Hank Williams boyhood home - Georgiana, Alabama

New Orleans

Last weekend I drove from my temporary home in Montgomery, Alabama to New Orleans, Louisiana. It took about 4.5 hours. I rented a car because I wanted to keep the miles off my car (which has many). I got the car from Thrifty via hotwire.com I usually rent from Enterprise via Costco Travel, but I left it too late and there was nothing available from Enterprise. I had to pick up my car at Montgomery airport. Luckily, my former roommate gave me a ride. He also watched Chewy for me.

First stop - Mississippi
I stopped at a rest area in Mississippi and found this notice about the color of the toilet water:

Well, that's good to know. That's about all I experienced in Mississippi.

Parking - I parked at Canal Place across the street from the casino, Harrah's New Orleans.

It seemed to be a fair price and in an easy to locate place. It was about thirty dollars for the day and right when you exit the parking garage, there is a tour bus stop selling tickets. There are also lots of crowds, so I asked for directions to Bourbon Street.


Next up Bourbon Street - I walked about eight crowded, side street, blocks until I came upon Bourbon Street. There were police standing at road signs that blocked off the street. I had no idea

where to start, so I just turned to the right and moseyed on down the way. It was just as I had seen in pictures, with so many lights, bar after bar, and people walking down the street with drinks. There were people standing on balconies at bars looking at the people below. Music emanated from the bars to the streets. At first it seemed exciting, then it started to take a turn. I had a person in drag come up to me to take a picture with me and ask me for money for a "sex change operation." I quickly realized since I was a woman alone, I was definitely seen as an easy target. I went into a shop to buy my obligatory souvenir magnet and the surly shop owner saw my measly purchase and insisted that I had to pay cash. No problem, I said. Thank goodness, for once in my life I had cash on me. This shop owner just seemed like he hated every one that walked into his shop. Then I decided to stop in a bar and actually sit down and listen to some authentic Zydeco music, which was recommended to me by someone in the chiropractor's office. I had never heard of it before, so when I saw a sign for it, I stopped in. The bouncer let me know in no uncertain terms that there was a one drink minimum and I needed to buy a drink to have a seat. No problem, I said. I went to the bar to order a drink and just ordered what seemed to be their signature drink. The bartenders were wearing ear plugs and did not

look happy to be there. I felt like I was in the episode of Seinfeld with the "Soup Nazi" where I had to quickly and confidently place my order and pay immediately. Once I got my drink, I found a seat in the front row of a quite small room with a band playing in the front. There were a couple of drunk people dancing in front of the band, but everyone else was seated (there wasn't room to do much else). I tried to focus on the music and noticed the looks on the band member's faces. They also didn't seem happy to be there. In fact, it looked like at least one of them hated their life. I know that seems like a strong statement, but that's the impression I got. I was disappointed no one was playing a washboard or something like that. Shortly thereafter, I saw a panhandler playing a plastic washboard with a sticker on it that said, "Music is not a crime."

Pedi cab -
I was growing tired of Bourbon Street, and I saw a bicycle with a seat attached.

I asked if he could give me a ride and he said yeah. It was hard for me to get on the bike b/c the step was a bit high for me, but I crawled on in. (After that, I always got on and off at a curb.) I originally asked for House of Blues because I wanted somewhere I could eat while listening to live music. He suggested Frenchman Street. On the way there, it was a little nippy, but he had a blanket available. He gave me a proper tour telling me all out the galleries vs. balconies (one covers the sidewalk, the other doesn't), Romeo spikes (to prevent people from climbing fences) and how New Orleans has the only confirmed vampire existence. He showed me where Anne Rice used to live. It makes sense now why she would write such stories. This was such a cool experience and worth every penny. It was $1 a block. He gave me his card so that I could call when I needed a ride back to my car.

Frenchman Street - As we rode by, I could hear a band playing at a Mexican restaurant on the corner.


I decided to stop there and ate on the patio while listening to the music. After finishing, I headed down Frenchman Street and came upon some "New Orleans" style music on the sidewalk. The crowd was so large, it was blocking the street!






AirBnB - I stayed at an AirBnB outside of New Orleans. It ended up being farther out than I anticipated, but it was only like $25 a night, so you really can't beat that. There was this sign on one of the bedroom doors. Needless to say, I did not open that door. It was just a place to sleep and served its function, though if I go again, I will probably pay a little more to be closer to New Orleans.

