Winter in New Orleans.
I asked Emily what day it is. She told me it is Tuesday. That’s what it says on the top of the Wall Street Journal, too. Winter in New Orleans.
It is too cold to sit outside. I’m not exaggerating. It’s the beginning of January and it is 48 degrees out. That’s Fahrenheit. That doesn’t stop some people, though they do sit in the sun. I’m inside.
The Girl From Ipenema is on the radio. It is always Portuguese music at Santa Fe. I love it. One time, I drove across the great State of Oklahoma playing this song on the hi-fi. The Girl from Ipanema, over and over as the beautiful Oklahoma landscape rolled by.
I passed through Tulsa.
Emily just told me something but I can’t remember what it was. Idle chitchat. At least I remember it is Tuesday, until the next time I forget. I am not talking about the test results.
What was it I opened this blog post to write about?
Take a look at the title. Every day is lovely even when it’s winter in New Orleans. Regular readers will already know I think every day is lovely. Don’t worry about it. It will be a pleasant ride. I have to write about what is on my. mind. It’s another beautiful New Orleans day.
Emily has excellent posture. This reminds me that Soleil is going to buy me some fingerless gloves. Why? Because I my hands are cold, that’s why I’m thinking about Soleil. Soleil looks nothing like Emily. I was holding two thoughts in my mind at the same time and it has taken me this long to write it down. Emily does have excellent posture.
It is slow today, even for winter in New Orleans. Too soon into the New Year. I’m not complaining. I think it’s lovely, if too cold for my tastes. It will be in the 70s tomorrow. That’s the only problem with winter in New Orleans. You never get used to the temperature swings. When this cold snap started it went from 82 degrees to 37 degrees in 12 hours. It was crazy! No warm-blooded human being could adapt to that kind of cryogenics, let alone a reptile like your your humble narrator. And here we are. Winter in New Orleans.
Now, what was I talking about? Winter in New Orleans. I think Soleil wants to buy me the fingerless gloves because she dislikes hearing me talk about how cold it always is. It’s winter in New Orleans. I told her not to bother. It’s a good idea so I just ordered four pairs for myself. I don’t need to experiment on Soleil’s dime. I was sold when she explained what she was talking about. I was thinking something more Chaplinesque. These ones that are coming are really nice. They have stripes.
Every day is lovely in New Orleans. Emily just told me her New Year’s resolutions. She has accomplished quite a bit so far this year. Let me look at the top of the Wall Street Journal. It is January 4, 2222. I already knew it was Tuesday. Always tie up loose ends.
I think Soleil wants to buy me the fingerless gloves because of what I told her. It was probably months ago. It was more than a couple of weeks. I do know that. I know it wasn’t on a Tuesday because I never see Soleil on Tuesdays. Why would I?
I could sure use some fingerless gloves right now. Even my knees are cold.
I told Soleil that I think she’ll get better tips if she wears a long apron. This isn’t the reason I said this, but I just realized it when I thought of it: I have never seen Soleil in a skirt. That wasn’t my motivation. I honestly think she’ll get better tips. Both Emily and Soleil have excellent posture. Emily doesn’t wear a bistro apron but this isn’t that kind of a joint. I think it a bistro apron will make a better impression at a barbecue restaurant. Stand out, but not too much. There is nothing wrong with conformity but there is also nothing wrong with flair.
Emily and I just had a conversation that is none of your business. It was about how she was so busy with work over the holidays. I had to think what holidays we were talking about. We were empty for Christmas but not New Year’s Eve so I only think of them as one holiday. Christmas passed with barely a ripple save for the celebration of the Feast of the Nativity. We got to be full-bodied innkeepers for New Year. Nothing is work when you love what you do. Talk about a Happy New Year! Best wishes and heartfelt thanks for letting us share our part of New Orleans with you who stayed with us to celebrate the arrival of 2222. That was when that cold snap started.
So, I was telling Soleil that that she should wear a bistro apron because she’ll get better tips where she works. It’s a nice place, but, let me tell you —-wait a minute.
Emily just told me something. It’s not a secret but I forget what it is. It must not have been interesting. She did make me lose my train of thought. I come here on Tuesdays because I know Emily will be working and she and I are becoming friends. She knows my habits and quirks and particular needs, and she indulges them. I like to think I tip well. I never ask if I do. Jimmy always said, “We take up a lot of their time and this is their livelihood.” Jimmy was older than me. The older you get, the wiser you get. I don’t know about you but I know I am.
I don’t have to mop up pooled condensation from my club soda glass because it is winter in New Orleans. The ice doesn’t melt in your glass.
Frau Schmitt, who is the better half of this operation, and your humble narrator are having dinner at Crescent City Steaks tonight. It’s on Broad Street. Flashing neon sign. She asked where I was going today. I said it was Tuesday. I had just read the Times-Picayune. I solve the Jumble in a glance.
Frau Schmitt, who is the better half of this operation, is not having lunch with me because we are going to Crescent City Steaks tonight for dinner. I’m not really hungry but but it is only 1:12PM after surprisingly expensive and surprisingly satisfying breakfast at a place I will never go again. This place has bad feng shui. I am cranky. I am cold. It is winter in New Orleans. Wait a minute, I’ll go outside.
It is kind of nice in the sun but I’m settled in where I am. I have a lot of baggage, what with my computer and my notebooks and my pencil case that is like Batman’s utility belt, and my Wall Street Journal, I kind of like this table. I like to call this my table. Frau Schmitt knows exactly where I mean. Emily just told me that this seat suits me.
