N'awlins: Post Mardi Gras

What can I say?  New Orleans in late March was just what I needed.  The weather was warm; the music, hot.  The food was intoxicating; the people, friendly; and the drink, flowing.  I could have stayed longer and since it's 32 degrees outside here at home, I should have!

I started my trip at 12:39 pm at the train station in Ann Arbor.  The day was glorious, in the 50's, and felt like spring was here.  I shared a seat with a retired second grade teacher as we headed to Chicago.  This was to become a theme for me.  Educators, retired or otherwise, outnumbered any other profession represented by the various people I met on this trip.  She lived in Detroit but was hoping to sell her home and to join her remaining siblings in their home country, Canada.  Once in Chicago, she went her way and I went to the lounge to wait for The City of New Orleans.  While my incoming train arrived late, this train left right on time and as it happens, arrived in New Orleans within fifteen minutes of its published arrival time.  On this leg of the trip I shared a seat with another teacher.  She had been spending her spring break visiting her mother in Chicago along with her two and five year old daughters.  She taught sixth grade language arts in Memphis.

As she and I talked of education and child-rearing, her two daughters sat peacefully playing educational games on iPods in the seats across from us.  Before too long it was dinner time.  They had cold pizza.  I had health bars, an apple, and a small bottle of water.  After dark we all settled down for the long night and sleep.

Unfortunately, I slept very little.  I wasn't prepared for the cold or the difficulty of sleeping in a less than horizontal position.

When morning came, I had another health bar, an apple, and the last small bottle of water I brought with me.  I know it doesn't sound like a lot but I felt full.  Knowing I was going to be eating well for the next several days, I thought I was being smart by dieting now.  The rest of the journey was uneventful and we arrived at the New Orleans train station as I stated above, within fifteen minutes of our scheduled arrival time.  I immediately got a taxi and headed to our hotel.  My sister hadn't yet arrived so I proceeded to unpack all the while anticipating a soaking hot tub as it had been over 24 hours since I bathed, brushed my teeth, or washed my face.  Add to that my lack of sleep.  I needed to relax and rest before heading out for the evening.  No such luck as Jeana arrived before I had emptied my suitcase.

A quick bath, a fresh set of clothes, a clean face and teeth and off we went.  Our first stop was the Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone.  A glass of Chardonnay for me, a beer for her.  Chips were provided but knowing I was going to be eating chargrilled oysters soon, I avoided spoiling my appetite.  As we caught up on each other's news, we sipped our drinks.  I began feeling a bit odd but then, the Carousel Bar revolves and my own sense of spinning, I attributed to that.  Once our glasses were emptied, we headed to Acme. 



As has generally been the case for the Acme Oyster Bar and Grill in the afternoon, there was a line, a short one but a line nonetheless.  As Jeana and I continued to chat, I felt a bit disoriented, feeling vertigo, and needing to stablilize myself.  I reached out to the wall.  Try as I could, the growing sense that I was about to pass out could not be denied or avoided.  As I lowered myself to put my head between my knees, I had visions of myself sprawled on the filthy sidewalk, viewed as just another drunk.  How humiliating!  As I slide down to a squat, my sister reached out to me noting with alarm that I was clammy.  I asked her to get me some bread or crackers or something to put on my stomach.  Bless her heart, she jumped right to it and before I was out, I was chewing on crackers.  While I seemed not to have any saliva with which to soften the dry crumbs, just having them in my mouth seemed to fortify me.  I pulled myself up, all the while chomping on crackers.  Almost as soon as I was standing, our name was called and we were quickly seated at the bar.  I was better but not yet normal.  As I lay my head on the bar, I told the waiter I wasn't feeling well.  With good humor and a knowing smirk, he asked me if I was drunk.  See?  I knew that was the conclusion anyone would draw upon seeing me in my condition.  I stiffened my back, raised my head and looked right at him and declared, "I'm hungry and dehydrated, not drunk!"   A glass of water and a basket of crackers quickly appeared. 




