week 10 a clarity

Up to double-digits now, and I’m both sad and eager. I’m enjoying my stay but I’m lonely. I miss people who love me and that I can be silly with. Talking to shopkeepers and co-working space people just isn’t the same.

Sunday last was more of the same tediousness but I was making progress so I got things going early on and walked up Esplanade in search of groceries and coffee on a cool, glorious morning. I don’t enjoy walking across four-lane highways and under interstates but otherwise it’s a pleasant walk. I found some mayhaw jelly (new to me and could be tarter but it’s good enough) and tried Cypress Cakes on my way back. Unfortunately the coffee was bitter and the pastries lackluster. A rare miss.

I reached out to my New Orleans acquaintance about meeting up but he never replied. However, a friend’s daughter was in town so we texted and agreed to meet up Monday. I took an afternoon break to walk through the JamNOLA Festival, then finished up work and headed home late.

Monday: nervous about letting my boss know the tedious project wasn’t quite finished, I was up early, got another batch going, and headed out in PNW-like fog for French Truck Coffee. It was a joy to see my friend’s daughter, who sounds like her Mom and patiently gave me an hour to hang out and talk. She isn’t a fan of New Orleans--it’s busy but slow, she said. As opposed to New York City, which is busy and fast. We also discussed how Southerners seem more closed off than Seattleites to adding new friends. I do wonder. (And the biscuit breakfast sammy from French Truck is surprisingly good: get the pimiento cheese, spicy and tangy, and don’t toss out the herbed strawberries.)

The day dragged as co-workers got snarly about some of their files and I had to stay late to work and then jump on a cousin Zoom and then a friend Zoom. I made it home by 9 pm, so tired I was in tears.

Tuesday I looked forward to ushering but that alas was canceled and my boss needed help with another tough project.

By Wednesday I was so tired it was all I could do to work and stagger home.

But Thursday! Most meetings canceled, I took a rare afternoon break and walked to Rouse’s, shot the shit with a guy complaining about cops rounding up homeless and vendors off Jackson Square to prepare for the Macrons’ visit, then strolled to Baldwin & Co to sit on the patio with hot tea and some reading.

Friday I took comp time and even though I felt headachey and sinus pressure, went for a long hike across town, checking out Honest Bakery (ok pastries, diffident service), and impulsively walking back through the Warehouse District. I stopped at Le Mieux Galleries and was amazed by the art (especially Kathryn Hunter’s witty embroidery).

On my way back along the river I walked through the shopping mall, gazed at the Mississippi, and lurked by Jackson Square hoping to see Macron and madame. A Dickie Brennan's waiter in sharp red lipstick poked her head out a French door. “What’s going on out here?” The French president, I said. She made a face--bah--and shut the door. This day I stopped at St. Coffee for more patio time, then Rosalita’s for a watermelon margarita.

By Saturday I felt better and got writing done before the big gala event. I got emotional walking there, with people in festive holiday headdresses and glittery clothes, hearing Vince Garibaldi playing, and literally no one I know to wander with. But, I went to my shift and worked for two hours, checking wristbands, giving directions, surviving one “don’t you know who I am,” and evicting one would-be party-crasher. I’m sure there were notables but I only recognized the football player guy from Southern Charm New Orleans. There were gowns and sequined coats, high heels and big hair, a seven-foot tall man in a kilt and top hat, two men in tuxes rolling a giant wooden cent around (“big money coming through!”), and of course jazz. A Spanish-themed quintet, a vibrant second line complete with Baby Dolls I’d met earlier, a free shot of whisky courtesy of a woman bartender I chatted up, plus an all-woman jazz band complete with washboard. Outside in the muggy night as tourists gawked and the beautiful people lounged and a horn played from the balcony, I felt a moment of gladness.