Bus Tour

St. Louis Cemetery #1

73 Distillery

73 Distilling - 301 N. Claiborne Avenue. - We stopped here for a short bathroom break and to sample their fine spirits. I asked which would be appropriate for someone who is a wuss about alcohol and she told me all of the samples were at least 80 proof, so I passed on that. I did, however, purchase a drink at the bar that was recommended for a lightweight such as myself. It was fine, not something I'd get again. Oh, and I paid $2 for a small bag of chips because by this point I was starving. Could've done with a restaurant stop as part of the tour.

Gumbo Festival - Read about it here.
The 2018 Tremé Creole Gumbo Festival took place Saturday, Nov. 17, and Sunday, Nov., 18, from 11 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. both days in Louis Armstrong Park. Admission is free.

I told my tour bus driver that I was going to get dinner and he told me about the Gumbo Festival going on. He even dropped me off there. I was so excited to see that there was not only vegetarian gumbo offered, but also gluten free.

Alternatives to Violence Project (AVP) Britain May 2004

When I was a volunteer in Salford (outside Manchester) in England in 2004, I attended a training by Alternatives to Violence Project (AVP) Britain. It was in May of that year and the training was actually held in Ashton under Lyne, which required a long multiple buses ride for me, but it was worth it. This training was 14 years ago, but I do remember some things. One of the activities done was to show how much body language matters in interactions. People set up scenes to show body language that shows violence. My "favorite" is the last one, because although it doesn't show physical violence, the small stature of the boy and the overpowering figure of the man show that it is violent in nature.

One of the ways we "clapped" was to shake our hands in the air. 

We spent at least two days together, possibly two and a half, I'm not sure now. But they were full 8 hour days, so we got to know each other well. Here are some pics from hanging out during breaks and lunch. 

After the course, we went to the pub (of course) 

The main thing I learned in the course was to think the best of people and their intentions. Don't assume they're being deceitful, assume they are telling the truth. Don't assume they want to hurt you, assume they don't. More great life lessons from my time in the United Kingdom. 

I am a Tornado

I am a tornado. In life. In love. In everything. Most of the time I don't want to be a tornado, I want to be a slow, warm breeze that barely caresses your shoulders. Sometimes I try. I tip toe through and try to be very gentle. "See, I'm just like everyone else," I whisper as I panickly look around to see if anyone can tell the truth. I may start off slow and calm, but the tornado always comes. Even then I try to hide it. "I'm fine." "Just a little stress is all." "No, that didn't hurt my feelings." "I most definitely am not crying." "Who says I'm yelling?" "Everything is fine. Everything is under control."  As shards of glass surround me and I wonder how I'll make it back by myself with no shoes and the wind still swirling.

Costa Maya, Mexico

I took a Carnival Cruise out of Mobile, Alabama to Costa Maya, Mexico and Cozumel, Mexico. This post is just about Costa Maya. The first part of the day we spent at Mahahual, which is a village on Costa Maya. We took a taxi there. The taxi rates are set by the government and for this trip it was $8. On the beach of Mahahual, there are several restaurants providing lounge chairs and beachside service. I had read good reviews about Tropicante, so we chose that one. We hadn't booked in advance, but they still accommodated us with lounge chairs. Ours were in the second row from the shore. We ordered Miami Vice drinks and chips and salsa and guacamole and were waited on hand and foot. 

My cousin opted for a massage on the beach. Her sixty minute massage was $30. She loved it and said it was a great value.

We walked up and down the strip and there was shop after shop of souvenirs and trinkets. I have no idea why they are selling items with American football teams on them in Mexico, but there they were. Also, while we were in our lounge chairs, people repeatedly came by selling wares.

One negative about the beach is the amount of seaweed. It was really overpowering. They try and keep it under control, but it is difficult.

We also saw dogs walking around that were pets of the shop owners, but they did not seem well kept. My cousin wanted to take one of the chihuahuas home with her, but that would've been hard to get through customs!

My iPhone battery died after doing Facebook Live videos so I was asking if there was a place I could buy a charger. One of the men laughed and said, "We are poor Mexicans, we can't afford iPhones!" For the record, my iPhone is a 5 I bought off my friend!