Half a dozen chargrilled oysters and three pieces of French bread dipped in the drippings later and I was back to normal.  The lesson here is that health bars and two small bottles of water in 24 hours followed by a glass of Chardonnay is not a good idea!  Believe me, I did not repeat that on the trip back home.

Saturday Jeana and I explored the Quarter after having a large brunch on Jackson Square.  At 2:00 we joined a number of other people for a Historic Culinary Tour of New Orleans.  It started at Antoines and then moved through about nine other restaurants while we also received commentary on others that we walked past.  At each stop, we were given samples -- gumbo, shrimp remoulade, red beans and rice, pralines, muffaletta, gelato, jambalaya, and others.  Absolutely no chance to repeat my physical fiasco of the preceeding day!  At La Davina we had the best chocolate gelato I've ever had, Aztec.  A bit of cayenne, cinnamon, and lots of chocolate.  Yum!  They also served what the guide called an improved version of the muffaletta.  I have to agree that adding cheese, a different kind of bread, and toasting it like a paninni was much better than the original I had back in November
.

While I made it to Cafe du Monde three times before leaving New Orleans, I assure you I did not join this line on this day.  I find that getting there earlier in the morning, say 6:30 or so, and later in the night, say after midnight, makes getting cafe au lait and beignets much faster and better.

 While Mardi Gras was well over, there was evidence of the festival festooning some on the buildings.

On this trip, I noticed more street performers than I had in other post-Katrina trips.  More importantly there were more street musicians.  The group below is fantastic.  I had heard Doreen, the clarinetist, during a pre-Katrina trip to New Orleans but this was the first time I found her performing since.  It was a joy to hear her and to see the crowds form as she played.

 In addition to the great music, we found new places to eat.  The Green Goddess was our culinary highlight.  Off Exchange Place, it is just a very small hole in the wall but the food is to die for!  I had "bangers and mash", a wonderful duck sausage sided by mashed sweet potatoes blended with orange and spices, covered in a sauce that was both sweet and carried a spicy punch.  The dessert menu was equally enticing but I was far too full to take advantage of it.  A kind of New Orleans, Carribean, soulful food of complex flavors -- I could have eaten there every day and wish that I had.  Unfortunately for us, we discovered it on Sunday, had reservations at Snug Harbor for Monday.   It was closed on Tuesday.  We left on Wednesday. 

To learn more about The Green Goddess, check out this link:
http://www.greengoddessnola.com/

 Down the alley from The Green Goddess was the Somethin' Else Cafe, a great place for breakfast. 

 This jazz band and vocalist, along with Doreen, filled most of my daytime hours.  I could have listened to them nonstop.

 In the evening, we headed to Frenchman Street and more good food and music.  The Three Muses proved to be especially appetizing in both areas.  They specialize in jazz and small dishes.  Feta fries, pork belly, mojitos.  Hmmm....

I spent a lot of time exploring the warehouse district.  Emeril has a restaurant there.  There's a place called w.i.n.o. (Wine Institute New Orleans) that carries over 120 different wines you can purchase by the ounce.  A willing staff will tell you more than you need to know about each.  The Red Slipper is not far from it and made for a great breakfast stop.  Bread pudding pancakes, yummy!

 

Didn't get to check out the wares or sample the food at Hot Chocolate! but sure enjoyed looking at the window display.  Sweets, chocolate, and sex toys!  What a combination!

Spent quite a bit of time sitting at the bar in the Napoleon House.  Struck up a conversation with the gentleman next to me.  From Chicago and dealing in books, we had enough in common to keep us both interested while I had lunch.



It was with regret that I left New Orleans.  The weather was perfect; the food, great; and the music, rousing.  I returned to Michigan, cold weather, spring just a promise but not yet a reality. 



Spring Thaw

Early spring.  Melting snow, river over its banks, potholes.  Bird song, sap flowing, the faint reddish haze of millions of tiny buds in the trees, and intrepid daffodil greenery poking up through the sodden soil if you look closely.  I've learned to love these teasers of what's just around the corner, to love the turn as much as the destination. 

