Leavin' on a jet plane

This is our first weekend at home in a while, and it feels nice to just sit on the couch and read the Times with a cup of coffee. Yes, I really am *that* domesticated.

First weekend of May was New Orleans Jazz Festival. New Orleans was a troubled city long before Katrina hit and it's struggling to bounce back -- many people haven't returned, businesses have closed, critical infrastructure isn't in place. BUT it's still a magical place where the homogenization of America seems not to have encroached. Its music, food, architecture and culture still feels like no other part of the country I've ever visited.

In some ways, it's like the Caribbean. You know that "no problem, mon" ethos where people in the islands get things done if and when they feel like it? New Orleans has that kind of laid back, almost to the point of comotose, work ethic. To enjoy New Orleans, you've got to lower your expectations and get into its pace, which is shock to a New Yorker's system.

In other ways, it's all about individual responsibility, sort of libertarians sipping sazaracs. In a city with a reputation for hard partying, not only can you still smoke in bars, but you can buy a drink in a bar then wander out the door with it. No open intox bans here. All over town you'll find sidewalks with giant chunks missing and not so much as a cursory splash of orange spray paint warning you to watch your step. If you got drunk and tripped in a pothole the size of a Buick, whose fault is that? You should have been paying attention. Ditto the amount of marijuana smoke we smelled all weekend, bands set up informally playing in the middle of the street in the French Quarter and various other activities that just wouldn't fly in most parts of the U.S.

I think it would be horrifically frustrating to live there but after this visit, I could see making Jazz Fest an annual pilgrimage. Who'se in for 2009? We'll be there the first weekend of May.

Here are some of my favorite images of us hanging out with Matt and Lisa, Bob and Kathleen, Cara and Doug, enjoying food, drink and music -- not always in that order, but, well, probably in that order a lot of the time.


































































































































































American Airlines screwed us over on our flights to and from New Orleans -- John had found direct flights at perfect times, and without notifying us, they cancelled those flights and put us onto connecting ones that drastically cut into our fun time in NOLA. So thanks to a very understanding boss, we didn't accept the lousy red eye flight they wanted us to take home, which would have trimmed one whole day from our vacation, and instead we added another day to our stay.

That meant we got home, and I only had three days at work before we headed out for a long weekend in Chicago. This was Dad's idea, sort of to celebrate his birthday, and somehow because I think even though he's retired with nothing but time, he would rather visit us in a place he can drive to than one where he's got to pay for airline tickets.

Sadly, we took no photos of hanging out with Dad, or with John's nephew Ian and his girlfriend Jess, John's sister Tracy who came in from North Muskegon with her daughter Amanda and her daughter Bela. But a good time was had by all, with still more eating and drinking.

It's a miracle my work clothes still fit.