Last week, I made some vague rumbling about something exciting that was going to happen.

Basically, I went on a vacation.  I didn't call it out in advance because, frankly, I don't like to announce when I'm not going to be home.

Anyway - Matt and I went to New Orleans for a long weekend.

It's kind of the perfect city for both of us.  Lots to do, great food, geographically desirable, photogenic, artsy, chill...perfect.


We had a killer trip.  We ate, drank and were merry.

My feet look like raw, aged hamburger meat - tons of walking - so, blisters and whatnot.

But we had a great time.  And we TOOK A DAMN VACATION.  Which we haven't done in way, way, way too long.

Now, I'm in Illinois (Matt's at home, so don't even think of robbing out house).  I'm watching the damn election results and I'm sweating.

But in my mind, I'm strolling up Rue Royal, about to get some oysters on the half shell. 

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