Tag Archives: New Orleans

Clap your hands

Ten years ago I was drinking a Pimm’s cup in the dark with my mother. We were playing cards. Across the street, the overbearing neighbor with good intentions was spraying down his driveway…during a hurricane.

The hurricane. That’s how relatively textbook the whole thing was. Wind. Rain. No electricity. Standard.

Until it wasn’t.

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In this golden light

On Wednesday, my nephew turns one. On Wednesday, I will not be there. The good fortune is he won’t remember. Still, I will.

But I need him (and you — and me I suppose), to know that I woke up on Saturday happier than I’ve felt in years. This is not to say I don’t have my happy days. I do. But this breed of happiness is the childhood kind of glee that you grow to recognize later in life. It’s waking up on a rainy, sunless, bitter, winter day warmed to the core, knowing that you are surrounded, embraced, enveloped by love.

Why?

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Visitation rights and highlights

Well, hey! That visit certainly came and went, didn’t it? I tried to see as many of you as possible, perhaps to the detrimental extreme of worrying about it far too much.  Sorry if I didn’t see you. Sorry if I did and it wasn’t nearly long enough. These types of things can never be, can they? I gotta leave you wanting more!

There was plenty of parading, partying and burning. From birthday celebrations for my mom to surprise ones for me, there was all that jazz and then some. After 20+ years of running away from it, I finally went a runnin’ to New Orleans for Fat Tuesday. I didn’t have much of an impromptu costume for the St. Ann foot parade, but those sorts of things don’t entirely matter when you’re surrounded by a sea of smiles and revelry.

I took a bazzzzillion (no more, no less) photos with my camera and the cameras of others. So if you want them, I’m changing things up a bit and you just get the links to the three various photo galleries I’ve uploaded to Facebook.

Visit – faces

Visit – places

Visit – randomness

But most of you know what Louisiana looks and feels like, since uh, yeah. So I’ll move on. Here’s what McDonald’s in Sweden thinks Louisiana tastes like:

Royale (comes with cheese)

Royale (comes with cheese)

That’s right. It’s got bacon, iceberg lettuce, fresh onion, beef (from Sweden, Germany and/or Ireland), pepperjack cheese and a Cajun mayo sauce on a chili/chive/sesame bun. Take a big bite into the flavor of New Orleans? Jazz? A “spicy” state? Who knows. I’m way above eating one of those. I’m not above entering their contest to win a trip to New Orleans. Hahaaah. I’ll never win. If any of my Swedish friends win, you people are required to show them a good time if I’m not there. Mk? Thanks.

In other news, I’m back. So I’m trying slowly to get back into the swing of things. One thing I’m perpetually realizing is there’s a delicate dance to looking forward whilst looking back. I’ll save the introspection for my own thoughts.

Meanwhile, here’s what some strangers were searching for when they found my blog while I was on hiatus: crime the swedish way, joe holmes+friskis och svettis, swedish chef motherfucker do you speak it, julmust 2 liter, mauritian marbles, waldo in disguise.  You just can’t make this stuff up.

Nor can you make this up:

Do you, uh, need a bag?

Do you, uh, need a bag?

Yes, that’s a person camouflaged in IKEA bags, angling themselves into a display chock full of IKEA bags. It’s a project/collaboration/etc. by some Danes called Urban Camouflage, inspired by military camouflage. It amuses me to no end. Check out their site for more of their work. But while you’re looking at the photos, envision how Americans would react. Then turn on the polite, reserved, yet intrigued stoicism of Swedes. That’s what makes this especially delightful.

Till next time, take care of yourself and all those camouflaged people around you. (WordPress is being annoying today. Funky formatting.)

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