New Orleans

In 1814 we took a little trip…

Good morning, America How Are you?  Don't you know me, I'm your native son…

There's a moon over Bourbon Street...

There is a house in New Orleans…

So, this the place where all the music comes from.

I like it.

The streets that I've seen are narrow, with broken sidewalks and crooked drains, and the buildings are squeezed together, like sisters in a church pew.  I have yet to see the river, but the the humidity is lessened by the wind off of it, and there is the smell of things happening, and of spices and cooking shrimp.

No corner is the same.

Even the Marriott-- and I've been to a few versions of this hotel-- is different, with two different towers, joined by a bridge of the lobby.

All food is good food.

I'm sure this place has its dark corners like everywhere else, and I understand that in the morning, they have to hose the vomit off of Bourbon Street, but in the meantime, it is full of nooks and crannies, and I have gotten big smiles from nearly everyone I've dealt with.

And the accents are soft on the ear, rolling like honey, and kind.

So New Orleans is a good place, and the convention is going well-- I presented two panels today, and that was thrilling.  (Exhausting, too, but thrilling-- I love doing the presentations, but I do hope people reign me in if I start getting too Amy.)  I've met a lot of the awesome people that I look forward to seeing whenever I go to these things, not least among them Mary-my-Mary and Elizabeth who is the best boss and loveliest friend I could ever wish to have.   I got to see Suzanne Brockman in a panel led by the dynamic Sarah Frantz and although I had to run away at the end and couldn't stay to meet her, I at least got to see one of my idols and a writer I've always really admired.

And tomorrow I have the morning open.  I am going to wander New Orleans in company, and if life is good, find yarn before my interview-- or at least, some souvenirs for Squish and Zoomboy and company.

At the moment though, I'm a little bit sleepy.  Mary is mocking me while she labors industriously on her novella, and I flounder through my blog post-- usually, I get more work done than this, but tonight, I may have to concede that, as lovely as New Orleans is, it's not home, and I have had something of a month.

Even so-- I would like to get to know this city better.  It truly is darkly charming.