The last part of the day we spent in the port. There are lot of shops and a large pool with a swim up bar and restaurant. I decided to try out the swim up bar. I had always wanted to try one, so I grabbed my generic go pro in a waterproof case and went for it. The Miami Vice I got there was a whopping $14. You can see the phallic looking cup it came in. There was a rousing game of Marco Polo going on in the pool. The bartender asked me what they were saying and then joined in the yelling! From the pool you could see the cruise ship

While I was in the swim up bar, my cousin got a "fish" pedicure here at the port for $20. The fish in a glass enclosure bit off the dead skin on her feet. She said it tickled.

Now can we go back to the first picture of me in the Caribbean Sea? I wore a bikini top and gave zero f*%ks. There was a time in my life I would not change socks in front of someone. For real. And now I'm just in a bikini like no big deal? Well, alright then!

Friends with an ex never goes well - virtual or otherwise

I was Facebook friends with an ex for a short while. It did not end well.

It's been a week since me and ex stopped being Facebook friends. I feel strangely relieved now that he is out of my life again. Though, to most others, that's unsurprising. How do some people just bring out the worst in us? Whether it's anger, jealousy or in my case, with this ex - intense insecurity. No matter how far I th =ink I've come or how confident I think I am, just a few conversations with that ex brings me right back to the crying girl at the bus station.

What sparked this was this super vivid dream I had. It was inspired by the fantasy I had of seeing him at work and him being mesmerized by me. However, in this "real" scenario, he didn't even notice me. Worse, he met up with his girlfriend, shared public displays of affection with her as I looked on from a distance, and then picked up their toddler son from a daycare in the mall.

Still, I try to get his attention. On the lower level of the mall, there was a skating rink. There was some sort of square dance, group skate thing going on and I had to go right past him. His eyes never even moved towards me. It was so apparent how unimportant I am in his day to day life. It was heartbreaking.

I immediately woke up and reached for my phone to tell him I couldn't be Facebook friends anymore. I didn't mention the dream, but said that it wasn't healthy. He was a dick and said, "yeah, I'll wait a few hours and see if you change your mind." That just made me more determined, so I went directly to his page and unfriended and told him so. Dick again, "I'll make it so you can't contact me when you change your mind." Messenger then tells me he's no longer receiving messages. And he's blocked me. It's all for the best. I truly didn't realize how strong my feelings were until that dream. Until that dream, I didn't realize that I wanted to be a part of his day to day life, or at least part of his thoughts. But to realize I was literally the last thing on his mind was shocking.

What a wake-up call that you are on his mind only when he's scrolling his phone on the toilet when his girlfriend's asleep. Really puts your place in perspective. 

And yes, Geoff. Not fair to him to have some crazy fantasy about an ex. I was feeling frustrated with him, though, which is what allowed my mind to wander in the first place. Being so far away and his inability to come visit or literally meet me halfway began to take its toll. I started to feel like I was not a top priority for Geoff, so accepting ex's scraps seemed okay.

Thank you, vivid dream, for putting things in perspective for me again. Regardless of how much love I feel from any other person, scrounging for crumbs of love is never acceptable. Especially when they may not even exist.

I've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle

I dropped my Constitutional Law book on the top of my foot (actually it flew out of my car's hatchback). So after turning multiple shades of purple and green, I decided to go to urgent care to get it checked out. They did x rays and nothing was broken, hurrah. However, the Dr pointed out a "nasty bone spur" on the bottom of my foot along with one forming at the heel. Huh? I never knew about this before. He said that's it's usually due to low Vitamin D. Yep, I have that. No one told me that this could happen though. One doctor even minimized the presence of low Vitamin D by saying that 9 out of 10 people that get tested for it, have it. Okay... I told my doctor here in Montgomery about the D issue and he didn't even test me for it. I didn't fight for it because I already had to fight him to get my flu shot so I chose my battles. Had I know this spur awaited me, I would have chosen that battle, too!

Don't let doctors minimize your ailments. As much as I advocate for that, I let it happen to me with this D issue. I let it happen because I thought Vitamin D just made you tired. And I was tired for a lot of reasons, including, according to my doctors and my mother, for not eating right and exercising. So I figured if I did that, I'd cure my problem. Guess what exercise is not going to cure? This f**king bone spur!!!!! I can't believe I fell for the bullshit. Stay woke folks. Don't let anyone, including your doctor, fat shame you into complacency.

