This is Lafitte's. He was a pirate who retired as a blacksmith. This building is hundreds of years old, and feels it. We drank whiskey at noon here, while the heat of the day built around us. Every window and door was wide open; gleaming carriages guided by top-hatted drivers kept gliding past, the horses' tack gently jingling. The first day we went - the first day we werein town - we managed to all dress in shades of purple. This was unintentional. None of us changed, though.Lafitte's from the inside. When I think of New Orleans, this is what I see in my head. You could feel the history when you touched these bricks; they felt alive.
This is La Fabulous trying to make a Frida Kahlo face. She made this face a lot; when we were reading ghost stories that scared her, when the primates seemed too human, when there were only hours left for all of us to be together. You can see she is wearing the saints in this picture. On our way back to Sitka, we thought she had lost them in the airport. Luckily they had only slipped down into her bag. They never leave her for long.
This is Lady L. internalizing the whole experience. She is doing that by eating pralines in the grass of Jackson Square. There was jazz playing. You can almost hear it. That might well be why she is smiling.
We look astonished because that is a mama elephant. She is pregnant, and we got to feel the baby moving. It's happening in this picture. Lady L. got to touch her, too, but I don't have that picture.
Sunburned, hungover, exhausted, and exhilarated. I don't recall buying anything at the French Market, but here is the proof we were there. Here is the proof that once, we were as inseparable as the Three Musketeers, if that cliche doesn't make you roll your eyes. Here is the proof that two of the best women in the world are my friends.
Dear Ell and Vee,
Happy birthdays, my darlings. I miss you both so much. Thank you, again and again and once again, for all that you are. No matter what, this city is ours.
P.S. - I don't know which of us is which of the musketeers, except La Fab is Porthos. Obviously.