Monday, January 13, 2014

Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler

In many ways, living in Louisiana feels like being away at college.  There is this party feel in the air all the time.  Even a regular Tuesday.
 


Your best friends live right next door and down the street.  When you want to slip away from your responsible life for a minute, you shuffle to them in your slippers as they are waiting for you with your glass of white already in their hands.






Can't you just smell the patchouli?


Purple, green, and gold Mardi Gras colors frame every doorway in booming classy ribbon puffs.  Black and gold Saints regalia adorn most indoor archways.  The French influence is alive with Louisiana's cuisine, street names and the ever present fleur-de-lis pride on many walls.






Everyone invites you over for "the game."  And the appetizers are always shrimp.  When someone's grilling, it's a feast for a street and not just one family's dinner.
 
When we learned we were moving here, I was severely depressed  not thrilled.  I thought what's a northern family like us going to do in a southern town like New Orleans?
 




Have the time of their lives, that's what.






Man did I have a lot to learn about judgments.  I knew next to nothing about Louisiana other than how I needed to buy more tank tops and learn to love gumbo.






Since settling into our little niche north of the big city, the laid back energy of this town has inched its way into the soles of our feet.


Grayson is desperately trying on a southern accent by forcing himself to say, "y'all" when he normally uses "you guys."  The measured pause before and after are enough for us to lose it to the giggles but we try to honor his chameleon whenever possible.






Abby has quite naturally acclimated into a southern girl.  She often asks me to find her "hayah tahs" for her "hayah."  The girl's feet are forever the demise of our carpet as I cannot convince her to wear shoes.  Or pants.   If I do win out and get pants on those busy legs, she defies my parenting and smacks on the loudest skirt you've evah seehn over top.






Even Andy has become the family man of my dreams.  He always was but couldn't show it off when the Pentagon or Command & Staff had him tied up with their agenda.  It's the nature of the military beast.  You have a husband but they have a Marine.  They win.  You wait aggressively pining patiently praying he eventually gets a billet that does not own his time at home, too.  Including weekends.





-pause -Y'all -pause-, we got it.  They moved us here.





Louisiana has been so good for us and in return I have no choice but to love it hard, like the neurotic passionate northern girl I will always be.


*My blog is experiencing technical difficulties; not allowing its pilot to add pictures, space correctly, or make a mean paella.  Hope to get it sorted out soon.  Or else we'll all starve.  Creatively, emotionally, and figuratively.  Thanks for bearing with me.  Is it baring?  I never know.  (Ooohlala.)  I love you guys, y'all.

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