Okay kids you have just a few hours left to win one of two HP Photobooks in the Where in the World is Mamma Contest. Get your guesses and rhymes in now. The final clue is at the end of this post.

DREAMS:
I woke up this morning having visited Broadway in my dreams. We never actually made it to the show, but we were contemplating the tickets we were going to purchase. The top show on our list? CHUCK! A musical adaptation of Chuck Norris’ book Little Brother.

You want the drugs I have don’t you?

OBSERVATIONS:
Tonight Larry King will host a number of stars who will be talking about the importance of voting. Now while this is a topic I can get behind 110%, I must wonder who Larry is using as a booking agent. The headling guest? Josh Groban.

What is this Soft Rock the Vote?

Or maybe this is Larry’s sneaky way to throw his support behind Hillary by getting all the middle-aged white women to the polls.

I’m looking forward to Tuesday. As BOSSY would say, I’m pulling for Barak Oboyfriend.

THE FINAL CLUE:

Okay, here’s the second clue. Take a guess or make up a rhyme and win an HP photobook .

Have you missed me? Lie to me and say yes.

I’m out of town, I have some HP photobooks to give away and I’ve been taking photos with my new camera, so I thought why not a contest.

Not really.

But I could if I wanted pay for a spot on one of the boats here.

Working outside the home can be a real drag somedays. Pleasing picky clients, figuring out one more way to do the same thing another way, sitting in a meeting when you’d rather be chaperoning your kid’s class trip…these are just some of the downers, but then there are days like today…

Days when I am at a conference—here–in January. Or days like tomorrow when we have a free afternoon to do as we shop or sit on the beach please.

Don’t hate me for this small favor.

Driving in the car–alone–with the windows down and the radio turned up, it’s easy to pretend that you have no responsibilities, no one to answer to, no one counting on you to protect them and nourish them. For a moment, I am a single woman and I have my whole life ahead of me but with the knowledge I’ve gained over the last decade or so.

And I’m free.

I can feel passion. I can be gorgeous. I can travel the world. I might still be a doctor, or a photographer or a dolphin trainer. I’ll dance under the stars. My clothes will be stylish. There will be fabulous dinner parties and views of the ocean. The births will be natural and the babies will sleep through the night.

I look forward to the life ahead of me.

Then my phone buzzes. A client needs something. Will I pick up milk while I’m out? Back to School night starts in twenty minutes. At that point it’s as if my body stopped short but my heart kept moving forward. It’s pressed up against my ribs aching to keep going. I give it a pat and soothe its racing beat.

Choices have been made.

But what do I tell it, my heart? Why does it yearn to start over again and do it “right” this time? What would it change? What would it be willing to give up? Nothing. Then why does it press its face against the window and dream?

I first noticed his presence as I felt him on my back. He was big and gave off air of danger. I couldn’t help but look. My eyes were drawn to him.

So I did it.

I looked in my rearview mirror to see the asshole riding my bumper at 75 mph (not that I speed). In his giant white landscaping truck, he stuck to me like glue in an apparent effort to get me to move.

Now it’s not like I’m above developing an attitude similar to a twenty-two year old with a little liquid kevlar in his system when faced with pond scum such as this. There have definitely been a few incidents in my past where I escaped with my teeth and still haven’t learned. It’s not a trait of which I’m proud.

But we’re talking DC traffic. At rush hour!

Where the hell was I supposed to go? The cars were lined up in front of me six deep. This guy wasn’t getting anywhere by getting me out of the way. So, I just hung in there and turned up the radio.

He finally found some room to his right and went barreling off down the center lane–swerving I noticed as he rode up on some other poor soul’s butt. And this is where I got mad.

It’s one thing to piss me off, but don’t go assuming you’re more important than everyone else on the road.

Who the hell does this guy think he is?! I got a pretty good look at him, as he was practically in my backseat, and I’m fairly certain I didn’t miss any blood spraying from his eyes, nor did I see plumes of smoke billowing from his head. I mean what fuck made him think his plans were any more pressing than ours?!

