I live in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. Let me tell you about my day.
I met this pretty lady from California. You know how California people talk when they answer a question? This lady didn’t talk like that. She pretty much stayed on topic. I enjoyed talking with her. She was no Courtney. She was a nurse.
She is staying in the Lower Garden District. Airbnb. The Lower Garden is a very nice neighborhood. Frau Schmitt and I used to live there when we first planted ourselves in New Orleans. We have both grown where we are planted.
The motto of the great State of Connecticut is, “Qui Transtulit Sustinet.” Who Transplants Sustains. I am from Connecticut, a cranky Yankee to the core. I live in New Orleans. Everyone flourishes in New Orleans.
Frau Schmitt is the better half of this operation. I should have mentioned that.
So, this pretty lady from California is some kind of a traveling nurse. I don’t ask too many questions. I asked her what she has done while she was here. It’s a professional habit. I meet someone nice and I reflexively take an interest in helping them make good memories.
This pretty lady and I chitchatted a bit. I made some recommendations. I shared a section of the Wall Street Journal with her. I told the lady she should read La Belle’s blog. She might be in it.
Then, Frau Schmitt walked in. Frau Schmitt and I had a very nice lunch.
This all happened at Ralph’s-on-the-Park.
A baby was crying in the background. As Adele walked by she said, “We are all God’s children.” Babies are beautiful like a sunrise full of promise.
Frau Schmitt and I dined on smoked salmon and Louisiana caviar, the mid-grade kind. The caviar was delicious. Plump fishy bubbles. They really do pop when you bite them!
Frau Schmitt and I were chuckling about some shared private joke nobody else would understand when Eric popped into the conversation to tell me that someone had looked up the name for the drink that I drink. I didn’t know the drink that I drink had a name. Everyone I know calls it a Mr. King. Eric has taken to calling it a Deep Dark Sexy for some reason. He is always ribbing me. We get along well.
These people tell us that this drink is called an “Assassin.” Everyone starts laughing, even me. I have the good grace to see the humor in all of this. It’s so silly. If that is really the drink’s real name, it suits me. We all know it. I kill people with kindness. That’s what Adele said. She said, “Ha-ha-ha! That’s so true! You really do kill people with kindness.” Then Adele slapped me on the back. Adele packs a wallop.
Frau Schmitt, always handy with her phone, looked it up. Frau Schmitt is the better half of this operation. Here is the recipe for an Assassin. That’s not my drink. Amateurs. Even a dog would turn up its nose at a drink like that. Don’t believe everything you read on the internet—–except this website, of course. Everything I say here is true. Another day, another brunch.
Unfortunately, Frau Schmitt had to go. I have to sit here and right this blog. You’re welcome.
Eric says hello.
Come get yourself some New Orleans kindness at La Belle Esplanade. Visit New Orleans where you belong. You can’t do any better but you can do a whole lot worse.
I do have color in my world:
Look at where I live. You could be here:
You belong here.