Lots to look forward to.  Cleaning out the flower beds, waterproofing the deck, cleaning the bird feeders and putting out fresh seed, cooking outside on the grill, longer days, walks in the neighborhood, outside dining on Main Street at any one of the wonderful cafes and restaurants found there, jazz on the patio at the Gandy Dancer, spring flowers and flowering trees in bloom, spring cleaning, white wine.  So much goodness to savor.  So much to cherish. 

Why is it, do you think, that the older I get the more I notice and appreciate the minute changes as seasons transition?  This appreciation has grown over the last couple of years and the tragic events of this past week have only intensified these feelings.  As I think on it, everything is always in transition.  Nothing really stays the same and each change, whether the gradual changes of seasons or the sudden changes wrought by horrific events, should be reminders to us to live in the moment with preparedness for the next.  Maybe that is the answer to my question.  Maybe it took almost sixty-two years to learn it.

 

Exsurpise at Sixty Plus

Here I am sixty-one going on sixty-two and I am doing something I never did before -- exercising.  Well, that's not exactly true.  Over the years I've done the aerobic thing and the running thing and the yoga thing.  I've sweated to the oldies but prior to July this past year I never lifted weights or worked with a personal trainer.  I'm doing both regularly now. 

My workout lasts an hour and during that time my trainer puts my body through the wringer.  A warm-up on the treadmill, leg work, upper body work, crunches, balance  and stability work, and stretches are all a part of the routine.  I sweat and I pant through this and I never look as happy as any of the folks in the photos below!  My happiness comes when I put on my street clothes and head for home.

At home I work with two and three and four pound weights.  With my trainer, I have progressed up to twelve pounds.  Doesn't sound like much, does it?  But believe me, it took hard work to get that far. 

The trainer helps me do these exercises with good form.  Who knew?  I've learned that to get the maximum from my efforts, form matters.  And believe me, for the money I'm paying I want to get the maximum!

Something I really love about working with a trainer is that she tailors my routine to my age, my condition, and my needs.  Balance?  I figured I was doing pretty well.  After all, I haven't fallen except years ago when my dog wrapped his leash around my legs.  But the things she has me do have challenged me and I definitely can tell I'm much more stable on my feet.  Winter ice offers little challenge for me now.  When I do feel myself slipping, I can tell I regain my footing ever so much more quickly.  And doing exercises using equipment that promotes a bit of instability?  Never heard of such a thing prior to working with my trainer.  And yet, it's clear to me that having to maintain stability while doing a variety of exercises uses more muscles with less effort and thus, results in greater returns and less fatigue.

When I first started exercising, it was suggested that I walk on the days I don't workout.  That was easy to do during the summer and through the fall but I admit that winter was an obstacle I didn't overcome.  I tried going into the gym and using their equipment but having never embraced gym in any form, I found myself making excuses to not go.  It's something I'm going to have to overcome as I just learned my cholesterol is high.  If I walk regularly and continue the workouts and watch what I eat, I know I can get it back to the normal range without having to take medication.  That's my goal. 

Funny, I workout with my trainer twice a week and am very regularly working out on my own another once or twice a week.  No problem there.  I think it's a guilt and self-preservation thing.  I refuse to spend money and not get the benefit.  Also, I'm unwilling to hurt any more than necessary and pain is what I'd feel if I didn't keep up the routine on the off days.  Before getting the blood work results, I didn't feel too guilty about not walking though.  I knew I'd get back to it once the weather warmed up.  But now?  Well, guilt and self-preservation may serve me well in this, too.  We'll see.



This lady looks a bit older than me but oh, my, what a body!  I'm hoping to have arms and abs like hers in the near future.  Crunches are probably my least liked exercises but can't argue with the results.

Squats.  Hmmmm, this is one of the form exercises.  In fact, it doesn't look to me like this lady has very good form.  Her knees should not project past her toes which can be achieved by sticking your butt out and sitting back.  Feels funny and probably looks funny, too, but I'm told better to have good form and do fewer than to do more and do them incorrectly. 

This is the part I like best -- the stretches.  Ahhhhhh...




