time or two, I must admit).

We ate Cuchon de Lait at Pierre Masperos. Oh my goodness, there are no words. NO WORDS.

Widespread Panic was AMAZING. Thanks to the kindness of stranger, we lucked up and got free tickets for Friday night's concert, too. Great friends + great music = A grand time was had by all.

I found a dive that sold homemade bread pudding for only $2. Score!

H headed back to the Mobeezy on Sunday morning, and dropped me off at The Hilton Convention Center Hotel for one last night of debauchery with my gals. And then I realized they were staying at The Hilton Garden Inn, which was approximately 800 miles away. So I proceeded to haul all my luggage for 92 gazillion blocks because I couldn't find an ATM and I had no cash for a cab. Sigh.

But...I think I saw Drew Brees!!! Drew, what the H?!? You could have at least offered a southern gal a ride considering I had a Vera Bradley bag that weighed the same as Deuce McCallister. But whatev. I will forgive you this time simply because you're Drew Brees and I love you. Who Dat!?!?!

We dressed up for Halloween. We were the Harlem Globetrotters. And yes...these are homemade costumes.

While our ragtag group of girlfriends may have a doctor, a kindergarten teacher, an attorney, a few salespeople, and even a dental hygienist....we do not have a seamstress. But my 'fro is off to Jenny who made some darn good jerseys!

Halloween in New Orleans is, well, a lot to take in to say the least. After that weekend, I felt like I needed to wash my corneas. And RUN to the nearest church.

The Saints beat the Steelers! Who Dat!?!?! I'm guessing it was because Palomolo (sp?-Lawd have mercy nobody can spell that last name) was too busy posing for pics on Bourbon Street to worry about playing football. But that is A-okay in my book!

I also walked (and drug my sweet friend Katie) another 800 miles to a place called Ellie Monster. This is a vintage shoe store of which stories and legends are made. I was told they had a fabulous selection of vintage riding boots that were even affordable. Sadly, after walking those said 800 miles, we realized we had passed by our destination because their sign was the size of a postage stamp. And they were closed. Sigh.

I ate two jalapeno poppers straight out of H's pocket at 5:30 in the morning. Don't judge me for that, please.

But in the end, no matter the somewhat demented things one might see, hear, or smell in New Orleans--it's always a good time.