In the meantime, I've got this song stuck in my head.

Photo Shoot

When I went up to Indiana for my brother's wedding on St. Patrick's Day, I booked this photo session. I was already planning on getting my hair and make up done for the wedding, so I figured getting some nice pictures while I was all done up would be fun. After all, it's not very often that I get professional beauty treatment! It was so fun and amazing and the pictures turned out great. Had a great time! Book with Michelle!

Crying Girl Update

Back in 2003, I posted about being The Crying Girl at the bus station.

After spending the night at my boyfriend's house in Derry, he unceremoniously sent me back on to a bus to Belfast (about two and half hours away). I was so confused. Why?

Nothing significant happened between the night before and the morning of. We took care of his infant daughter, who was sickly, and that was all. It always bothered me that I couldn't put the pieces of the puzzle together.

The "official" story was that it was his mate's birthday and they were going to have a "lad's night out." I said that was fine, I would go do touristy stuff around Derry. But they wouldn't be home until late. That's fine, I'll stay at the hostel downtown. Nope, that was a stupid idea. The dumbest idea he's every heard of, in fact. Shocked and aghast, I rode in the passenger seat to the bus station and walked away. "Don't let him see you cry!" I was saying to myself as my eyes betrayed me and welled up with tears. Fine, I just won't face him. He said goodbye. I said nothing.

Fast forward fifteen years, give or take. Believe you me, whenever we had our period contact, I asked him MANY times what the deal was with that kick to the curb, with no sufficient answer. I moved countries, fell in and out of love, suffered loss, became a teacher, started law school and then one simple electronic conversation brought it into focus.

In a recent conversation, it finally made sense. The night before the baby, something happened. We stayed at a bed and breakfast for a nice little romantic time together. (I will have to check my old blogs for the timing of this exactly, but I think that's the sequence of events.) Everything was hunky dory until I had a PTSD flashback while he was on top of me.

I had been raped by a former boyfriend about ten years prior. I thought I had worked through things, but this hyper emotional setting and the physical similarities between he and the rapist must have set me off (not that there ever has to be a reason). So I pushed him off of me. Apparently, I looked at him with such fear that he said he now knows what a rapist sees looking back at him.

Once it was over and we had moved on from it, I thought it was over. It wasn't. It still isn't. At least not for him. It really affected him.

Every time I think I have a grasp of how rape has affected me, I find something new. Rape and violent crime affects so many people close to the survivors in ways I never even imagined. When people think that because something happened years ago, it's over; here is another example of why it's not. Ten years after the fact, someone who I didn't even know when it happened, was directly affected by the trauma of rape.

It does not go away.

One relationship in my life that I thought wasn't affected by the attack; really was after all. Now I realize, they all are and forever will be.

I met President Jimmy Carter - Plains, Georgia

Here I am with President Jimmy Carter and his niece, who delivered the Sunday school service in his place. At first, we though Carter would not be there, and it was only the 2nd time in 30 years that he had cancelled an appearance at his church in Plains, Georgia. A couple times a month, he does a Sunday school service and then will do photos with visitors after the sermon. On this weekend, his wife, Roselyn, was in the hospital and had surgery on her intestines. When he found out she was stable, he came down from Atlanta to attend the services (arriving a bit late) but had his niece give the service. It is just a small church and he sat just one row over from me and other than the two secret service agents, you wouldn't have known who he was. We had to go through a handheld metal detector before entering the church, but again, it was all very low key. Oh, and we couldn't have a purse. The lady that was stricter than the secret service agents was the owner of the local antique shop/hotel! She lined us up outside the church, had us get rid of our purses and stood in front of President Carter during the intermission so that no one could approach him. She took her job very seriously and you can tell the deep affection she has for President and Mrs. Carter.

It was a once in a lifetime experience. Thanks to seeing my aunt Barbara's photo albums, I know that my Grandmother and Granddaddy also made the trip to Plains, Georgia sometime in the late 1970s. I got my picture taken in front of the giant peanut just as my Granddaddy did!

I went with my law school's Democrats Society. There was one other person here, not pictured.