Riding the Train They Call the City of New Orleans

“New Orleans? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?”

Blink, blink.

“Why the heck would you ever wanna move there?”

“It’s so hot.”

“Sticky. Ugh.”

“Bugs. Huge.”

“Dangerous.”

Many friends and family just shook their heads at our news. Then as hubby and I walked away: “I told you they had some loose marbles…the silly infantasizers…some kind of Mid-Life Walter Middy thing…” (I didn’t actually hear them say this, but I used my Spidey Sense and so I know they were.)

Yeah, well, so. It is nuts the things we’ll do to be closer to our kids. It would be so much easier if they were jerks so we could just rend our garments and be done with them. But alas, pure awesomeness are they.

It was hard enough to have the two of them opt to move to Los Angeles after high school. (I suppose performing arts school and acting careers were somewhat inevitable.)

Thirteen hours away was torture; then back in aught-thirteen, our eldest—Em—announced she was moving to New Orleans.

We said:

“New Orleans? Really?”

Blink, blink.

“Why the heck would you ever wanna move there? It’s so hot. Sticky. Ugh. Bugs. Huge. Dangerous.”

Translation: PLEASE! Please don’t go! I can’t just get in the car when I’m Jonesin’ for my kid, and drive for thirteen hours and put my arms around you!

Our boy, Tim, followed a year later.

“New Orleans?” “Reallly? Hot…sticky…”

We called them six months later.

“We’ve decided. Dad is retiring from teaching and we’re moving.”

“Where?”

“We think maybe…well, if you don’t mind…that is, if you don’t think it would be too weird to traipse across the country after our kids…Can we come live with you?”

“YAY! Wait. With?”

“Well, no, of course, not with, of course, that would be just, no of course not with… But close?”

“YAY!”

So they loaded up the truck and they moved to the Big EeeeZZZ! Nawlins that is… sweat that pools, lots of bars…MovinToTheBigEasy

No, wait, wait. Hold on. It’s swimmin’ pools, movie stars… Hey! Got those too!

See, here’s the other part (and this is the reason behind the reason): They make movies here. And TV. In fact, the industry is growing so robustly here, New Orleans is being called Hollywood South these days.

And well, you know, Mikey and I are both actors…

So we figured hey, we’ve been carrying these prickly actor dreams around in our chests for going on…well, our whole damn lives… time to take some action! Time to scratch that itch or die. And we get to scratch while consuming beignets, crawfish, and bourbon!

So in the midst of middle age, we have embarked on this new adventure.

Yep, done lost our marbles we have. But we have the rest of our lives to find those. Remember back HERE I was explaining what the heck I’ve been doing with myself and why my blog has been moldering? Well, as promised, now you know a little more about number three on the list of what I’ve been up to.

So far, moving to Nawlins has been a bit like stepping into a strange, twisty, Technicolor, alternate reality. There is a story around every corner and in every epic pothole.

I’ll be sharing some soon, so y’all come back now, y’hear?

 

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  1. […] Ok, wait. That last one’s done. Moved to New Orleans. I’ll fill you in on that next time. […]