On Gravier Street

Every building in NOLA is historical. I've never seen so many plaques on so many buildings anywhere ~ and I lived in Boston. Usually, I do an almost subconscious scan of them and move on. Until one catches my eye...

Lithus

On most gigs, Lithus is out on the side of some mountain, or out in the bush, or even somewhere swampy ~ in other words, remote. Helicopters, after all, go places cars and people can't go easily, or at all. This past week, though, we got lucky. He was working right outside. Literally, just across the street.

It was so incredibly cool to just walk through the apartment complex and watch him do what he does.

But how close is he, really? He's this close. Note the window screen, because I'm standing in our living room.

He's inside the red squiggle

Halloween, NOLA Style

Although we were (are) on the road for Halloween itself, we were home on the 26th ~ the night New Orleans decided to celebrate the holiday in a big way. And because it's New Orleans, that means a parade. The Krewe of Boo rolled for the first time in a couple of years. (Note, the pictures aren't that good; next parade, I'm leaving my phone at home and just taking my camera.)

Voodoo Doll

See? Pins.

Just Keep On Living

Lithus and I are back in Richfield, Utah. On Tuesday night, after we got back into town, we went to the store. Picked up basic groceries, but also pumpkins for carving and cooking, a couple little decorations, ingredients for Samhain dinner, and candies to give out, just in case the apartments where we're staying had trick or treaters. As we were loading up the car, he said how much he appreciates that, no matter where we are, we keep living our lives. Nothing gets put on hold. Nothing gets put off. We shop and decorate and celebrate and live our lives ~ wherever we are.

I think that's part of what makes our lifestyle work. Sometimes our celebrations are less elaborate than they might be if we were at home (remember last year, when Halloween took place here?), but they always happen, regardless. We are masters at finding the one restaurant that is serving on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Our first date was over Thanksgiving, and we enjoyed quite a spread at the hotel in Suffolk, so this flexibility has always been a part of us. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, random Tuesdays...they all get acknowledged, in the moment, to the best of our abilities.

Life on the road is just that: life. Not life delayed or life interrupted or life postponed until a better time. Just...life.

Going Local

When Lithus and I first moved to NOLA, we talked about wanting to get out of the Quarter. Wanted to not only hang out in the CBD. Wanting to learn the city away from the tourist spots. But the Quarter is fascinating and so much happens there. And then it became comfortable. And "our" spots were in the Quarter and the CBD and the buses are inconsistent and unreliable and then we weren't home often and, and, and, and...and suddenly. we realized that we rarely stray beyond our little circle.

That just wouldn't do.

Last night, we discovered The All Ways Lounge. (Note: If you click around the site, it's NSFW. The pictures I'm about to post are slightly NSFW, depending on how picky your work is.) The Quarter and the CBD, it's not. It's not even Frenchmen Street. It's the All Ways Lounge.

The band opening the evening was Ford Theatre Reunion. They describe their music as "circus freak music." I describe them as heavy metal zydeco. Personally, I think either works. They are a little bit genius, and reminiscent of the Dresden Dolls, for those of you who know them. Crazy talented. With a lead singer who reminds me so much of Starbuck when we were 16, that I had to keep reminding myself that this young woman and I don't know each other and it would be weird for me to go hug her (Note: these are not our pictures, nor are they from last night. They are, however, of the group and the singer, so that's something).

They were a serendipitous delight, however, because we had gone to see Clue: A Burlesque Mystery. Seriously. The board game Clue, performed in burlesque. And it was burlesque, not a strip show.There was a juggler, who took off an article every time she "accidentally dropped" a ball or a knife. There was an aerialist. There was even a fan dance.

At the end, for curtain call, they lifted the "no photography" rule, but not the "no flash photography" part of it. Thus, the not-very-good pictures. But you'll get the idea...

There was even a dose of universal justice dished out. A couple was there, so much in costume that I originally thought they were part of the show. He in his modernized 1890's finery; she in her 1940's rockabilly hybrid. Everything was over the top. Nothing was genuine or authentic. Every expression and movement was studied and projected. They were gorgeous caricatures, just like the performers of the evening. And as I became aware of the fact that they weren't a part of the show, after all, I still thought they were cool. After all, I understand deciding who you are going to be for an evening and going with it. Until they showed themselves to be asses. Pouting. Disrespectful. Assholes. Just because the place got crowded and those of us at tables had to adjust in order to see the stage. Finally, she had had enough and, with great dramatic flair, tapped a man on the shoulder and demanded that he clear her entire field of vision. And her male counterpart laid hands on the poor guy who just wanted to bring his friends to a show. At that point, the sound tech/d.j./bouncer stepped in and you can guess who got thrown out. A good reminder to us all: Karma is enough of a bitch; don't be one.

It was a great night. Getting out of the Quarter is highly recommended.

Salt Lake City

The current gig requires us to fly in and out of Salt Lake City, Utah. Generally, though, we don't spend a lot of time in the town with the airport. We fly in, we rent the car, we drive out. Only this time, we had a 5.5 hour wait for Country Boy. 5.5 hours is a long ass time to hang in an airport. But it is also not a long time in terms of doing something. Thus, the great American solution: find a mall.

It was a lovely outdoor mall:

Complete with water show:

And sock monkey in balloons:

They were even prepping for a big Halloween event to launch the holiday season:

Why, it was enough to make you wish you never had to leave! Wait...

Salt Lake City, where you can live. At the mall.

At which point, I had a conversation with Starbuck about purgatory (it's not just for Catholics any more!) and how Black Friday would be so much more interesting on ice skates with a hockey stick. There's a drinking game in there somewhere, too, given that the apartments have balconies; I just haven't quite found it yet.

Finally, though, we did have to leave our sunny, warm, sock monkey-ed oasis. Sadly. Back to the airport, to wait for Country Boy. Gotta give SLC credit ~ their cell phone lots are high tech and cool.

All in all, Salt Lake's not a bad way to pass a 5.5 hour wait.

Round Trip Tickets

The rotorwing aviation industry here in the States is...fluid, shall we say. There's always more work. There's always another gig. There are always promises. And then comes the phrase "well, you know how this industry is..."

The schedule may be, officially, two weeks on, two weeks off, but until you actually get back to the gig, you don't really trust it. We once rushed to get back to work after Thanksgiving with family, just to be told not only was work not starting the next day but there was no work for winter at all and maybe things would start back up again in April or May.

This time? Lithus has round trip tickets. He is scheduled to leave Richfield, Utah on September 18th and return to Richfield, Utah on October 1st.

I'm so excited I can hardly stand myself. I almost didn't post this, because I didn't want to jinx it. Round trip tickets. What will they think of next...