I was all fired up? I’m trying to get all sorts of work finished before I leave on vacation. It was 8:15 p.m. and I was just on my way home from the office. I had a client trash something I had just given to them (and thought was crossed off my list) and I WAS NOT IN THE MOOD.

I wanted to tell you about how I chased after him, cornered him at the next exit and got out of my car at the red light. I wish I could tell you that walked right up to his driver’s door, opened it and pulled him out by the nose hair and then proceeded to lecture him about proper etiquette while operating a vehicle.

But I didn’t.

I bitched at him from the safe confines of my car, shook my head and decided he had probably spent too much time at happy hour and hoped he didn’t hurt anyone else while he was on the road.

I think I’m maturing.

Shit.

There is just a little over eight weeks until BlogHer 2007. I will be going to Chicago, sans kiddos, to tear up the town. The lovely Canape and I will be sharing a room, so I’ll have a place to hide when I just can’t shake Jessica (she swears she’s going to stalk me, but we all know she won’t be able to see me over the crowds that will surround her wherever she goes).

Anyway, the reason I’m so excited to be going (besides the fact that Canape is going to do my make-up) is the opportunity I’m going to have to meet in person (I hope) many of the incredible women I’ve gotten to know over the past ten months or so of blogging. They’ve made me laugh, cry, snort, think, recoil in horror, sing a song and cheer.

I know a trip to Chicago may not be in the budget for everyone, and if this is the case with you I want you to know how much you’ll be missed. There are still others that I know would like to go but might not have a spouse that understands how important this conference is to them (shout out to Shakey for being incredibly understanding on this point). For this reason, I’m starting a petition.

See, I want to see Janet there.

Mr. Wonder Mom needs to know just how important blogging is to his wife, what an amazing network of women you are and how many of us want to meet his magnificent wife (why should he get to keep her all to himself?). So please add your name to this petition by leaving a comment to this post. And if you need us to get a petition started for you, just send me an email.

What are you waiting for? Read the statement and get commenting already!

We, the undersigned, think Janet aka Wonder Mom is indeed wonderful and we would grately appreciate the opportunity to spend time with her in Chicago at the BlogHer conference. Please find a way to make it possible for her to attend. You don’t want an army of crazy bloggers after you now, do you?

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Signed,
The Women of the Blogoverse

I know. So you smelled.

New Orleans was wonderful!!!!! Five days and four nights of just me and Shakey free in the Big Easy. No real itinerary, no kids, no work…much fun!

It’s so hard to describe the city I adore and what it is about it that I love to folks who have never been there.

Though Shakey had been there before, his visit was for work and so he didn’t get to truly appreciate it. I think he’s a convert now. It didn’t hurt that we started our trip with dinner at Commander’s Palace. Starting with a meal like that will soften even the toughest critic. Oh the turtle soup and the oysters and the crawfish veal dish and then the bananas foster! Mmmmm.

As a former resident, I felt like a HUGE tourist carting around my camera but I just knew you’d want to see pictures. So here’s my photo essay of the trip.

Okay I lied. I don’t have photos of the whole trip so I’ll give you the rundown and include pictures as they’re appropriate.

Thursday

Flight left on time, arrived early. The cab ride to the hotel revealed a bit of the damage caused by the hurrican, but frankly they parts of the suburbs and the city that I-10 cuts through wasn’t the prettiest before the storm so it wasn’t as obvious as I expected.

Arrived at the hotel and was pleasantly surprised considering the great rate we got through the United website. Good sized room overlooking the Mississippi and one of my favorite lunch dives (you’ll see my obsession with great food as you read on). We unpacked, changed and headed to Commander’s for a late dinner. It looks the same and the surrounding neighborhood (the Garden District) was relatively unharmed. As I mentioned earlier, the meal was amazing and we were both so stuffed we went back to the hotel and crashed. I don’t think either of us slept very well the night before the trip (does that happen to you?).

