One Drink Minimum, Y'all (Said the Bouncer at the Spotted Cat)

It's been a long time since I wrote about living in New Orleans.  When we were living in Calgary, New Orleans seemed impossibly far away, geographically, financially and logistically.  It is well known among my close personals that I did not find living in New Orleans simple or comfortable.  It was a volatile affair; periods of lusty joy followed by stretches of anger and rejection.

When we moved away, I was ready for the departure.  I was ready to be where laws and rules were not subject to the whim of the enforcer and where carrying a purse was not an invitation to be mugged.  That does not mean, however that I didn't miss things.  I missed many, many things, the way that you miss things you experience and feel passionate about.

Last weekend, we had an opportunity to visit our very close friends who (mostly) live there.  They are tricky to track down because sometimes he is offshore, and usually she is working in Denver.  But technically, they live in New Orleans.  They are responsible for introducing us to most of the things in New Orleans that we loved, and about which we reminisce.  So last weekend, we visited them and experienced a tiny, mini, perfect microcosm our past life.  It was delicious.  I ate and drank everything.  I heard high-quality live music for very little money.  I saw my friends dance together in the sweetest way.

I can't live in New Orleans because it is a bad fit for my long-term mental and physical health, but having a few favorite spots and people there makes it a perfect weekend away.  Now I'm refreshed and ready to get back to business.