In keeping with my theme of getting back into the world and away from romper room, my mom and I did something pretty daring (for us): we ditched the kids and husbands and drove down to New Orleans. There were no major plans. We would just cruise the French Market, hit a few cute shops, and eat somewhere that children or husbands may not willingly dine.
For those of you not local or otherwise tuning in to the Weather Channel, we’ve been hammered by rain here. Like blinding, 1-3” per hour rain. For days. Hell, for 2 weeks. Everything is flooded. New Orleans is below sea level. Us driving there during a flash flood event would be akin to Noah steering his ark toward Venice looking for dry land.
It rained the whole way. As we were inching along the interstate, my mother kept saying “holy shit.” I finally told her if I did a shot every time she said “holy shit,” I’d be wasted before the Superdome was visible.
It rained on us the whole time we slogged around. We were both grateful that we had no open wounds on our feet, as more than once we were ankle deep in water. It is the French Quarter, after all. There was so much rain that water was bubbling up from around building foundations. Gutters and rain spouts were geysers.
We had fun. Despite it being soggy, we both found vintage kimonos straight from Japan. We hit Café du Monde. And while we were too bedraggled to eat anywhere with linen napkins, we still had a fine lunch in Jackson Square.