I've said this before, but it bears repeating.
There are some awe inspiring writers out there in D-Land. They are able to sit down at a keyboard and whip out an entry full of joy or pain and make you a part of it, put you right there at their elbow for a few minutes. I won't go into linking any of them just now, I like to reserve that for when one someone just knocks me over. It happens more often than I actually link names, and I should work on that.
But I'll say this. Some of the best of 'em seem to wind up here, and leave me post-it notes on the refridgerator that is my life, and elect to hang around and say nice things about me. To all of you, a toast - Here's to the words within us and why we say them.
I spent last night more or less on-line (hmmmm, there's a Grateful Dead song behind that somewhere) studying the electronic brochures and posters and waving of hand billboards for travel, and vacations. New Orleans in the spring. Jazzfest. Oh yeah, I'm going back to the bayou.
Last year's trip was, without question, one of the best times I've ever had anywhere.
I got to share it with some half-million other folks. A curious thing, most of them were my age, fans of jazz and good music in general, from all over the United States and beyond. We came, we spent vast sums on hotel and restuarants and bead shops and music stores.
So most of my time last night was spent in getting ready for the hotel shuffle. I probably should have made reservations already, but there's still time. I just like looking at the quirky bed and breakfast type of places in New Orleans that pop up on my screen, with that laid back sort of funkiness that you only find down there.
Last year wife Ally made the trip with me. Let's just say the cycle of moons prevented her from fully realizing what she was missing down there (and yes, it was pretty bad, I'm being kinder than I should be, here). I wouldn't want a repeat of that episode. When Outfoxed invades Nawlins, it shall be with warriors of the tribe of Jazzaholics who know stopping to smell the roses is not a bad thing.
Suffice to say that I'm having some of that cackling glee fun looking at the words and pictures that describe what my vacaton will be. It is a project, and the anticipaiton alone is half the fun.
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