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Nov192005
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It's Good to be Home |
Dad got me up sometime around ten. He cooked breakfast. Not too long after that, we drove out to Metairie to Dr. Stephenson’s apartment. We were there again to help unload some more stuff. Glenn’s SUV was still filled with furniture and some other things. It didn’t take too terribly long to do that. Soon after, dad went with Doc downtown to retrieve his car. I stayed with Glenn to help him construct a bed frame. The saw he had couldn’t quite cut it. He got the help of someone named Frank, who was doing cabinets for the 1st floor apartments, all of which were flooded. Dad and I left shortly after one to visit Grandma Janet, who lives nearby. We stopped at McDonald’s first. Aunt Dionne was the only one home. Everyone else was at Uncle Joe’s house nearby. We all walked over there. Several people were there. We visited for quite a while. Several funny stories about Dad’s childhood were exchanged. We went back to the apartment for a little while afterward. I don’t remember what was left to be done but we must have finished. I’m not sure when we got home, sometime around four perhaps. When I got home I finally had some time to straight up my room, which was cluttered with things of my own and some other people. I didn’t make much progress though. Dad cooked a couple steaks for dinner which were rather good, especially after a couple months of the Tech cafeteria. Ami called this evening and we spoke for a little while. Sometime after ten, Dad and I went across the river to the Quarter for some beignets at Caf Du Monde. They’ve been open for a while but they no longer operate 24/7. The beignets were great as always. I hadn’t been to there in over six months too long. The waiter actually asked what size orange juice I wanted, a first. The French Quarter looked fine. Jackson Square was a a sight for sore eyes. One thing noticeably missing however was people. Even though it was Saturday night, there were very few people out. Having had our fill, Dad and I walked over to Pat O’Briens for a drink or two. Shortly after we got there we ran into an someone Dad used to work for. Dad was a bartender at Pat O’s back in ’78 or somewhere around there. We were there for a good while. I think we left sometime around 11.