So, while these pictures are not of me, they depict the activity I engage in three to four times a week.  At 5:45 am I crawl out of bed, brush my teeth and wash my face, put on my workout clothes and moan, groan, sweat, and pant my way through an hour of exercises.  I never thought retirement would include working out.  Ever.  Exercise exsurprise!

Spring Appeteaser

Just returned from a weeklong trip south.  When we left, the snow had melted and except for a few small patches in surface depressions, I could envision green grass and spring flowers just around the corner.  Going south only enhanced my appetite for spring.  We have had enough winter.

After numerous stops at antique malls and the artist and craft stop off the interstate in Berea, Kentucky (where, by the way, we saw daffodils just beginning to poke their heads up out of the ground), we arrived in Knoxville, Tennessee.  Somewhere along the way, I had shed my winter coat and replaced it with a blue jean jacket. 

The air was cool but held promise of warmth to come. We chose our hotel strategically to allow for walking to and from various venues.  Our hotel is in the far left lower corner of the picture above. 

Our first stop was not, however, walkable -- Patrick Sullivan's, a historic tavern established in 1888.  Supposedly members of Butch Cassidy's gang and Wild Bill Cody frequented this bar and we definitely wanted to add our names to its clientele.


The bar was all I hoped it would be -- lots of wood, the original back bar, stairs that led to the brothel that once occupied the second floor.  We enjoyed fried pickles, a sandwich, and a beer before walking around a bit in the immediate area.  We were there on Sunday night which accounted for the quiet but it was easy to see that on a Friday and Saturday, this area would definitely be a draw for anyone looking for a good time.

From Sullivan's we headed back to our hotel, parked and then walked downtown, less than six blocks away.  Yes, it was a Sunday evening but this area was much more lively.  People were taking in a show at the Tennessee and enjoying food and beverage at various restaurants along the main street.  The night air was light jacket cool and dry, a pleasant evening for walking.  Before leaving Sullivan's we had asked the bartender for her recommended destinations if she only had time for two more stops before turning in for the night.  We had already planned on the local brew pub she mentioned and she added Preservation Bar.

 
Our first stop was the Downtown Grill and Brewery.  As is our habit at brew pubs, we  sat at the bar.  Tables are fine for dining but the bar is best for meeting people and getting inside information from the bartender.  We ordered a beer sampler and were in the midst of comparing, not only one beer with another but each beer with beer we had had a other such establishments, the gentleman beside me shared his personal preferences.  We talked about beer and Knoxville for a brief while.  As he finished his drink, he wished us a good journey and headed off into the night.  For the most part, the beer was nondescript.  I preferred the IPA and Roger enjoyed the wheat beer.  Since we didn't eat there, I can't speak to the quality of the food but it sure smelled good.
 

Downtown Grill and Brewery, Knoxville, Tennessee




















Our final stop for the night, Preservation Bar, was located around the market square, just a couple blocks away.  Smaller and older and darker and smoky, it better met the standard definition of a bar.  Mostly male occupied and the bar full, we sat at a table and read the historic information posted on the walls.  Band members were coming in with their instuments getting ready for a late night show.  We may have stayed longer had the music been jazz but as it wasn't and the smoke was getting to us so we left before finishing our beer.


Outside a small impromptu band was playing in the empty square.  Had it been earlier we might have stayed to enjoy their version of southern country music.  Instead we meandered our way back to our hotel.  All in all I'd say Knoxville was a welcoming city offering picturesque architecture, good food, and the potential of a great evening if we had been there on a Friday or Saturday.  As it was, it made for a pleasant Sunday evening.

Our next stop was Atlanta, a city we've visited a number of times before.  Staying only the night, we chose to stay in Buckhead and enjoy Club 290.  Though night, the weather was warm enough to shed the jackets.  The music at Club 290 (unfortunately, I deleted the photo by accident) was Joe Gransden Big Band, seventeen members, with male vocalists -- Joe, who also played the trumpet and a guest.  Both men sang well, smooth jazz.  The guest did a nice impression of Presley and Sinatra.  The band was great.  We dined at Club 290 and enjoyed our meal though I would probably not order a steak there next time.  We stayed through the last set which is a testimony to how much we enjoyed ourselves.

