The Thanksgiving holiday worked its magic. I'm definitely into the spirit of the season. I learned long ago my inner child can't sit around wishing for laughter and good times. She's gotta exert some energy to make it happen. And so it is. Hub and I and the inner children (for he has an inner child, too) will be taking a trip during the Christmas holidays.
But, first, before I share the excitement, a warm welcome to my new Followers. Lots of new blogs to enjoy, yum! However, if you don't hear from me, it's because I can't link to your blog. Please, please check your profile page to ensure there's a link! (I can usually link to you, tho, if you drop a comment. Hey, I don't pretend to understand Blogger!)
Speaking of Blogger, some of the blogs I follow are back on the sidebar. These blogs will be rotated so that everyone gets linked (and, hopefully, readers will click over and say Hi!) How the selected blogs came to be was very scientific: I scrolled through the blogs I follow and clicked a blog when hub said 'stop'!
I love comments, read each one, and thank you for taking the time. I also enjoy the interesting info you share. Fantasy author N. R. Williams commented that he was descended from the Pilgrims, the ones who didn't come here for religious reasons, but from the Mayflower's crew, many of whom married within the religious group. Wow, what an interesting family history!
My southern tummy purred when I read Baroness Radon prepared Okinawan sweet potatoes for Thanksgiving. I adore sweet potatoes and, having lived in Okinawa, Japan, for two years, could taste the delicious sweet potato that is purple! (If you haven't checked out her blog, tsk, tsk!)
Near and dear to my LSU (Louisiana State University) heart, Grandpa commented from Malaysia that "many agriculture graduates from LSU" work for the company he works for there. This company is headquartered in North Carolina. It's amazing -- and really fabulous -- how the world links up!
Besides meeting nice new people like you, blogging has encouraged me to stretch myself. I surprised myself when I decided to enter a fictitious story before December 7th for the optional writing half of Erica's Blog Fest. This is a stretch I'm enjoying because I haven't dipped into the fictitious world since some writing courses at LSU years ago. You're very kind readers who've given me the confidence to relax with a character I've come to love and I thank you for that. HUGS!
Now, about that trip hub and I are taking during the Christmas holidays. It's to New Orleans, not exactly a surprise. But, wait! Instead of staying with family (they will visit us), we're staying in the French Quarter. Here's why (and why I'm beyond excited):
Some posts ago, I introduced you to my great-grandmother in a two-part story, A Rose by Any Other Name Is Paint. Grandma Oubre was approximately four years old when she came to the United States, from Spain, in 1863, when Abraham Lincoln was president. Her parents were among the 3107 who died in the yellow fever epidemic in New Orleans in 1867.
Spanish Carmelite nuns saw my great-grandmother begging for food on a street corner, coaxed her in their carriage, and brought her to their convent, specifically for her to become a Catholic nun.
Great-grandma, then a little girl, lived in their convent, in what were called 'cells', along with the other novices. However, great-grandma chose another path. One day, while standing at her cell window and looking down at Bourbon Street, a young French sailor whistled to her. She was now 13 years old and whistled back. A few weeks later, she slipped out of the convent, met the young sailor, and married him that day. My grandmother was the youngest of their eleven children.
Hub and I will be staying in that convent, now the Bourbon Orleans Hotel. As far as anyone knows, the French Quarter boutique hotel is the only such converted convent in the United States (outside of places for retreats and the like). During the Civil War, the hotel was a Confederate hospital.
I've been in the hotel more than a few times, each time awed by how my great-grandmother came to live there and the history of what followed. It's been a long-held dream to stay in the Bourbon Orleans. But the room had to face Bourbon Street. The dream comes true this Christmas. I want to stand at the window and feel the history. I honestly can't wait! (Be still, Inner Child; you must!)
(And, one of these days I'll tell you great-grandma's secret. You're gonna go, say what? But you must wait!)