I'm back from Camp Energy Nerd, and now I'm gearing up to host a birthday soiree for the magnificent Liza Jane. Said soiree will require at least 2 lbs. of Ghiardelli chocolate, 5 lbs. of various cheeses, and oodles of champagne, and yes you can come if you dress up and bring her presents.
With all the excitement, I'm on track to miss my semi-annual New Orleans visit. DC crushes my soul, so I promised myself that I would visit NOLA every six months to carry the sights, sounds, and feel of my flipflops on the old, gnarled sidewalk back with me. I can't make it back until February, so until then I will stalk my steamy, swampy lover via Google Images (Google is pretty fantastic for stalking, in general. I highly recommend it.) Right now I'm missing Plum Street, where I used to live, and it's neighborhood snowball shop.
Plum Street Snowballs serves soft, snowy shaved ice doused with dozens of flavored syrups "by the pail," and days where the owners didn't have a softball game, or a bar mitzvah, or something else keeping them from opening up shop, there will be a line around the corner and a crowd of people sitting on the sidewalk, enjoying their snowballs.
Mr. Luz and I heavily relied on Plum Street Snowballs to get us through bar studying, and we'd scrounge for change in the cushions and pay in dimes if we had to. If you went to Plum Street Snowballs on a quieter afternoon, you'd find yourself in a sunny, verdant neighborhood alongside a sleepy "mardi bike," and some lovely, friendly, genuinely happy folks. I really can't wait to go back.
The scene behind this photo was the scene I walked past every day during my last year in NOLA. God I miss those beat up sidewalks.
Photo 1--Jason Perlow on eGullet
Photo 2--from Gwen's Flickr account
Photo 3--by Infrogmation of WikiMedia