Friday

Slept in (wink wink–did I mention no kids?). And man did we work up an appetite so…
Mmmm…jambalaya for Mamma and an Oyster Po Boy for Shakey.

Headed over to the New Orleans Arena for some Bball.

Memphis v. North Texas State; Nevada v. Creighton during the first session. We went back to the room, changed took a little rest and headed back for the second session of Arizona v. Purdue and Florida v. Jackson St. Jackson St. held on for a bit, but by the second half it was clear the game was over so we headed out with Florida 20 points up and went down to the Quarter to watch the rest of the Kentucky game (we’re big UK fans in this house–though we weren’t dumb enough to pick them to go past the first round in our pools). A few beers, UK won and we were off to walk through the Quarter.

To this day, I don’t understand why people scream for beads on Bourbon Street. It’s not Mardi Gras. Beads are for Mardi Gras. And this former resident is not about to expose the ladies for a few little beads (now a Zulu coconut on Mardi Gras day? That’s an entirely different story. Have you seen those coconuts?! They’re hand-painted! With glitter! Totally worth the flash.) So I snickered at the tourists (she says looking down her nose) and got off Bourbon Street as fast as we could. After four basketball games we were a little beat (sitting for so long is very tiring). As we walked back to the hotel, we had to pass

so we had to just walk through.

At 2:30 a.m. we left $639.00 richer!!!! Shakey won $339.00 at the $.25 slots and I spent two and half hours at the black jack table on $40 eventually walking away with $300. Yeah, we thought we were so cool! Shakey learned a life lesson too. About a half an hour into my black jack he came up and whispered in my ear.

Shakey: Did you know if you sit at the slot machines they give you FREE drinks?

Me: Uh…yah!

Shakey: This place is AWESOME! I’m going back to the slots. See Ya!

Me: [shaking my head] novice

A half an hour later:

Shakey: Did you know that if you sit at the bar and play video poker that they give you free drinks?

Me: Um…yep

Shakey: This place rocks!

Where has my husband been all his life?! Obviously not in a casino I guess.

Saturday–St. Patrick’s Day

No games. No plans! We slept in–again. Looked down to check out the line at Mother’s and guess what! No line!

More jambalaya and more oyster Po Boys. We’re creatures of habit. And the food is so damn good.

After that we headed up to my alma mater.

If you had a magnifying glass, you’d be able to read the sign in the distance that says Tulane University. The campus was pretty quiet due to Spring Break, but it was nice to walk around. Not much has changed. We stopped by my old sorority house.

Where I discovered they had installed a porch swing.
Happy Mamma on the porch swing in her St. Patrick’s Day boa. Doesn’t everyone wear one to celebrate the holiday? If you haven’t I recommend it highly. I felt very festive.

Then it was a stroll down St. Charles Avenue past the stately homes.

Just in the nick of time (we were getting thirsty) we happend upon Fat Harry’s. Enjoying some beer and some basketball on their many TVs when all of the sudden I noticed this scene.

Now a cannon being drawn by four horses isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen in New Orleans (by a long shot) but it wasn’t what I expected to set my eyes upon as I gazed out the open front of the bar on a Saturday afternoon. I’m guessing they were returning home from the parade. The best part though was the gentleman tying them up to a lamp post so he could stop in for a drink.

At Fat Harry’s we made friends with a lovely young man named George whose favorite saying was “It don’t cost nothin’.” This ended up being true for us since he was treating half of the bar (including us) to round after round of shots. I was sure glad it was the motto he settled on for the day.

Many beers and shots later, it was time to eat–again. I told you food would be a recurring theme. So we hailed a cab and I dragged Shakey back into the Quarter for the best hamburgers in the world!

Shakey agreed and he had had just enough to drink that he didn’t complain too much about me taking silly pictures of him under yet another sign.

We walked off dinner through the Quarter where we saw this

and this

and then stopped here for a little dessert.

Nothing like hot beignets!

