I’m Back

the author, amidst the iris beds in lovely, lovely City Park

It was a very amusing time. Stinky hot the first couple of days, but then a huge storm blew through on Monday night so it was lovely and cool on my birthday and the next day and then I left just as it was starting to heat back up. Perfect.

The view from my slightly shabby room. At least the windows opened.

My dear friend Magda took Monday and Tuesday off from work so we could just wander around, which was all I wanted to do.

Turquoise skies above the French Quarter.
The old place didn’t look that different from before Katrina, maybe just a little cleaner. The most shocking thing was all the big trees along St. Charles Avenue that been toppled by the storm. That beautiful arching green roof over the street, gone.

Also, lots and lots of dirty street kids hanging around the French Quarter. Ick. And I speak as someone who was both poor and young and lived in the French Quarter at one time.
Where did mrpeenee live, back in the day?
Barracks Street (seen here considerably tarted up since my time)

And Chartres Street, with R Man. A balcony, a patio, cheap rent and a sweet boyfriend. The definitive French Quarter life.

On the other hand, everywhere we went for lunch or dinner was fabulous. Shrimp, red beans, gumbo, beignets, po-boys – all the greatest hits, and they really were great. The only misstep was at the fancy, fancy Commander’s Palace, where the semi-snooty captain informed me the gumbo did not come with rice since the Chef considered it to be filler. Well, you know the filling in Oreos is filler, too, but you got to have it. I considered suggesting he trot out to Popeye’s Fried Chicken and get some damn rice but I didn’t. A lady never makes a scene, unless she really, really feels like it.

I kept seeing all these charming shabby houses in Magda’s neighborhood, just crying out for my loving touch. I thought I would move back there, restore one of them and plant a lavish, Southern garden, but then I got back here and realized I had, once again, briefly lost my mind. Leave San Francisco? I’m pretty sure that’s simply not possible.

Also, I got to spend some time with Jason, blogger extraordinaire from over at Night is Half Gone and it was most amusing.
He is as sweet as he seems in his writings and he took me out for shrimp po-boys at a place I’ve always heard of, but never been to and was deeeelish. I had planned to gossip about all of you, but I was too busy prying details about Jason’s private life out of him. Select morsels of which are available for a nominal fee from mrpeenee, Inc. For an additional $5 I will add in sordid details that I make up randomly.

A good time was had by me.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

12 responses »

  1. Welcome back! I popped over earlier to find the doors locked and the lights off, just like tigerchanter…
    What a lovely field report on your adventures in the south…
    Oh hai Savannah! Wally…

    Nice photos too…


  2. You're back and now you come with a warning! You're so fancy.

    Leave SF. For the South? What *were* you thinking. Come visit me in the summer and you'll come to your senses.


  3. It wouldn't let me in either, I was most angst, I thought you'd barred me.

    “And I speak as someone who was both poor and young and lived in the French Quarter at one time”

    Your early life reminds me of a song by Peter Sarstedt “Where Do You Go To My Lovely” except the lovely Marie-claire was from the slums of Naples.

    Welcome back.


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