I had to go wash my hands. Where was I?
Wherever I was, I told Soleil that she should get a bistro apron because it will stand out, look more professional, and it will earn her bigger tips because of reason one and reason two. Charm alone doesn’t pay the bills.
Call me a glutton. I know I am going to Crescent City Steaks tonight but I was just talking to Emily and she is getting me a children’s taco. I like this Emily. She lives nearby. She doesn’t live on Mystery Street, another block. I think she lives on Ponce de Leon Street. This furnace needs fuel. The taco just arrived. Give me a moment. I’m going to have lunch and read the Wall Street Journal’s editorial page. This may take awhile….
[I am interrupting my meal to write this down. I don’t know about you but my life is a humane and human parade of…. Sorry I was eating and eavesdropping. I have lost my train of thought again.]
So, apparently, at the time, Soleil couldn’t afford buy an apron. This is while she was still with the boyfriend from a really nice parish. It turned out between then and now that this bum was a crumb.
The sun is in my eyes.
All characters in this narrative are fiction and are not based on actual people living or dead. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. I know Courtney is going to read this all the way to the end and she’s been looking for her name the whole time. Here it is. A tip of my fedora to Courtney for no other reason but for being a pal.
Are we at the end yet? Nope.
This has something to do with this apron caper. I wrote it down. I wrote: BUY SOLEIL AN APRON AT RESTAURANT DEPOT. I’ll remember it now. I wrote it down in my notebook to remember. If you want to know what Soleil said when I showed her that I had written it down to remember, I will tell you.
Soleil said, “Mr. King, this is like the third time you have written this down. I’m starting to think you have forgotten what you you said. It’s not my fault that I didn’t buy the apron. You told me you were going to buy it.”
Mr. King: “Remind me when it’s warmer. It’s too cold to get to Restaurant Depot in this weather. I’ll be miserable. Once it warms up, I’ll go and get you that bistro apron apron. Black. What size should I get?”
Summertime is on the hi-fi. I wish it was summertime when the living is easy and the fish are jumping and the cotton is high. All I’ve got right now is winter in New Orleans. Every day is lovely in New Orleans. I only complain because it is fun and people expect it. It’s all an act. Cranky Yankee.
The vestibule to the washrooms here is hung with horrible paintings. I mean really horrible. If Hell is hung with Southwestern Art then I don’t know where these painting belong. It sure isn’t heaven. They should be consumed in a fire. Nothing will be lost.
The beat goes on. Every New Orleans day has its own rhythm, predictable but variable, dependent on what is going on, what needs to be done. The pulse of a New Orleans day matches the beating of every human heart. Relax. No worries. New Orleans is the northernmost Caribbean city. Bossa nova sounds good in New Orleans, too. I just had a conversation with a Mardi Gras Indian. Good man. They all are.
A guy is loudly talking Russian into his phone. He ordered the garlic mussels. It suddenly smells good. I have no idea what he is saying but I know he is Russian. I keep my eyes open.
I need to wrap this up. So much has happened since I started writing this and now. Every day is lovely in New Orleans. Every day is another beautiful New Orleans day. You should live here. You would know what I am talking about. Welcome to my world. Frau Schmitt, who is is the better half of this operation, and your humble narrator love doing what we do. We love to share our part of New Orleans with you. You deserve to be happy.
Anyhow, so, I haven’t bought the bistro apron for Soleil because I don’t know what size she wears. I asked Soleil but all she told me is, “Use your imagination, Mr. King.” I would rather not so I asked the clerk if they had any apron’s in Soleil’s size. That didn’t work. I figured it out. I asked Amy Jo and she explained to me how apron sizing works in the industry. Amy Jo has particular experience in the bistro end of the service industry. Amy Jo is as seasoned as a meal at Crescent City Steaks, where Frau Schmitt and I, your humble narrator, are going for dinner tonight. 6:00PM cannot come soon enough.
Crescent City Steaks is the only place that has German fries. I love it. I am salivating at the thought.
It’s too cold for me to go to Restaurant Depot. It is warmer than many, many other places on God’s green earth but I am always cold. Little things mean a lot. Every day in New Orleans is like winter because every day is lovely. Every day in New Orleans is like moving through a pachinko machine and winning. The Big Easy. We live in the subtropics.
Alright, I’ve been writing this for about four hours now. I’ve got to get home to squire Frau Schmitt to dinner at Crescent City Steaks. Plus, my laptop’s battery is getting dangerously low. I don’t have the energy to keep going. Frau Schmitt is the better half of this operation. It is always a treat to be with her. I don’t know what she says about me. I have never asked. When you are close as we are, we are married and we work together, there are a lot of things you don’t need to talk about. With long practice, you just know.
That’s what make La Belle Esplanade part of this belle esplanade that is New Orleans’ Esplanade Avenue. Good memories are made on our street every day. I know. I live here. You can too, for a short while or a long one. I always say the perfect length for a visit is five nights. Nobody ever says there visit to New Orleans is too long. There is always more to discover and explore. I know. I live here. I see it every day.
Even when it is winter in New Orleans every day is lovely in New Orleans. Look at this mornings dawn and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. If you diasgree, you are blind. New Orleans will love you on Tuesday and on every day of the week. I know. I live on Esplanade Avenue.