Then of course I had to take a picture of this eerie site. I’ve always loved it.

Sunday

More basketball. Happily Florida won, since I have them winning the whole thing.

Then dinner here.

[edited to add] I can’t believe I forgot to mention the obligatory stop at Pat O’Brien’s. I checked in on the Piano Bar because I didn’t want to disappoint the Queen, but the weather was just too nice so we got a table at the patio bar right next to the flaming fountain. I have a great picture, taken by the Pat O’s photographer, if only I could find a scanner that works.

Monday

Sadly, it was time to pack our bags. We had just enough time for a walk through the Quarter, lunch and a little shopping and then it was time to get on the plane.

I almost got teary during lunch. I hated leaving. I do know what it’s like to miss New Orleans.

Did I mention I was going to New Orleans this week? I did? Oh sorry. Don’t mean to rub it in.

I’M JUST SO DARNED EXCITED!!!

I went to school in New Orleans. While I was there I fell in love with the city. I used to go back fairly regularly (helps that I was dating someone who lived there), but since getting married and having kids my trips have been limited and always for work.

Like the rest of America, I was devasted by the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I have friends who still live there and I worried about them, listened to their stories and of course followed it all in the news. A part of me that was a little afraid to go back, but I know the soul of the city I adore could never be destroyed.

There are no words to describe what it is about New Orleans. I just think you have to experience it for yourself. And not just the French Quarter. New Orleans is so much more than that. It’s the people, it’s the food, it’s the architecture, it’s the food, it’s the way of life, it’s the food, it’s the scenery, it’s the food, it’s the history. It’s all so different from the rest of the country–so uniquely New Orleans. Oh and did I mention the good food? If I were to call any of my college friends right now to brag about my trip the first question they would ask is, “where are you eating?”.

We have reservations Thursday night at Commander’s Palace. I think we’re going to try to get into Galatoire’s and I definitely want to hit Mother’s. Other than that, we’re winging it, which is easy to do since it’s hard to have a bad meal in the city.

The folks get here tomorrow for their long weekend with the grandbabies. I’m a little concerned about how exhausted they’re going to be after chasing three boys around for five days, but they survived their five children (by the skin of their teeth) so I think they’ll be fine. The boys can’t wait for them to arrive. Their joy only slightly diminished by the fact that Winston, my dog-brother, won’t be along on this trip. Mr. 4 loves him so much he has a framed picture of him on the nightstand next to his bed.

In just forty-eight hours, Shakey on I will be sipping drinks and strolling the Quarter with nobody to get to bed but each other.

Crap, I better drag myself away from the computer and finish cleaning. It’s the game I play with myself every time my parents come. Like they don’t know what a slob I am when they’re not here. Ha!!

Lovely comments abound from men of a certain age (older than 35?) admitting that they like their women with a little meat on them. What sweet, sweet music to my ears.

You see I have no aspirations of being rail thin. I’d be happy for “in shape.” Pursuing heroin chic for me would be like searching for the end of a rainbow. I was blessed with curves, that for once in my life, I actually don’t want to lose completely. I’m happy to look like a woman. Though yet another cruel joke of nature is that some of those “curves” tend to be the first things to disappear when I do lose weight. And that’s sad, because I’ve loved reading those Ds on the bra tags for the first time in my life.

Anyway, I had a good week. Ate healthy. Stuck to my plan. No snacks. No sugar.

I’ll be hopping of the wagon for a brief time at the end of next week, because no one can really expect me to go to New Orleans and not enjoy the best part about the city–THE INCREDIBLE FOOD.

Did I mention I’m going to New Orleans next week?! I’m going to New Orleans next weekend for a long weekend!

I am so excited! Went to school there. Haven’t been back for years. This will be the first trip there together for me and Shakey. The first time we’ve gone away alone with each other in seven (yes, I said SEVEN) years. Cue Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On.” Oh yeah, and there will be basketball–first and second round of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.

New Orleans, basketball, food and sex…don’t hate me!