The following morning we had breakfast at The Flying Biscuit.  Organic, homemade, the breakfast was good but I can't say that I enjoyed their namesake that well.  I prefer my biscuits light and flakey and this one was huge, dense, and heavy.  The taste was fine though.

After a number of antique stops, we finally pulled into Mom's driveway in Port Charlotte.  The sky was clear and the air warm.  Mom was ready and waiting for us so we didn't waste any time heading to dinner.  I love this little Italian restaurant.  The food is good.  The price is right.  And the decor is wonderful, a little Italy with a starry sky.  We were serenaded at some point with That's Amore and received a long stem rose as a souvenir.  Roger headed farther south to see his brother and I stayed to visit with Mom.  The pictures below are typical of the weather and the views.




Roger returned two days later and the following morning we were back on the road heading north.  The song talks about the difference a day makes.  I don't know about that but a week sure does.  Look at how spring has progressed as we retraced our path.


Early spring in Georgia.  The grass was green and the buds on the trees were more than a faint haze of greens and reds.  Tennessee, while not as green, now sported trees with buds ready to unfold.


We saw daffodils in bloom in Georgia and even in Tennessee.




Pansies were happily turning their faces to the sun, also.


Kentucky wasn't quite as far along but that faint haze I referred to earlier that was seen in Tennessee on our way down had made its way to Kentucky. 




So had the rain.  In Ohio, we saw lots of flooding with evidence of snow not there on our way south.






And finally, we arrived home.  Imagine our shock when we found the ground not only covered with snow but with inches of snow.  Our driveway had at least five inches!  Rather than drive in, we parked on the side of the street, got out our snow shovels, and began to clear away heavy, crusty, wet snow.  It was the hardest snow clearing job we've had to do all year but it was also necessary.  Had we tried to drive up, I'm certain we would have gotten stuck. 




So, spring isn't in Ann Arbor yet.  Today it's 40 degrees out and there is some melting taking place.  It will take a couple more days of this to once again see the ground.  I'm hoping that it's the last snow of the year and that in another week or so, I will see evidence of the hundred of daffodils we planted last fall.  As for the trip, it was great but it left me with little appetite for snow and ravenous for spring.

Baby, It's Cold Outside! Brrrrrrrrrrr...

The sky is as clear as can be.  The sun is shining brightly.  The ground, and all that is on it, is swathed in white.  Roof lines are dripping icicles.  It's really, really cold outside.  It's winter.

I love living where there are four seasons.  This winter has had its own special charms but it's easy to see that it comes with a price.  For all it's beauty, the snow will eventually melt.  Things that are white now will turn a dingy gray or worse.  The run-off will result in flooding.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that our basement will continue to be the dry basement we've come to expect and love.  The bit of ice you see below is what has dropped off the roof onto plant stakes.  Imagine that accumulation all along the eaves.  We've already sprung a leak along the valley between the original house and the addition.  I can only imagine how much worse it will be when this all starts to melt in earnest.

On the other hand, this is the view from my living room window.  Peaceful.  Quiet.  Clean.  I've only trudged through this a couple of times to refill the bird feeders.  They are enjoyed not only by the birds but also by the various critters who are brave enough to venture out now and again.  Squirrels mostly.  No one enters my yard without leaving a track.  The neighborhood cats, those pesky squirrels, a dog or two.  All have left prints.  And then there are those I can't identify. 



The chair below sits on our deck.  In the twenty years we've lived here, I've never seen our deck so buried.  That chair has never been so deep in snow.

The portion of the deck below is a bit protected by trees and a trellis.  Still, you can see the snow has accumulated here, too.

Below's a good example of the ice before I knocked it off.  I don't think we would have avoided the ice dam this year no matter what but I sure wish we had made sure that the gutters were clean and the valleys swept.

I am definitely looking forward to spring but in the meantime, a homemade soup, some warm cornbread from the oven, a glass of wine, a fire in the fireplace, good music and good company are all mine to enjoy, here and now.